Hey guys, I am so so sorry for the brief hiatus. I had a lot of stuff going on—we bought a house and I've been finishing up school and I've had some family stuff going on so I haven't had a lot of time to work on this story.

I also just really wasn't sure where I wanted to go, I have about five different drafts of this chapter that are all insanely different lol. I finally settled on something I hope you guys will like. I used to have someone that I could talk to about writing this story and I don't anymore, which I think might've been part of my problem.

But! Hopefully I'm back on track now, things are slowing down so I should have more free time!

Thank you everyone who's continued to stick around for this story and put up with me!

Again, always feel free to hit me up on tumblr at accept-n-destroy :)

One would think that their arrival back as their Hometree—bruised and battered, limbs held close to chests—would have been a dramatic one. In reality, however, it was quiet and unremarkable.

The Omaticaya were used to parties returning home a little worse for wear, and there were no bodies to bury, which, sometimes, is all you can ask for.

The first few hours after their arrival were spent with the four of them huddled inside a small alcove, Trudy carefully stitching Jake's neck back together. Her hands stayed steady, never faltering from their task, even as thick blood oozed between her fingers, even as their voices trembled recounting the events of the previous day.

The rest of the evening passed in a blur. Though no crowd had gathered to greet them, to grieve and sympathize with them, everywhere they went, alone or together, fingers brushed over their shoulders and arms.

Late that night, after a rather quiet dinner had finally concluded, Eytukan gathered the clan, firelight casting harsh shadows across his stern features. He told them, with a clear and steady voice, what had happened during their mission—their fool's errand.

When the Olo'eyktan informed them that their tentative alliance with the Tayrangi clan was over, the crowd broke out into hushed whispers.

"I am aware," Eytukan had said, his head slightly bowed, "that the last thing our people needed was a new enemy, however, we have even less need for an alliance we cannot trust."

Though his words were met with exclamations—not quite cheers—of agreement and support, Jake couldn't help the guilt twisting low in his gut. If it wasn't for him, they might've gained the help of the Tayrangi, and that was a fact he couldn't quite bring himself to forget.

They now had three weeks, three weeks and one less ally than they had hoped, until the RDA would have everything they'd need to launch their attack on the Omaticaya's territory. There was no time to wallow in failure and lost possibilities.

-x-

Jake and Tsu'tey sat together that night, on the shores of a beach Jake's family had vacationed at nearly every summer, listening to the waves.

Jake's throat no longer itched, tucked away in the safety of their dream. The mark remained though, even if the feeling of it, the skin pulled just a touch too tight, the edges red and irritated, hadn't followed him there.

Tsu'tey's fingers ran over the line cut across his jugular, stopping just shy of the artery. His touch was delicate, just barely brushing the skin, like he might shatter into a million pieces should Tsu'tey press in too hard.

The mark would always be there, he'd known that even before Neytiri had suggested it at camp the previous night, before Trudy confirmed it, her mouth down-turned with an unnecessary apology. It would fade with time, as all things do, but Jake knew he would die with the line across his throat still visible, no matter when that may be.

"Tommy always said I didn't take care of his things," Jake's lips twitched with a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes, bringing up a hand to rest over Tsu'tey's, which had fallen from Jake's throat to his knee.

"I believe he would most likely forgive you for this transgression," Tsu'tey didn't seem amused by the comment, but his brow quirked upwards, graciously playing along.

Jake hummed, his mouth working over words that had been needling at the back of his mind, "what would you have done," he asked, staring out towards the horizon, "if Tommy hadn't died? If he'd come here instead of me?"

Tsu'tey seemed to contemplate the question for a moment, "when you first learned of your brother's acceptance into Grace's program, I did not know how to feel," Tsu'tey paused, shifting closer so their sides pressed together, "I had never allowed myself the hope that we would ever get to truly meet. For your brother to come here instead of you... it felt cruel. I was angry at Eywa for the unfairness of it, and when he died... I felt guilt for that anger, I felt guilty for the joy I felt when they asked you to come in his place."

"That doesn't answer my question," Jake said, knocking their shoulders together.

Tsu'tey took a moment to turn and look at the other man before replying, "I would have found him, I would have invited him to into our territory, and attempted to convince Eytukan to allow him to stay... I would have..." Tsu'tey swallowed thickly, as though the thought pained him, as though this was something he had lived through, a memory whose recollection was a painful one, "I would have talked about you endlessly."

"You would've given him a heart attack," Jake couldn't help the laugh that bubbled from his chest.

"Perhaps," Tsu'tey's lips quirked upwards, "it would have been his burden to bear, for depriving me of you."

