Author's Note: Hello, my loves! Sorry for the wait! I have been agonizing on how to move forward with this story, flip floping on what I should do, so I'm sorry this took so long to get out. I hope that you enjoyed!
"Aww, he really likes you, Colonel," Fike says with a loose smile as he's looking past Ja and Walker. "You're really good with him."
"He's exhausted," Quaritch says, carefully rocking back and forth as he walks around the commons, rubbing the boy's back. He catches sight of Zhang leaning against the counter in their kitchenette area, sipping at a cup of coffee, having been watching them in silence. He tips his head a bit in acknowledgement. "And he's sick. He should be in medical."
A small pointer finger runs along the strap of his tank top, not used to the feel of the fabric. His breathing is low and shaky, but he doesn't complain, golden eyes drooping a bit as the motion is putting him to sleep. There is a rattling in his little chest as he tries to fill his lungs, but once more, the bot is unbelievably quiet. Not complaining or making any unnecessary noises. Despite the fact that he is obviously struggling to breathe.
"They were scaring him," Ja says carefully, twisting around at his waist to watch Quaritch pace back and forth.
Quaritch doesn't respond, glancing down at the dozing Na'vi hybrid. Before the boy can fall asleep though, he pulls back to look at Quaritch, blinking big, tired golden eyes. His ears flicker and a little yawn pulls at him.
"Sempul? Daddy?" He reaches up and rubs at his forehead again, like it was still bothering him. The mark on his forehead still angry and dark.
The three other recoms jolt in surprise at that. They look between each other and then back to the colonel, who doesn't seem surprised to hear that from the little boy. He blinks slowly, though, trying hard to keep his face neutral. He's not sure if it was a frown pulling on his lips, or why his eyebrows twitched up toward his hairline. His face just yanked in different directions so fast he almost didn't catch any of it.
"He can speak English?" Fike asks. A tension in Quaritch's chest loosens a bit at that being what caught their attention, not what the little boy said specifically.
"Sully must have taught him," Ja says, lifting the bill of his hat so that he can rub at his forehead. "But probably basic stuff you would teach a kid that age. Mommy, daddy, that sort of thing."
Quaritch looks down at the little head resting on his shoulder again, his hand still lightly touching the fabric of his tank top. A few braids, long enough to brush his cheek rest there, one being moved around with each blink from impossibly long lashes.
"Mommy?" Quaritch says.
The little boy perks up, golden eyes flickering around the room as if looking for her. "Mommy?"
He blinks, touching the mask on his face but doesn't pull it off. He looks over at Quaritch, gently running a small finger down the markings on his nose. He mumbles something, reaching up to touch his forehead again staring into Quaritch's eyes.
"Doesn't your head hurt?" Quaritch asks, trying to keep his voice even. He thinks earlier that morning, what the little boy had said. "...owie?"
The little boy tilts his head to the side a bit, a little pout pulling at the corners of his lips. "Owie?" Quaritch raises an eyebrow, nodding with his eyes flickering toward the bruise and opening his mouth to ask again but the little boy shakes his head, frowning lightly now. "No, no owie..." He looks away, as if ashamed.
Quaritch stares at him, trying to decide why the boy was saying that when it was obvious that he wasn't telling the truth. He seems hesitant, little face scrunching up a bit, as if concerned before letting out a watery sigh, lungs full of mucus before glancing at Quaritch shyly.
"What?" Quaritch asks, raising an eyebrow.
The little boy presses his lips together before pointing at the blossoming bruise on his forehead and quietly saying, "Owie..."
"I asked if it hurt and you said no," Quaritch says, keeping his voice even while raising his eyebrows. "So, which is it? Owie or no owie, huh?"
The little boy frowns at him, not understanding. At least, not fully. He glances over at Ja, Fike and Walker, hesitantly as his little ears press back. He presses his lips tightly together before pointing at his forehead again and whispers, "Owie..." His voice is raspy and thick. He lets out a little cough.
"I don't know what you want," Quaritch says plainly, right as Zhang makes his way over.
"He wants a kiss," Zhang says, stopping next to the colonel. "Kisses make owies better."
Quaritch blinks, surprised, while Ja and Fike both look at each other in surprise that none of them had thought about it. The little boy, looking around innocently, sniffles a bit, still trying to breathe and points to his forehead again. "Owie..."
Zhang looks around at the room, raising an eyebrow behind his shades. "None of you ever got your booboos kissed by your mom or dad?" He takes a slow sip of his coffee. "That's sad."
