Author's Note: Sorry about the wait! Enjoy!
Quaritch is quiet for a long moment, staring across the room at the small, giggling boy, his crested eyes looking between Fike and Ja. It's in that moment that Quaritch had to wonder if he would do the same if he was put into the position of needing to.
But isn't that what he was been planning this whole time? Wasn't he going to use this sickly boy to hurt Sully too? Wasn't he musing about how to best Sully and while Quaritch isn't a monster how far would he be willing to go? Is he sensitive about this now just because he has had a bit of time to get to know the little boy? And is it even about the boy - Neteyam - or is it because of Miles Jr? Is he super imposing his son in this situation?
He just... doesn't know.
"So, I was talking with the doctor, and they want to run more tests on him," Walker says after a long silence to give the two men a chance to absorb her words.
"What for? This poisonous plant?" Lyle asks.
Walker shakes her head. "It's working its way out of her system so there isn't really anything new that they can learn from him as far as that is."
"Then what is the tests for?" Lyle asks, shifting his weight slightly from one hip to the other.
Walker sighs, moving to stand, stretching out her limbs and adjusting the pressure that she put on her feet and hips. She runs her hands up and down her thighs for a moment, chewing on her lower lip. "He is the first hybrid specimen between a full blooded Na'vi and an artificially created avatar. They want to know what makes him tick, no doubt. There are probably other reasons, but he's an anomaly."
There is a beat of silence, before Quaritch says, "He has to go back. He needs some level of medical attention that he isn't going to get sitting on that chair over there."
Walker opens her mouth, to protest, then thinks better of it. Her jaws snap shut, and she looks away for a moment to collect her thoughts. Quaritch admires her self control. She looks back over at him and asks, calmly, "Are we just going to leave him there?"
"'Course not," Quaritch says gruffly. He leans back into the couch, crossing his arms over his chest. "Kid is still sick. You said so yourself, there is poison in his system. Even if the kid is on the mend, he still needs someone to look after him. Even if the doc didn't pick up that his cold was more than just a cold, doesn't mean he was wrong when he said the kid's immune system was shot to shit."
"Fair point," Walker admits.
"They might be able to give him something to help him," Lyle throws out there. "And he doesn't have to stay there. We can just bring him back here when he's done." He shrugs his shoulders nonchalantly. Quaritch gives him a side-eye, not believing that flippant attitude for a second. He smirks a bit when Lyle pointedly refuses to look over at him even for a moment.
Quaritch sighs, climbing to his feet. He looks across the room at the little boy, still giggling happily. He moves around Walker and heads for Neteyam. The little boy looks up at Quaritch, chewing his food slowly, little mouth sill spread in a wide smile. He says something ending in, "Sempu." Then he reaches out with a little hand to fist Quaritch's camo pants.
"Finish up eating, kiddo," Quaritch says, nodding toward the half-eaten fruit in his hand. "We got to get you checked out by the doctors. So, finish up. Quick, now."
Quaritch can feel the eyes of the rest of Blue Team on him, but no one speaks out against him. No one argues. Even Fike and Ja, both of which tense up at his words, force their voices to remain even as they keep talking. Neteyam, none the wiser, just continues to laugh at them and take bites of his fruit between puffs of his air. Which the little breathing pack has an indicator light that is blinking yellow. So that timing is really good.
Neteyam takes a few more bites before placing the fruit onto the table. Quaritch waves his hand. "Alright," he says, "come on now. Let's go." He gives a little wave when Neteyam didn't seem to understand. That helps him. Neteyam pushes to his feet, moving his mask back into place and dutifully follows behind Quaritch like a tiny puppy, still holding onto the colonel's pants. Quaritch keeps his steps purposefully small so that the little boy can keep up.
Lyle moves to his feet to follow and so does Maria, heading towards the dividing room that will lead them further into the facility. Neteyam follows behind Quaritch without complaint. He rubs at his face a bit as he goes, pushing his long braids away from his little face.
Once they get into the dividing room and it seals shut, hissing as the air is switched around so that they can safely enter into the human side of the facility without releasing toxic fumes into it. Neteyam presses hard into Quaritch's leg, ears pressed back in fear as he looks around. More steam and hissing as the Recoms put their own face masks into place. Neteyam looks around at them, pressing closer to Quaritch while whispering something softly that none of them pick up.