"He would've deserved it," Jake said, his voice just a touch bitter, and Tsu'tey nodded in solemn agreement.

-x-

The last time Jake told anyone on earth about his dreams, he was twelve, and, like most things in Jake's early life, Tommy had been at the center of it. Jake could never be sure at exactly what age Tommy stopped believing him. Maybe he never had, maybe he had always just been indulging the imagination of his strange twin brother.

Before that day, Jake had always awoken in their shared bedroom, turning over to face Tommy, who always managed to wake up just before him. He would tell him all about his dreams from the night before, about what Tsu'tey had done and what he had learned and what he was going to do to try and catch up. Tommy would listen. Many years ago, when they were very young, Tommy would listen with reverence, wide eyed and open mouthed, but the older they got, they less enthusiastic he became.

Jake wasn't oblivious, he may not have the highest emotional intelligence among their peers, but he could read between the lines—between the 'mhmm's and 'that's crazy's—and knew that Tommy was losing interest in hearing about Jake's far away world. He couldn't, however, despite any waning interest on Tommy's part, bring himself to stop.

Everyone else had stopped listening long ago, had grown tired of Jake's "active imagination," Tommy was all he had left in the ways of an audience, reluctant or not.

Maybe that was why it hurt, hurt more than anyone else, when Tommy snapped at him one morning.

"I'm tired of listening to your stupid dreams," Tommy had cut him off before Jake could even begin to tell him about how Tsu'tey had fallen off his pa'al AGAIN—and wasn't that just so funny?

"You tell me about your dumb fake boyfriend every morning, I'm sick of it!"

That had hurt, Jake had tried to protest, not sure what had offended him more—Tommy calling Tsu'tey dumb (which he most certainly wasn't), fake (because he was very real to Jake), or that he was his boyfriend (which was just crazy).

"He's not dumb," is what Jake had settled on, having less evidence to refute the other two claims.

"You're right," Tommy had thrown his hands in the air with a scowl, "your imaginary boyfriend is very cool and smart and handsome and whatever else you've called him."

Jake's cheeks burned, he couldn't remember ever calling Tsu'tey handsome, at least not out loud.

"But, I'm tired of hearing about it, I'm tired of you telling me about it," Tommy was hissing the words through his teeth, careful not to alert their parents, "I know everyone at school has told you to shut up about it, they think you're weird... I think you're weird, so do me a favor and stop bothering me about your weird dreams.

"No one believes you, you get that, right? Not mom, not dad, not any of our friends, and definitely not me. It's all you talk about, your stupid fairy world with that stupid T'sty guy. We're almost teenagers, you need to stop acting like a dumb kid and grow up or else everyone is going to stop talking to you and you'll just be a weird freak and I'll be the twin of a weird freak."

And that had been that, Jake hadn't been able to formulate a reply, had turned away from his brother so he couldn't see the tears burning at his eyes, and didn't say another word.

When you're young, as young as Jake and Tommy had been that morning, you don't understand the damage words can do. Tommy didn't mean to take away the last opportunity Jake had to share his look into Tsu'tey's life, didn't mean to turn Jake off from opening up much to any human for the remainder of his time on earth, he truly, honestly, hasn't meant to hurt his brother in the all encompassing, long-standing way that he had.

By the time Tommy had grown enough to realize the damage just a few words could have, he had long forgotten that morning, forgotten why his relationship with his brother had drifted apart. If you asked him, he probably couldn't even remember Jake's dreams.

It's funny, how life works, the things we forget, and the things we remember somewhere in the back of our minds. Jake never forgot that morning, it played back in his mind over and over well into adulthood. And maybe it wasn't fair to hold so tightly into the words of a child, but they were words that had shaped him, had taken the part of himself that wanted to share his excitement, to share the world only he could see, and pressed it deep down until the impulse was gone all together.

Tommy forgot his words days after he'd said them, moved on, unaware of their impact. Even still, even though he forgot the words and forgot the reason behind him, listening to Jake for so many years about a far away boy and a far away place had awoken something in him. Despite any annoyance Tommy had grown to feel about listening to Jake tell the stories, it bloomed in him a love of scientific intrigue, of what was beyond their understanding.

What cruel irony, that the cause for his life long pursuit of knowledge—the thing he had shut down with the oblivious cruelty of a child—was just within his grasp, before it was taken all away.

There was no way for Jake to know any of that, though he may have had some suspicions, with a relationship strained from a decade old wound.

So perhaps it could be forgiven when, nearly a week after their return from the Tayrangi territory, Jake wasn't quite overflowed with the same joy that had filled him when he'd seen his mother so many weeks ago, when they awoke to the now, quite cramped, childhood bedroom, with Tommy sitting at the nearby desk.