A beat of silence, where the other men in the room look to one another, wondering if Zhang was actually asking that or not.
"Oh, for God's sake," Walker huffs, climbing to her feet and walking over to Quaritch too. "Come here, baby blue." She reaches her hands out, cups his pale cheeks and brings him down enough to kiss at the bruise on his forehead. "There. Owie all better?"
The little boy smiles, flushing a bit of color into his pale cheeks. He says something in Na'vi, smiling shyly at her before he lets out another little yawn before leaning forward to rest on Quaritch's shoulder, pressing his forehead into Quaritch's neck. The plastic of his face mask pressing a bit into his collarbone, but nothing that he can't ignore as the little boy, growing warmer by the moment, starts to drift again.
Maria smiles sweetly at the little boy before turning around to look at Ja and Fike, placing her hands on her hips. "Pussies."
Ja and Fike playfully argue back as the little boy shifts a bit in Quaritch's arms, as if uncomfortable. Quaritch debates on if he should put the boy down or not, still unsure of what exactly he's going to do. He moves one hand to the boy's ribs, getting ready to pull the small child from his chest and as if sensing it, the boy holds on tighter, burying his face more into Quaritch's neck.
It starts in his stomach. Quaritch can feel the tightening of the muscles there as they tense beneath his fingers, bouncing a few times before it works up into his chest until he's pulling away from the safety of Quaritch's neck. He pulls the mask from his face and leans away, turning his face into his elbow. He coughs so long and hard that it shakes his little body. He grips at his chest, then his throat. Once he's done coughing, he takes a few shaking breaths. He swallows a few times, blinking dampness from his eyes.
Quaritch frowns, making his way into the kitchenette, past Zhang, who is frowning at the boy's coughing fit, grabbing a reusable bottle from the fridge of cold water. He pulls off the lid and brings it over to the boy. The boy hesitates, glancing down into the cup, ears perking. He pulls down the mask again after a few puffs of air and leans forward more, sniffing at it.
"Water?" Quaritch says, balancing the boy on one arm. "Thirsty?"
The little boy reaches out little hands to take the bottle, hesitating for a moment before bringing it up to his mouth and leaning back carefully as to not spill on himself. He takes a few swallows, tails twirling behind him, lightly tapping against Quaritch's side and his arm. He shivers a bit at the temperature, but seems to appreciate it, as he pulls back to take a few breaths before tipping it back to drink more. Once he's done, he lets Quaritch put the lid back on before wrapping his arms around the bottle, cradling it to his chest.
"No now," Quaritch says, reaching for the bottle neatly squished between them. "If you want it to stay cold, you got to put it back."
The little boy wilts a bit, looking down at the bottle before bringing it up a bit and pressing it against his neck before offering it back to Quaritch, who hesitates. He takes the bottle back and puts it into the fridge. He helps the boy put the mask back on his face. "You do feel a little warm..." he mumbles.
"His fever is probably spiking again," Walker says, appearing next to him. She reaches out and touches the little boy's forehead with the back of her head. "Okay, baby blue, how about we let you lay down somewhere cool?"
Quaritch feels himself hesitate for a split second when Walker reaches for the boy. But then he catches himself, scowls inwardly, and passes the boy over to her. Pale faced and exhausted, the boy doesn't fight, wrapping himself around Walker as she carries him to her room, flipping on the ceiling fan and moving over to her bed. Quaritch, from where he is, can see her lowering him onto the bed, after untucking the blankets, and wrapping him up in them. She murmurs something to him that Quaritch can't hear, and doubts the boy understands, before dropping down onto her hunches and rubbing at his back, talking to him softly.
It doesn't take long for the rest of Blue Team to pile out of their rooms, most showered and ready for the day, talking about briefings that was left on their computers for them - no doubt what most had been up to first thing in the morning, which is something that Quaritch should be doing. Getting updates on the situation and how things have changed since his last memories.
Or, well, Miles Quaritch's last memories. No, his. No - damn you, Maria Walker.
Prager, who was walking toward him with his mouth open, about to say something, spots the scowl forming on his face and immediately changes direction. Mansk half a step behind him. If it's important, they'll bring it up later.
"Is that the kid in there?" Brown asks, glancing over his shoulder as he walks by Walker's room. "What's he doing here?"
"I bet Sean folded like a lawn chair and rescued him from the big bad medical bay," Warren says on his way to the kitchenette to get some coffee.