The door opens, and despite the boy being scared, he followed behind Quaritch without complaint, his little hand still knotted up in the man's camo pants. He looks down at the floor once they get into the other section of the building, looking at his little feet slapping against the smooth tiled floor, unfamiliar with the texture and the shine.
Quaritch, Neteyam, Wainfleet and Walker make their way through the facility quietly. A single of Quaritch's steps is like three of Neteyam's as the little boy struggles to keep up even with Quaritch's slower pace and with his little fist wrapped around a section of his camo pants.
He comes to a sudden stop outside of the medical wing, Neteyam doesn't stop in time and bounces off the back of his leg and stumbles back into Lyle's leg and then down onto his butt. Neteyam grunts, twisting onto his hip to look up at Quaritch with big eyes.
Quaritch turns, looking down at him for a moment before dropping down onto his hunches, getting as close to eye level as he can get. Neteyam sits up so that he can get a little closer to Quaritch, creases forming between his eyes. "Daddy?"
"Listen, kiddo, we are going to need to get you in there to take care of some of your problems, you know?" He waves his hand around a bit. "I don't like the science pukes or doctors any more than you do, but they got their uses, okay?"
Neteyam blinks at him, not understanding. Quaritch sighs, rubbing at his forehead, before standing up and holding out a hand for Sully's son. Neteyam takes it and stands up, head still tilted in confusion. Then, after a brief hesitation, Quaritch scoops Neteyam up into his arms.
Neteyam wraps his arms around Quaritch's neck and pressing his cheek against the Recom's. Quaritch stiffens for a moment before shifting Neteyam onto his left side and bringing him into the avatar part of the medical wing, going through another dividing door before getting in. Neteyam looks around the room with wide eyes at the blinking lights, his little tail twirling around.
It's only when they get into the medical wing that Neteyam seems to recognize where they were, and his entire body goes rigid. His eyes widen and flicker around wildly, curling tighter around Quaritch.
"Now, kiddo, you got to be brave, you hear me?" Quaritch says, running a hand up and down the boy's back.
Neteyam, face pale with terror, glances over at him, shaking. "Daddy," Neteyam whispers, eyes blown wide. "Daddy, owie..." Quaritch frowns at him, taking in the little boy's terrified expression. How his little body shakes and how cold his little hands are getting from it. His lower lip trembles as he shakes his head a little bit. "Daddy, owie... owie..."
Walker gives a look over at Wainfleet with this look on her face. He looks back at her, lips pressing together tightly. Whatever she sees from beneath his shades, she just shakes her head and looks away, jaw flexing. She sucks in a deep breath and steps closer, placing a hand on the little boy's back. "It's okay, baby blue. We aren't going to let anyone hurt you, I promise."
The doctor, which Walker whispered to Lyle and Quaritch, was the same woman from earlier that morning, was happy to see Neteyam returned. Neteyam was far less happy to be back. Quaritch say on the big bed next to him, the little boy shaking like a leaf as the doctor runs tests on him. Checks his weight again, then his blood pressure and temperature. They take a few blood samples and mouth swaths. Neteyam is shaken the whole time, his little body ice cold in fear as his tiny hands grip Quaritch's much larger hand.
They replace his breathing pack and give him a shot that the doctor said was an "immune booster". Neteyam is quietly crying the whole time, trying to disappear into Quaritch's side. Despite Maria quietly trying to sooth him, he just keeps crying, tensing in fear whenever one of the doctors and aids touch him. Lyle is standing a few feet away, staring down the soldiers that appeared not long after Neteyam returned and while they are glaring daggers at the bald recombinant, they don't get any closer. Not with Quaritch sitting on the bed between them and Neteyam, watching them with a cold smile on his lips, and Lyle a few feet away, not at all smiling in any way.
"It's okay, baby," Maria says, lightly pushing his long braids over his tiny shoulder as his arm is taped up again from where they drew blood.
