Avatar is the property of people who aren't me. This work of fiction is not authorized by those people.

"Skxawng!" his friend yelled. Tseyo had not been a few moments free of the Omaticaya's leadership council when Kenonyan, his long-time friend, approached. Vezek, Kenonyan's recently-chosen mate, and the best friend of Tseyo's late-sister, was standing beside him with her arms crossed. Her face was expressionless, but her tail swished back and forth, betraying her anger.

"What were you thinking?" his friend demanded. "Were you thinking at all?"

"Yes, friend, I was thinking," Tseyo replied calmly. Even though he did not appreciate the tone his friend was taking with him, he could understand his anger; and Tseyo had no desire to agitate his, or Vezek's, emotions any further. He knew they cared deeply for him. Both of them had journeyed with him to search for Mehi'a when she went missing, and both were there to mourn with him when he discovered her body.

"Then tell me what you were thinking," Kenonyan demanded again. "Tell me what could have possibly made you step forward to take on this responsibility."

"I was thinking about the tribe – about our family."

"Our family is here, Tseyo," he said. "It's not in the Sky People's realm. What would make you want to leave it? Have we not been good friends to you?"

"Of course you've been good friends," Tseyo replied. "My decision had nothing to do with our relationship."

"It must not have, or else why would you want to leave?"

"That isn't fair, Kenonyan."

He raised his brow. "And what would be fair?"

"If you would accept that I made this decision, and support me as my friend."

Kenonyan shook his head. "I can't support something I don't understand, Tseyo," his tone beginning to calm. "This is not like you at all. The Tseyo I know, whom I grew up with, doesn't foolishly ride out on ikran to fight. He learns our dances and sings our songs. He heals people's wounds – the ones we see and the ones we cannot.

"The Tseyo I see in front of me is an alien."

Tseyo was about to respond when Vezek asked, "Is this about Mehi'a?"

He narrowed his eyes at her and replied, "So what if it is?"

"Because Mehi'a would think you are skxawng, too," she replied. If any other person in the tribe had presumed to talk to him about what Mehi'a would or would not have thought, his response would have been delivered through his fists. However, given the close relationship Vezek had with her, he let her continue. "She would be horrified that you would think to leave your friends and family to live with the Sky People."

"I'm not going to live with them!" he replied, upset and horrified by the suggestion. "I am going to keep them from coming back here. Do you want your children to live under the threat of another attack? You heard olo'eyktan: They're coming back in numbers we can't defeat."

"He doesn't know that," she said. "That's only what T'ngyute told him, and he's not trustworthy."

"Vezek's right," Kenonyan said with a firm nod. "The only reason the demons came here is because they couldn't solve their problems, and now he wants to make you – and us – part of those problems. You shouldn't trust him."

"So I shouldn't help them solve their problems, either?"

"I didn't know you understood the Sky People's ways well enough to be of any help," Vezek said contemptuously.

Tseyo was growing tired of their accusations. "Maybe it will help them to have fresh eyes," he responded. "Like it would help you two to better see the threat we face."

Both of them looked as insulted as he had hoped they would have been. "So what would the Great Tseyo do, given his ability to see what nobody else can?" Vezek replied. "Would he send all of our warriors to the sky?"

He could feel his tail swishing as anger built up inside him. "If it would keep the Sky People there, yes I would!"

"Then get on your ikran and fly away!" she said with a hiss. "Fly away from the people who love you. Go, alone, and be the great leader who solves the problems of all realms. Maybe you love us so much that you will stay and live with them to make sure they have no more problems." Vezek pushed past him and continued farther down Kelutral.

Tseyo looked at Kenonyan with his eyes narrowed, waiting for his parting insult. He shook his head and said, "I hope you come to your senses, friend. I will be waiting for you to." With that, he followed after Vezek.