"Hey, fuck you," Fike says, glaring over the counter at the other recom.
Z-dog lowers into one of the stools by the counter separating the kitchenette from the living space, chewing away at her gum. She pops a bubble and says, "Should be easy for him, without a spine and all."
Warren grins viciously while Brown barks out a laugh, leaning against the counter next to Z-dog. Wainfleet walks over to Walker's doorway, leaning against it with his arms crossed over his chest. He doesn't turn to look at Quaritch, which the other man is thankful for. Unlike most of them which he can hide easily from, Lyle knows him too well, is too sharp.
"Again with that, Z?" Fike groans, covering his face with his hands as Ja punches him in the shoulder with a laugh. "It wasn't just me, if you must know. Zhang, Ja, and Walker were there too."
"To stop you?" Z-dog asks, popping another bubble.
"No," Fike admits, then blinks. "Wait, it wasn't even my idea! Zhang was the one that charged in there like an angry bull and Walker was the one that scooped him up and brought him back here. Why are you dogging on me, Z?"
She shrugs. "It's fun."
He scowls while some of the others chuckle. Quaritch looks over at Zhang, ignoring the playful jabs from his underlings to ask, voice low, "Was it bad? How you found the kid?"
Despite how low his voice was - so low a normal human wouldn't be able to pick out - the room quieted. Normal humans wouldn't be able to hear him, but they weren't normal humans. In fact, they weren't human at all.
Zhang shrugs his shoulders, taking another sip from his coffee. "He wasn't hurt or anything. Just scared. They wanted to run more tests on him, which I'm sure is fine, but he needed to get away from them. I saw it in his eyes. It's too fresh. Too scary. Ardmore just tortured him. He's not ready to be alone with humans. I know he has to go back to get well, but he needs some time."
Prager sits down on one of the couches. "Get well? What's wrong with him? Is it from the brain scrambling yesterday?"
"In part, probably," Ja says, "but you should hear him. The kid sounds like he's got a cold. Must have been sick before we picked him up."
A tightness forms in Quaritch's chest, but he forces the feeling into the back of his head. Calmly, evenly, he says, "I spoke with the doc earlier this morning. Kid apparently lost the genetic lottery."
"What does that mean?" Warren asks, walking into the room with his coffee. He leans against the back of one of the empty couches.
"According to the doc," Quaritch says slowly, keeping his voice even as he places his hands on his hips and looks around at the identical golden eyes staring back at him, "Sully's gummed up Avatar DNA isn't meshing well with a full blooded Na'vi's. According to the doctor, kid's going to be spending all his life sick to some measure. Looks like a long road of hardships for him." His words were even, impartial, even impersonal, but it felt wrong. It felt cold. It felt cruel.
But Quaritch didn't acknowledge that either.
A beat of silence, before Fike admits, "I don't understand."
"It sounds like this kid is going to suffer a lot, for his entire life," Lopez says, stepping up next to Warren. "At this point he's probably too sick to even take him back to the forest and leave him there. I'm hesitant to think a heathy kid his age would survive. Now, he's sick as a dog? Fat chance."
Thinking back on how the boy kept almost falling asleep in his arms, Quaritch could help but silently agree. There was no way that kid was going to survive out there on his own. In any case, they needed to keep him for a few days. Just to make sure he regains his strength. Just until he's strong enough to survive with more ease.
"So, I guess, he stays here for a bit," Mansk says, crossing his arms over his chest as he sits on the arm of the couch Prager is sitting on. "Just until he gets better."
Quaritch is glad that someone else said it. At least he's not the only one thinking it. And thankfully, no one argues.
"He's asleep," Walker announces, quietly closing the door to her room. She and Wainfleet walk over to join the group. "And I learned something we're going to need to know moving forward."
"Oh?" Brown says, surprised that the kid would reveal something important now that he hadn't under his brief torture. Maybe they didn't ask the right questions.
"Yes," Walker says, looking around the gathered recombinants, her eyes landing on Quaritch and staying there. He doesn't shift or shrink under her gaze, keeping his own level with hers as she says, "He told me his name. He said that it is Neteyam."
Neteyam is an angel.
No one said it, and no one had to. The little boy slept for an hour and half before he came from Walker's room, in the middle of them discussing the shit show of a mission they were on the day before, working on what little knowledge they had gathered about Sully and the hunters that were with him, and made his way over to Quaritch, golden eyes watery as he sniffles and crawls into the colonel's arms, shaking in terror. His eyes darting around, locating shadows and shrinking away from them. His arms and the cheek that he rested against Quaritch's neck were cold, but the rest of him was warm.