Neteyam sniffles, struggling to breathe as his little body shakes. He doesn't pull his forehead away from where it's pressed into Quaritch's arm. His tail is twitching like crazy and as the minutes pass, a faint stench of urine reaches their noses, and it's then that Quaritch calls it a night. He scoops the boy up and heads back to their side of the facility, ignoring the doctors calling out to them. The soldiers looked like they wanted to stop him, but Quaritch barely even spares them another glance as he passes.
Wainfleet and Walker follow silently behind. It's been almost two hours since they came down here, and that was too much for Neteyam to handle. It was time for him to get out of there.
As soon as they get back to the Recom's quarters, Quaritch takes Neteyam into the private bathroom attached to his room and sits him down onto the toilet after lowering the lid. Neteyam sits there, curling up with his knees to his chest as he quietly cries, rocking back and forth. He softly murmurs, "Daddy. Daddy." Over and over again.
"I know," Quaritch says softly. He turns on the bath and runs his hand under the water, checking the temperature. Neteyam jumped at the sound of the water but leans closer to watch the water coming out of the spicket. He carefully slides to the ground next to be next to Quaritch. He tucks his legs underneath him, tail still laying limp around him. He cringes a little but doesn't complain.
"Daddy," Neteyam says softly, ears pressed against his skull. He swallows nervously before pointing a little finger at the water. He says something softly that lifts up at the end like a question.
Quaritch moves back a bit and nudges Neteyam closer to the water, letting him reach over and touch the warm water. Neteyam's eyes widen, studying the metal leading into the wall to figure out where the water is coming from.
After some back and forth, Quaritch is heading to the laundry room with Neteyam's soiled loincloth to wash it, while the little boy is splashing happily in the tub. The boy didn't mind him leaving with the loincloth save for a string of beads and stones and things that had been wrapped up in his waistband. Neteyam had insisted on unraveling it and putting it onto the rim of the bath before going back to play, not minding what happened to anything else attached to his loincloth, although after a moment of hesitation, Quaritch removed everything else that looked like it was for decoration and left it on the sink before leaving.
He keeps his bathroom and bedroom door open so that he can listen to ensure Neteyam wasn't drowning in the tub while he stops in the commons area where the other Recoms were gathered, bouncing from topic to topic still trying to come to terms with what happened to them. Coming back to life - metaphorically speaking, of course - what they were going to do next. But all they did was argue in circles back and forth, no one having a real answer on what to do next. It was moot until they could come to some sort of conclusion - or at least learn more about their situation.
"He was scared," Lyle says evenly as the Recoms glance at Quaritch's open door and then each other. They are all pretty much tired of their earlier conversation, not wanting to deal with the circle of conversation.
"Poor kid," Warren says quietly. "Ardmore fucked him up."
No one responds for a second, lost to their thoughts. Finally, Prager asks, slowly, "Has anyone thought about where he's going to stay tonight? Or is he going back to the medical wing?"
"Probably not," Lyle admits. "He's scared. If we want him to trust us at all, we can't bring him back there over and over again."
That was a good point. Did they want him to trust them? In order to get some level of compliance from him, they are going to need some trust. But they still haven't managed to come to some sort of agreement on what they were going to do with him. But it was still the first day and none of them knew what tomorrow was going to hold for them so for now, not ostracizing the baby half Navi is probably the best course of action for now. They already scared the actual piss out of him earlier, so it's best to continue forward with a much gentler approach.
Thankfully Neteyam seems to be content to play by himself, laughing and babbling alone. Occasionally, he'll stop and call out a soft, "Sempu?" and from the angle of the bathroom to the doorway Quaritch is standing in, all he has to do is flick his tail out for the boy to see and he happily goes back to playing, relieved that Quaritch was nearby in case he needed him.
Neteyam plays in the tub through the wash load, but once Quaritch has his loincloth moved to the dryer, he grabs a towel to wrap the boy up in and brings him into the commons area, completely wrapped up in a towel too big for him. His breathing pack is in Mansk's hands, as he carefully ties a strap around it to make it easier for Neteyam to carry around while he still needs it.
The heat from the hot bath water seemed to have helped Neteyam's breathing for a bit, but by the time his loincloth is dried and back on his little body, he needs it again. He carefully puts the long-beaded string back into the waistband of his loincloth before wrapping up in the blanket again, his long, thin tail curling happily. Quaritch took a bit of time to wipe up the mess of water that Neteyam had splashed onto the floor while he was playing and by the time he comes back, Walker has him resting against her side as he wraps up in a blanket, yawning again and again, eyes drooping.