He looked around and saw that several people had stopped their activities to listen in on the conversation – not that they had to strain their ears any to do so. Some were shaking their heads, while others appeared to look sympathetic. To whom those few might have been sympathetic, however, he could not tell. Tseyo swished his tail, let out an ejective spat, and continued on his way to find Naw'ngié.

She was sitting underneath a sapling near the edge of where the field surrounding Kelutral ended and the jungle began. He took a deep breath before he approached her. When he was just a few steps away, he saw her ears twitch as she picked up on his footfalls; but she did not turn to look at him.

Tseyo took a seat next to her, but Naw'ngié still did not look at him. She acknowledged his presence, however, by asking, "Did they accept you?"

He nodded. "They did."

She sighed and replied, "I told you I wasn't interested in a man who wants to impress me with his courage."

He was surprised by the accusation. "That – I didn't volunteer to try to impress you, Naw'ngié."

"Then what came over you?" she asked, finally turning to look at him. She was still wearing the necklace he presented to her that morning. "You ask me to accept your courtship, and then before we have a chance to learn about each other, you volunteer to attack the Sky People's home."

Tseyo looked down and said, "I guess a part of me thought that, as long as the Sky People threaten our home—," he sighed and shook his head. Too many thoughts were clouding his mind; too many emotions were flowing through his heart. After he took a moment to collect himself, he continued, "I want to be happy, Naw'ngié. I don't want my life and my energy to be at the mercy of those cold, uncaring demons."

Naw'ngié frowned and put a hand on his shoulder. "You won't find happiness if you ignore the people who love you, or if you only think about the next fight. We have all suffered because of the Sky People, Tseyo, but we carry on in our ancestors' traditions anyway. Are we not happy?"

He chuckled and said, "You told me you wanted someone who could help you see with fresh eyes. It seems like your sight is fine."

"Thank you," she replied with a faint smile. "But that isn't anything we weren't taught in the songs as children – and you of all people know them."

He sighed again and said, "I know. But the people shouldn't feel compelled to be happy just because the Sky People want to see us be miserable. The people should be happy because they live in good times."

"You underestimate the people's resolve, Tseyo," she replied.

"But am I wrong?"

Naw'ngié hesitated before she replied, "No. The people should be free from the Sky People's terror, but I worry that this path will lead us to consequences we can't see."

Tseyo frowned and said, "I have already learned about one consequence."

"Oh?"

He nodded. "Tsahik has commanded me to not take a mate."

Naw'ngié's hand slowly fell from his shoulder. Her eyes first went wide, and then she turned away from him. "Oh."

They sat beside each other without saying a word while the shadows grew darker in the day's fading light. He could only guess as to what she was thinking, but he was trying too hard to not appear grief-stricken in front of her.

Before night fell, Naw'ngié stood and began to untie the necklace. It was customary at the end of a courtship, in those few instances where prospective lovers found each other incompatible, that the two people return the gifts to each other. However, Tseyo stood and said, "No, Naw'ngié, I want you to keep that."

"I can't."

"I made that to honor your leadership," he insisted. "Please keep it – if not as a reminder of what I wanted for us, then of what you did for the people."

Naw'ngié hesitated, but then she nodded and said, "All right, Tseyo. I will keep your gift." She took a step close to him and put her hands on his heart. "You have a good heart. I hope you find what you need to set it free again."

"I do, too."

Naw'ngié leaned forward so that their brows touched, and she brushed the back of her hand across his cheek. Then she walked away without another word, her tail low.

Tseyo watched her go back inside Kelutral, and then he sat down, buried his head in his hands, and wept.

Abe's headache was coming back. "I don't know any other way to explain this," he said, his frustration beginning to boil over. "If Tseyo is going to go on this mission, he has to be here to prepare for the realities of operating on Earth."

"He only has a few weeks before he's taken away from the only world he's ever known," Norm replied. Abe gathered from his tone that he was becoming just as frustrated with the direction of their conversation. "He should be spending it among his friends and family."