Quaritch hesitates for a moment before wrapping his arms more securely around the boy. No harm in offering a bit of comfort and kindness. Just like Sully, Quaritch wasn't a monster either. He could be nice. When he wanted to be.
Despite having obviously woken up from a nightmare, the boy just silently cried to himself. Sniffling with tear tracks down his cheeks. Not a whine or a sob to be heard outside of a shaky breath here and there.
"Why does he still have a mask on?" Brown asks as Ja moves to stand behind the couch Quaritch is sitting on to make faces at Neteyam, his teary eyes clearing up and a shy smile crossing his pale face.
"Yeah, can't he breathe this air?" Lopez asks, frowning.
"Normally," Walker says walking over to Neteyam. "But I can hear his congestion, he probably can't breathe right now. This is helping him." She kneels down next to Quaritch, patting the boy on his back. "Neteyam?"
Neteyam pulls from Quaritch a bit, dragging his eyes away from Ja to look at Maria, still smiling. He says something softly in Na'vi, tilting his head a bit.
Walker pantomimes eating. "Are you hungry? Do you want food?"
Neteyam watches the motion, blinking before shaking his head. He says something softly, motioning towards his stomach and then his throat.
Walker frowns at that. "Does your stomach hurt? Or do you feel nauseous?" Neteyam tilts his head, not understanding the words she's saying. Walker hesitates, thinking, before she touches his stomach with the tips of her fingers as he's mostly still leaning into Quaritch. "Hurt? Owie?"
Neteyam's ears press back and he shakes his head in negative, a cute little pout crossing his lips.
"Nauseous then," Maria says slowly. "I guess we'll have to see if the eggheads have anything for it."
"Good luck, he's the only child Na'vi we got," Lopez points out.
"Right..." Walker mumbles. "Maybe homebrew recipes?"
"I could go ask," Fike offers, pushing up onto his feet. "I'm sure the science teams have the data Doctor Augustine collected over the years. I'm sure Na'vi home recipes are part of it, right?"
"Don't see why not," Mansk says, slowly, also moving to his feet. "I'll come. I want to take a look around Bridgehead while we're at it."
"Same," Prager jumps in, joining the other too. "We are going to need to get a lay of the land, anyway. We aren't at Hell's Gate anymore."
No one disagreed with that. Prager, Mansk and Fike grab whatever they need from their rooms before heading out, Fike stopping to pat Neteyam on the head, grinning at the little smile the boy sends his way, recognition shining in his eyes. He reaches out to Fike, saying something softly in Na'vi before coughing and twisting away, that little hand patting at his chest again.
Neteyam turns toward Quaritch, blinking big eyes as he gently touches the man's face. Behind him, Walker passes Mansk a list of things for them to get while they were out, walking around to bring back for Neteyam. Then they were off. All the while, Quaritch and Neteyam are both staring at each other as Neteyam touches the older man's face, golden eyes wide.
"You do a lot of touching, you know?" Quaritch says softly to the boy as the other recoms murmur amongst themselves, trying to figure out their next move.
Neteyam tilts his head at Quaritch's words. He says something, coughing slightly. He clears his throat, sounding congested, but his eyes are wide and alert. The inside of his mask is covered in spittle and fogging over, but that was one of the things that Maria instructed the others to get. Quaritch peaks at the little breathing pack on his side to see the light is yellow, so he still has time before he's going to need more.
Neteyam grabs onto the hand that's resting on his ribs and brings it up to look at. He runs his fingers over Quaritch's eyes wide as he counts the additional finger, ears perking. He smiles, gently grabbing hold of Quaritch's pinky and turns bright golden eyes up at him.
"Sempul," he says, then something else. He puts one of his tiny hands against Quaritch's palm, not noticing the flicker of pain across the man's face that quickly clears up. One finger completely absent and the other four are so small in comparison to the older man's.
Quaritch feels a smile pull at the corner of his lips as the little boy's attention falls to his watch once more. He twists Quaritch's hand around and looks at the watch, eyes wide. He says something, gently touching the smooth face of the watch with a single finger. He sniffles, using the other hand to adjust the mask on his little face, but doesn't utter a complaint. Doesn't whine or be too loud. Just sits quietly, inspecting Quaritch's watch, while the older man stares at him, mentally warring with himself once more.