For the second time that night, Prager asks, "Do we have an idea of where he's going to be staying tonight?"
"Unless someone is willing to give up their bed for the night, probably the couch, right?" Lopez asks, looking around.
"The couch is fine," Quaritch says dismissively, looking down at the drowsy boy, fighting to stay awake. The warmth of the bath, his cloths and now the blanket wrapped around him is putting him to sleep. "He's used to sleeping on rocks or tree roots or whatever. A couch will be good enough for him."
The couch wasn't good enough for Neteyam. That, or it was so unfamiliar of a feeling, or the space was too wide, or he was scared of the shadows, Quaritch didn't know which was true - especially since there is still a prominent language barrier. But besides that, Quaritch just about launched the little boy into the stratosphere when a little tapping and soft whimpering pulled him from his slumber. After blinking rapidly, calming down his racing heart, and taking a second to wake up. He takes in Neteyam's pitiful face and sad little, "Sempu," coupled with a string of no doubt an explanation that he stumbles through his hiccups to say.
He considers just sending Neteyam away, back to the couch to sleep or even daringly considers making a little pallet on the floor for him to sleep on but a tiny little hand squeezes his pinky, and a congested little voice calls him "Daddy" in English this time and he feels his shoulders loosen a bit. Once again, his mind is filled with wonder. Wonder if Miles Jr ever had to go through this? If he spent sleepless nights in a strange place seeking any comfort and safety that he could get, even if it was from a stranger? Would he want his son to be treated this way or not?
No, he would want his son to be treated with kindness.
Quaritch reaches for the little boy, who readily opens his arms to him. Quaritch picks him up and rests the little between himself and the wall, having no idea at what point do kids stop falling out of bed. Do they stop if they never started? If they have never slept in a bed before today? Quaritch has no idea. He kind of wishes that he had paid better attention to whenever the science pukes were talking about Omatikaya culture, maybe he would know more about their living conditions, like where exactly they sleep. On the floor in the dirt? Perched upside down on branches? He didn't know.
Or, well, the Miles Quaritch of before didn't.
Neteyam presses into his side, resting his forehead flush with Quaritch's arm and curling his little body tightly into a little ball, tail curling around his ankles. Then it's almost as if he drops off immediately, tiny body falling completely still. He never asks for more. Just enough. It's obvious that he wants to cuddle with Quaritch, being that close, pressed that tightly, but he doesn't. He takes only want it offered and doesn't ask for more. That can't be normal behavior.
Quaritch spends a few moments staring at the ceiling, watching a light green blinking light from Neteyam's breathing pack. He's trying to decide how he feels about this situation he's in. How would he have handled something like this in the past? He's... not sure. This was never something that could have been his reality in his past - or in the real Miles Quaritch's life, he supposes. He doesn't know how to feel because he doesn't have any basis to stand on. This is so out of his realm of understanding; he doesn't know what he's supposed to do.
He knows what he should do - what the little voice of the real Miles Quaritch says that he would do in this situation - but he doesn't... want to. He knows that to some level he is the same person, in the sense that he has the same memories, but the circumstances are so grossly different between them. Never mind the fact that before waking up, the memories of the real him... almost feel disconnected. Like he was looking at them slightly off kilter. But unnaturally clear. He knows from the memories of before that those things fade with time, yet he can recall his life - or Miles Quaritch's life - with unnatural clarity.
He doesn't like it. He doesn't like putting so much thought into this. No doubt that the him that came before didn't intend for him to be anything more than a good soldier that follows orders - just like he was. And certainly, he didn't care for the idea of his recombinant going through a newly minted life crisis. To be putting so much thought into dividing his current life, to the life that he lived before. Or the memories the man that lived it had implanted in him. This is so confusing.
God damn you, Maria Walker.