He shook his head and leaned back in his chair. "He volunteered for this, Norm. I'm not sympathetic."

"You agree that he has to be mentally prepared for this mission, right?"

"Of course."

"That's not going to happen if he spends weeks cooped up here beforehand."

"So your solution is to let him live his idyllic life for one more month, and then we swoop in, yank him out of his home, and throw him into the relative, if not objective Hell that is Earth?" Abe snorted. "Somehow I think that will have deeper ramifications than locking him up here, as you imagine it, to acclimate."

"He's not going to learn properly if he's uncomfortable," Norm replied.

"It's not just about learning, Norm," Abe said. "This is not a reverse Avatar Program with volumes of training manuals to memorize. This is about building trust with his teammates, and he can't do that sitting in a tree while his team sits here."

"I doubt he's going to trust any of us, no matter how much time he spends with us," Norm said with a short laugh. "But if you're worried about whether or not he'll listen to us, then he doesn't need to be here for that."

"Just because Jake tells him to isn't a good enough assurance for me," Abe said. "I don't care if you think they have some obscene reverence for him as their leader. As soon as Tseyo's out of his control, he could do whatever he damn well pleases."

Norm shook his head and said, "First of all, you underestimate the deference they have for their olo'eyktans. Second of all, that's not what I had in mind."

Abe crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow. "I'm listening."

"Send me to teach him."

He paused to think about Norm's request, and then he had a moment of realization. He grinned and said to Norm, "That's not why you want to go over there."

Norm paused and looked as though he had misheard him. He leaned forward and asked, "Excuse me?"

"I mean, yes, I'm sure you do want to be the one who builds up a relationship with Tseyo, but that's more of an opportunity than a reason."

"I have no idea what you're getting at," Norm replied. "But I'm not sure I like it."

"C'mon, Norm. You want to go because this is your last chance to realize your dream of becoming one of the Na'vi."

Norm was silent for a moment, and then he began laughing. He leaned back in his chair and said, "You really must have gone crazy in that cell, Abe, because I don't know where you got that impression."

Abe activated his worktablet. "I'm sure you've already figured out that I dug through your personnel file."

He nodded. "I'd expect no less, and I'm sure you saw the part where I passed my psych evaluations."

Abe brushed off the slight insult and continued, "Did you know that all your video logs automatically linked to your personnel file? It was so we could make sure you guys weren't using your logs to plot against us." He let out a short laugh and continued, "You and the others did a good job erasing them from the research server – I guess you didn't want us using your collective wisdom against the Na'vi – but you did much less of a good job on your personnel files."

Norm's face went ashen. "Abe, I got it. We don't…"

"Of course we do," Abe said, interrupting him as he finished pulling up the years-old file. "This is good stuff."

"Abe, I get it. You're…"

Norm was interrupted by his own voice. "Video log, day three in the field," the years-old Norm said. Abe sat back, still grinning, and placed the tablet on a stand in order to turn it into a kind of television. He turned it at an angle on his desk so Norm could watch.

Norm looked into the camera and began his report. "We've continued to collect samples of the native flora, emphasizing the root structures." Unfortunately, he could not get past one particular annoyance to begin in earnest. "Our efforts haven't been helped, however, by our so-called security detail, who's too busy chasing tail to pay much attention to the importance of our research."

Grace Augustine replied from her workstation, "He's been accepted into their clan. That in and of itself opens up plenty of research opportunities."

"Bullshit!" Norm said. "He's not his brother, Doctor. He doesn't care about the Na'vi. He hasn't studied their language, their culture, their anything. The only thing he's researching is how to get close to Neytiri."

"And we'll let Neytiri give him a hard lesson if he tries to apply his testosterone-funded research," Grace replied. "Rather than stew over the fact that our resident Jarhead was accepted into the Na'vi, do your job as an anthropologist and try to think about why he got accepted."

"I can't even begin to figure that out," he said. "Did they just feel sorry for him?"