"He seems used to the mask," Ja, who was still behind Quaritch, says aloofly.
Quaritch frowns at that, subconsciously having noticed that as well. He doesn't fiddle with it. He doesn't mess with it aside from pushing it back in place. This isn't his first time using one.
So, Sully is aware of how weak his son's constitution is. And he's using the humans that remained on Pandora, and their technology, to try and help him. Unbelievable. So, the technology is fine, but only if he gets to pick and choose? Not a purist, then.
Did Sully know that his son was sick yesterday?
A spear of anger lances through his chest. Quaritch is out here, no idea where his - or, Miles Quaritch's - or his... maybe? He doesn't know where Miles Jr is. He doesn't know if he's hurt or scared or in danger, he knows nothing. Yet Sully might have let his horribly ill son out with him doing whatever the hell it was that they were doing when Blue Team found them, and lost him anyway? What the hell was so important out there that Sully would risk his son's health for? His son!
The little voice in the back of his head wants to remind him that they weren't sure when the boy got sick, but Quaritch can't think straight. If he knew that his own son - or, well, Miles Jr - was that susceptible to illness, he would be taking every precaution that he could. Now, he knows that one of the ways to strengthen an immune system is to subject it to illness, but this kid might never get that. His immune system might never be strong enough to handle sicknesses greater than that of the common cold.
Quaritch doesn't know, though, and won't claim too.
And while he's trying to calm his anger because it's not right for him to have an opinion on this, he can't help but admire this child. Admire just how good he is. Not fussing or complaining. Even while not feeling well, he's keeping quiet and being respectful - maybe not of Quaritch's space, but well, he doesn't really mind it. A small, envious part of him wonders if Miles Jr would have been like this. Quartich has never spent a lot of time around children Neteyam's age, but the few that he has... well, they weren't like this.
But then again, they were human children. A lot of instincts were bred out of them.
Searching through his memories, he recalls having learned that Na'vi babies learn to whine softly at first, instead of outright crying, as to not alert predators of their location but still to allow their parents to know that they are in need of something. It's only after prolonged periods of time where that need isn't met that they will get louder in order to get someone's attention.
Even on the ship back here, the boy was so quiet, whining so softly. Sounds like he never grew out of that quiet stage. Which, admittedly, probably means his needs were saw to immediately. He's not loud now because he never had to be in order to get attention. In order to be given what he needed. Or wanted.
God damnit.
No, Quaritch doesn't want to think of Jake Sully as anything other than an obstical in his path. Then a wrong that needed to be rewritten.
Sweet, angel Neteyam is all laughter and smiles by early evening.
Prager, Mansk and Fike returned with everything she asked for, while having scoped around Bridgehead to see some of what they missed when they were ushered out into the forest to hunt for Sully after way too short of a debrief. They hadn't much unexpected, except for one thing.
Avatars. Lots of them.
It should be expected, but for some reason they were shaken. No, it wasn't for some reason. It was because all the avatars spotted were military. All of them. What once was a pet project of the silence department, Jake Sully - in the place of his recently deceased brother - had been the first avatar with a soldier as a pilot. The recombinants of Blue Team were the only ones that were humans turned recombinants, but there was dozens of more teams.
Quaritch... doesn't know what he thinks about that. Search his memory as he might, he hadn't known about a massive expansion into the military mindset for the avatars. It was only a matter of time, of course, but it feels like Jake Sully's mere existence blasted open that floodgate, whether any of them fully realized it or not. Maybe it was something already in the works before Tom Sully died, but maybe it wasn't. Maybe they capitalized on their incredible luck that one of their avatar drives just so happened to have an identical twin brother so that his death wouldn't cause his avatar to be inert. Maybe Jake Sully's existence gave them justification.
We already have one. Why not have more?
Despite the dark cloud hanging over everyone at that news, no one said anything around Neteyam. Content to keep him giggling and smiling. His mask newly changed out with a clean one, air refilled with medicine that they've been feeding him, and a shot in his tiny arm for nausea. He was eating fruits taken from the whiz heads, laughing around chunks of it in his mouth at the funny voices Fike is making as he tells the boy story after story, each character having insane inflections and charactured voices. The boy didn't understand the stories but loved the voices.
Neteyam, who had been glued to Quaritch all day, was now sitting in his own chair, looking impossibly small in it, eating his fruits happily, golden eyes glittering as he listens to Fike. Zhang, Ja and Lopez at the table with them, the latter two poking fun at Fike for Neteyam's amusement, even if he doesn't understand their words. Zhang was just sitting quietly, listening to them talk, and staring at Neteyam.