Carefully, Miles turns toward Neteyam, looking at his exhausted, pale yet peacefully sleeping little face. His mask fogging up with every wheezing little breath and his eyes moving beneath lighter blue eyelids. Those little glowing marks along his body, his face is pale, faint. Quaritch shifts his arm closer, comparing the brightness of the marks and feels a clenching in his chest at how much noticeably brighter his marks are from Neteyam's.
His body is weak from the poison, he tells himself. From the budding cold he's getting from this environment. The poison and the cold no doubt nuked whatever immune system he was building but the immune boosters that are now flooding his system appear to be helping - somewhat. So long as their cautious and careful, he should start getting better soon - right? Biology isn't his strong point on the best of days. And that's just human biology. He knows next to nothing about Na'vi biology. Except where to hit them to kill them. He can only hope that the people that know much more about these sorts of things than he does are looking out for the little boy. And even that thought worries him.
How, other than himself and his men, is he supposed to know who has his best intentions at heart?
No, why should any of them? He's Jake Sully's son! Quaritch should only care for the boy hard enough and long enough to ensure that he survives long enough to be useful to him. He's thinking too much about this. He's confusing himself.
The doctors were right, though, he has no immune system, which plays a part in why he's sick, but the poison is still working through him, and the effect of the cure is skewing just how sick this cold made him. They'll know more in the next few days, but even now, Quaritch can feel a sharp, harsh heat coming from him. His fever is back again.
Carefully, Quaritch slips out of bed, walking over to the fan switch and turning it on before walking back to the bed. He carefully wiggles the blanket out from under Neteyam and lays it across him. He removes the breathing pack resting on his little waist from the strap that Mansk made for him and rests it on the headboard, so it is out of the way before settling back into his bed and turning to look at the little boy. He didn't shift an inch that whole time.
Quaritch adjusts the blanket more over Neteyam's little body before turning his full body towards him and closes his eyes, forcing his racing mind to rest. He can be compassionate to a sick child and still do what he has to do.
Quaritch wakes up early and just stares at the slumbering little face resting on his shoulder. He had rolled onto his back at some point during the night and Neteyam must have taken that chance to scoot closer without Quaritch being able to deny him. Or maybe he just wanted comfort and closeness so bad that even in his dreams he's seeking it. Quaritch isn't sure which is true, but both of them make him sad. But he doesn't want to think about that anymore. Instead, he turns his attention back to Neteyam. His sleeping face is squished a bit to the side, his eyes moving quickly behind his lids, mask clouding up more and more with each breath. His long lashes fluttering across his cheeks as he dreams.
Would it be like this with Miles Jr? Would he have a close bond like this with his own son? Would he have the opportunity to be a good dad based on how he sees his memories? Would he be enough? Does Jake Sully even know what he has? What he had?
The colonel stares at the little boy's sleeping face for a long time, wondering about Miles Jr. Where he is and how he's doing. What he knows about Quaritch and his situation, if anything. He would be about the same age as Neteyam, just a bit older. A few months older, at least. Maybe six or so. So maybe, like Neteyam, Miles Jr doesn't know anything. If he's around here somewhere.
Frustrated, Quaritch carefully pulls out from under Neteyam's little face, settling the blankets around him to keep him warm and heads for the bathroom to clean up. Once he's showered and changed for the day, he sits at his desk in the corner and looks over his emails, using the easy one-time login information to get in before settling up his own password. He considers what to do. He could do his fall back from his memories or he can be careful so that the people who knew him back then wouldn't just be able to take a peek into his information.
Maybe so long as it's on this server and anyone with Ardmore's approval has access to it - but for the future...
No, that's... not what he should be thinking about right now. Why is he even thinking about this? Ridiculous.
Quaritch puts in his usual password and gets to work reading through the briefs that he should have the day before and what other information was sent to him. He can barely focus. He looks over to his bed every couple of lines to see that Neteyam hasn't moved from where he's sleeping - no, scratch that, he has. He's moved forward a bit so that he's where Quaritch was sleeping last night, little head resting on the colonel's pillow. His long braids are splayed across the pillow like a neatly woven halo around his head. He looks like a tiny blue angel.
Quaritch sighs, turning away for the hundredth time, rubbing at his forehead and forcing himself to focus on his reading. He has no idea what the future is going to hold for any of them, but he's going to be completely unprepared if he doesn't have any information.