"The Na'vi are known for their capacity to have empathy for others," she said, still without looking up from her work. "Start there."

Norm turned to look at her and replied, "You can't possibly believe that's the reason why."

"Jesus Christ," Grace said. She pulled a pack of cigarettes from her lab coat pocket and grabbed a stick. "Here's what I know," she said while she searched for her lighter. "I know that there are twenty other avatar drivers here who, for all their knowledge of the Na'vi, were not accepted into the tribe. Some of these guys have been with me since the school was open. They made friends among the Na'vi, but when things soured, they were kicked out with me."

She paused to light her cigarette. "Because for all the goodwill we built up, we just weren't part of the tribe. Now, for whatever reason, they've let Jake in; and, yes, it may well be because he has half the brains of his brother."

"That's generous," he said while she took a drag.

Grace exhaled a large puff of smoke. "Who cares? Maybe they think he's enough of a blank slate that they can turn him into an effective ambassador between us and them."

"But I'm already ready to be an ambassador!"

"Then you know what?" Grace took another long drag. "I'm going to give you permission that, whenever you want, you can wander off with your avatar and stroll into their Hometree. Impress them with your Na'vi, and wax poetic on their culture. Maybe they'll like you enough to shoot you in the head instead of leaving you to suffer with a gut shot, or bleed you so some predator catches a scent – which, by the way, they've done to avatars before. How do you think you got a spot up here?"

Norm took a deep breath. "How are we supposed to study them if we can't get close to them?"

She pointed the cigarette at him and said, "Right there is your problem, Norm. You think they want us poking around their home and taking notes." She leaned in and continued, "But you know what? They don't want us here at all, much less in their home."

"So how'd you get material for your book?"

"I didn't 'get' it," she said. "They let me have it once they trusted me, and it took a damned long time to earn that trust. You sure as shit weren't going to earn it with less than a week on the ground."

"Which brings us back to the original question: Why did they let Jake in so quickly?"

"And if you want to spend your free time figuring it out," Grace replied, "I'm sure you'll end up contributing much to our understanding of how the Na'vi show empathy and trust. In the meantime – on my time – quit sulking about not being their newest, bestest friend, and finish your field report."

Abe stopped the video. "You know, Norm, I've often wondered why you became an anthropologist. I mean, that has got to be the worst possible profession on Earth these days – what with every ancient, tribal culture you could want to study having long since been wiped out, and most of their ruins paved over."

Norm, who appeared more than a little upset by his personal history lesson, crossed his arms and said, "Cultural anthropology has plenty of modern applications. We don't all need to be out looking for the last, indigenous tribe of the Amazon."

"Or the remains thereof," Abe quipped. "And yet, you didn't start your career in human studies, you went head-first into Na'vi studies."

"It's an emergent field," Norm replied. "You get more respect being on the cutting edge of science than joining the crowd. Besides, what we learn about the Na'vi could be applied to help humanity."

"If the Na'vi were a spacefaring society of twenty billion, sure," Abe said. "But they're not."

"I know I've said it before, but I'll say it again: You're the one who showed up going on about Native Americans and all that we could learn from them. Why are you being so dismissive of the Na'vi?"

Abe leaned forward and replied, "No, I was talking about the politics of colonists' interactions with the Native Americans and what we could learn from those interactions to leverage our advantage. I was never suggesting that we would have been better off if we all adopted their practices." He pointed at Norm and continued, "You, on the other hand, don't just want to learn from the Na'vi. You want to settle down with them."

"That's not true," Norm said, shifting in his chair.

"Norm, you're a shitty liar." Abe held up his hands and sat back in his chair. "I'm not judging you, but I want you to tell it like it is."

Norm was silent for a while, and then he said, "Are you going to keep trying to drag Tseyo here, or is he going to get one last month with his people?"

Abe sighed at his passive refusal and said, "All right, if you want to go work with Tseyo on his turf, that's fine by me. But stay focused on preparing him, and don't get caught up in your fantasies of becoming one of the Na'vi. Remember, you're leaving here, too."