Warren, Brown and Z were standing in the kitchen, murmuring in the kitchen over whatever Warren was cooking. Prager and Mansk were sitting at the island, arguing about something. Or, Prager was, Mansk was just shaking his head at everything he was saying.
Lyle was sitting on the couch next to the one Quaritch was sitting on, both lost to their thoughts when Walker steps up in front of Quaritch, lowering down onto her hunches and lowering her voice. "Poison."
Quaritch blinks from his thoughts, raising an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"
"Nocturnis Havaro, ever heard of it?"
"Hell no I haven't," Quaritch says, staring at her. "What is it?"
"It's a flower. A specific type of flower. It's a flower that blooms only at night and releases spores into the air at the first touch of sunlight before closing up. They're rare, hard to find, but reports indicated that they are some in that portion of the forest that we found Sully in."
Lyle leans forward, steepling his hands between his knees as he stares at Walker. "Okay, and? Are they poisonous?"
"Yes, very much so." She looks between Lyle and Quaritch. "It's fast acting too. It'll kill a full-grown adult Na'vi within twenty-four hours after ingestion. A child Neteyam's size? Half that, maybe. Now someone with Neteyam's constitution? Probably two third to half even that. The fact that they found traces of it in his system after all this time means that they were cutting it close."
Quaritch stiffens but doesn't respond to that. Doesn't acknowledged the tightening in his chest, or how his eyes flickered over Walker's head to look at the little boy, laughing hard as he draws up the mask hanging around his neck to breathe a few times before lowering it again to keep eating.
Alarming, but it's been over twelve hours since Neteyam has come to them. And she had said traces of it was in his system. And her face isn't pinched in worry, so the danger has passed. That's good, at least. She hadn't directly said that Neteyam was infected, but she didn't have to. She wouldn't have mentioned him if he hadn't been.
Hadn't been, being the key here.
"Okay," Quaritch says slowly, trying to keep his voice even. "And why do I care about this flower?"
"They found traces of its poison in Neteyam's system," Walker says, confirming his thoughts. "It's why they were out there. They were looking for a cure for this poison," She continues, her voice low. She glances over her shoulder at Neteyam, but while he's been clinging to Quaritch all day, he's content and distracted for the time being.
"But he seems fine now, so they found it?" Lyle asks to clarify.
Walker nods. "Yeah, it's those spores. The flower itself is dangerous, but if you breathe in the spores, it counteracts the poison of the flower. They went to the part in the forest to find one that was still blooming in the shade of the trees. They remove the shade obscuring it and poof, out comes the spores. But get this, the eggheads said it doesn't come without side effects, like dizziness, drowsiness, confusion and disorientation. Amongst some other things, but that sounds like our boy when we first got him."
Our boy. She said it. Twelve hours in. Lyle twitches at that, sparing a glance at Quaritch from behind his shades, but the other man's face is hard-set, almost like he didn't hear it. And if he did, he's not reacting to it.
Walker doesn't appear to realize what she said as she continues on, shifting her weight between her feet at her squatted position, "See now, normally, when someone gets infected and cured, they're laid up for a day or so. With children though, it sets their immune systems into a frenzy. Their bodies attack the foreign matter in any way they can, causing fevers, coughing and runny noses making it appear as if - "
"It were a common cold," Quaritch finishes. He glances over at Neteyam. The chair the boy is sitting in offers them his side profile as he laughs, saying something in joy back at a grinning Fike. Neither knowing what the other is saying, yet both obviously enjoying each other's company.
Walker nods, her face strangely grim despite this being a question answered that no one thought to ask.
"Is this where you went earlier?" Lyle asks while Quaritch studies her hard expression. "To the medical labs?"
She nods. And she had. Her and Zhang left after Mansk, Fike and Prager returned and she saw to Neteyam's immediate needs. His mask, air and medicine. They had returned not that long ago.
"What's wrong?" Lyle asks, knowing that expression well.
She glances over at her shoulder at Neteyam for a long moment, considering something before turning back to Quaritch and Lyle, lowering her voice more, "One of the eggheads told me that this poison is very specific. It's a message. Someone used it as a direct target against Jake Sully. It's a warning against Toruk Makto. Whoever it was that did this, intended on killing Neteyam as a message to Sully. One of the forest clans is in active hostilities with the Omatikaya."