"Yeah, thanks," Norm said as he stood up to leave.

"Norm," Abe called after him. "If they put an arrow in your head like they did to Parker, I hope your last thought is, 'Grace told me so.'"

The last time Norm rode a direhorse, it was on his way into battle. He was able to vividly recall how natural it felt to bond with the horse, and the rush of adrenaline that came with facing down RDA's army. He also still vividly recalled the terror he felt when the Na'vi force disintegrated, and the pain of being shot.

Today, though, Jake was the one directing the direhorse back to the Omaticaya's home. Jake, now a confident rider, had the direhorse galloping through the jungle along what could barely be considered a trail. Norm was desperately clinging to him as a passenger, hoping not to fall off the giant animal – or, worse, that his exopack mask would be shaken loose – along the way.

In order to prevent scaring the Na'vi into thinking RDA was launching a surprise attack, Norm agreed to be dropped off by shuttle some miles away from Hometree; and Jake carried him the rest of the way.

"We're almost there," Jake said. "Just another couple of minutes."

"Don't feel like you have to hurry," Norm replied. "I'm enjoying the ride."

Jake laughed. "Yeah, I can tell by the way you're trying to squeeze my guts out."

As they got nearer to Hometree, other direhorse riders came to Jake's side. One of them looked at Norm, but asked Jake in his native tongue, "Olo'eyktan, may I ask what you're doing bringing one of them into our home?" His tone of voice was as scornful as a Na'vi warrior could reasonably get away with before it became disrespectful.

"He is going to be a teacher for Tseyo," Jake replied. "Do you have a problem with that?"

"If you think it's best, then no." By the way the warrior glared at Norm before he and the other hunters rode ahead of Jake, Norm was less than convinced of his sincerity.

Still speaking in Na'vi, Jake said, "They aren't going to give you a hard time – not since you're my guest – but don't expect them to welcome you with open arms."

"I hadn't thought otherwise," Norm replied. When they finally arrived at the clan's home, Norm's reception was cooler than Jake had let on. Most of the Na'vi who were nearby gave him disdainful looks before they hurried away.

Jake expertly dismounted the horse and set about untying Norm's duffel from its back; whereas Norm took what felt like a leap of faith from its back, and he counted himself lucky that he only stumbled on the landing instead of falling on his face.

A group of children approached and, like the warrior earlier, but with far less tact, one of the young males asked, "Olo'eyktan, why have you brought this demon here?"

"He's not a demon, Nawiz," Jake said. "He's a friend of mine."

"If he's your friend, why has he never been here before?"

One of the other children hit Nawiz on the shoulder and said, "You idiot, he's the one who begged for the other demons to be saved from the posts."

Jake finished untying Norm's duffel and slung it over his shoulder. "I already said, children, he's not a demon. I've asked him to come here in order to be a teacher for Tseyo."

Another of the children, a female, stepped up to Norm and looked squarely in his eyes. Norm had to take a moment to remind himself that, despite her height, she was just a child. "Why are you taking Tseyo away from us?" she asked. "We like him. He is good."

"He doesn't know what you're saying, Sìlaun," Nawiz said with a scoff. "Don't bother talking to him."

Norm took a deep breath and said, much to the children's surprise, "I understand her, Nawiz. And I'm not here to take Tseyo away. I'm here to teach him what he needs to know in order to come home to you safely."

Sìlaun was the first to recover from the shock and said. "He's still going away. It's wrong."

"It was his choice," Jake said. "Norm is here to help him."

"Tseyo doesn't need his help, olo'eyktan," Nawiz said. "He's one of the people. He can't learn anything from him."

"Children, I won't say this again." Jake's child was still weeks away from being born, but Norm was impressed that he already had his fatherly tone mastered – and he was using it to clear effect in this situation. "He is my friend, and I've brought him here as my guest. Guests are to be respected."

They looked at each other, quietly weighing Jake's order, and then walked away without saying another word.

Jake sighed and said flatly, "Welcome to our home."

Norm waved him off. "It's fine," he said. "Again, I didn't expect to be greeted warmly." He walked with Jake first to the stable to return the direhorse, and then into Hometree itself. He occasionally paused to crane his head skyward and admire the tree's size, or to look about at the many activities the Na'vi were engaged in. Overshadowing his awe and curiosity, however, Norm was keenly aware of the many stares being directed his way, although he did his best to not acknowledge them.

He was relieved to find, though, that there was at least one friendly face, other than Jake's. Shortly after stepping into Hometree's atrium, Neytiri approached him with a smile. "I see you, Norm."

"I see you, Neytiri," he replied with a smile. "Thank you for allowing me to be here."

"Thank you for coming," she said. "I know Tseyo will benefit from your guidance."

"I'll do my best." He nodded towards stomach and asked, "How are you feeling?"

Her smile broadened, and she put her hands on her belly. "I am feeling well, and very excited," she replied. "Jake and I have waited a very long time."

"I'm sure you'll be a great mother, and Jake a great father."

Neytiri nodded and looked at Jake. "I think he will be a good father, too, but he worries too much."

Norm chuckled and offered, "Well, it's his first child. I'm sure he'll be less nervous with the next one."

Jake thwacked Norm's head with his tail, prompting Neytiri to laugh. When she caught a breath, she said, "I will let Jake get you familiar with our home before we make him more uncomfortable. Be well, Norm."

"And you, too, Neytiri." She nodded, and then went off to speak with other people. When she was gone, Norm rubbed his head and said to Jake, "That hurt!"

"Sorry," he said, although Norm knew he could not possibly mean it. "I'm not quite to the point of thinking about the next few kids."

"Yeah, well, come up with a better way to say it next time."

Jake chuckled and replied, "I'll work on it. In the meantime, let's get you and Tseyo properly introduced."

Although Jake was more than able to ascend the winding branches that allowed the Na'vi to move about Hometree, Norm struggled to keep up. Eventually – and with effort – he came to a hammock, occupied by a single Na'vi in an obvious state of meditation.

"Tseyo, my friend, your teacher, Norm, is here to meet you."

Tseyo opened his eyes and nodded at Jake before turning to look at Norm. "Welcome to our home, teacher," he said kindly but with little enthusiasm.

"I'm happy to be here," he replied. He was about to give Tseyo permission to call him by his name, but he caught himself – Tseyo would be impersonal and deferential until they built up a rapport. He did not want to get ahead of that relationship developing on its own.

Jake pointed at an empty hammock a few yards from Tseyo's. "Norm, you'll be staying there. I'll give you a little while to get your stuff unpacked, get to know Tseyo a little better, and then I want to see you two outside. We need to go over Tseyo's training in detail."

"I got it, Jake. We'll see you shortly." Jake nodded, handed Norm his duffel, and then descended the branches for Hometree's floor.

Norm carefully got into his hammock, almost losing his balance once in. He wasted little time to check on the equipment he brought with him, and he was relieved to see that the items had survived the bumpy ride to Hometree. Once again, however, he was too aware that he was being watched. He looked up from his duffel and quickly scanned the hammocks around him – and almost all of them had wary eyes looking back down at him.

Tseyo sighed and said, "Don't mind them. You're an unusual guest, but they will respect your presence and learn to accept you."

"Thank you, Tseyo." He paused before asking, "How have they been treating you?"

He shrugged. "Some have been very upset, and some have been very supportive. There are many people here with many emotions."

Norm nodded. "And how are you feeling?"

Tseyo took a deep breath. "I also have many emotions," he said, "I'm ready, teacher." Norm was struck by how calm he sounded.

"You're willing, anyway," Norm replied. "I expect we'll find out how ready you are soon enough."