A torrential downpour: grey, windy and insane—Pandora's reaction to the invasion of her nerve centre as they flew without clearance, deep into her mountains. They bore the mark of Eywa, and so, unauthorized to bite, no phalanx could attack. Quaritch pierced the veil of mist first, and his brigade obliterated the rest into swirls. All were on high alert with weapons ready and eyes scrutinizing every vertical shadow, but the very air felt empty. Spider was the most agitated of all; he knew exactly where they were and, worst of all, saw exactly where they were headed. "Why are we here?" he beseeched, but Quaritch turned Spider forward; the flyer needed to focus.

Robbed of detail by the fog, Mons Cocytus hovered before them as a blurry form, manifesting like a ghost of a Great Old One. Spider was petrified as his recombinant banked the mountain in search of the opening. He didn't want him to find it—he wouldn't possibly find it—but the more he fought the clamp on his shoulder, the more he gave Jake away.

When they neared the base of the fortress, Quaritch knew, from a single twitch, they were on the right track. He dived beneath the mountain, scanning the ceiling underside for the entrance. Obscuring limpid plant matter grew down from above, like tentacles in the deep ocean, and peeping from the shadows was the occasional cluster of yellow eyes. Through heavy mist and conjoining shapes, a maw came into view. Quaritch had Gloria beat the air, and on the last thrust, her wings folded in, and they penetrated High Camp.

Spider finally threw off the paw and sprung from Gloria, landing with a nasty roll that he didn't heed; rather, the youth screamed out, "The recombinants are here! Get out!"

Spider's frantic echo waned in decibels—no response.

Quaritch gave his orders via hand signs for every recombinant to hug the wall. The team spread out, making quiet footfalls as they oscillated their weapons. Spider's chest heaved; he was still on the ground, using all fours despite the constraint of his tight clothing, when he gaped up at his supposed friend. "What are you doing!" he demanded but was answered with an enigmatic expression. Was it pity? Was it indifference? Spider didn't know.

"I'm not picking up anything," said one of the recombinants.

"Place really is abandoned," replied another.

"No!" Spider yelled and shot off down the caverns.

The fluorescent lights were deactivated, but he knew the layout so well he could run through High Camp in the dark. As he did, narrow shafts of light illuminated pockets of the cave. The field cabins were abandoned, the teepees were gone, and the spot where Kiri's wigwam once stood was a cold, empty section of cave.

"No… No!"

Still in disbelief, the man ran again, but no matter what corner he turned, there was no one there to see him—no human, no Na'vi, not a single member of Jake's family; Spider had returned to a home that was as abandoned as he was. He stood in place, swivelling on his feet, wheezing and panting and wishing someone, anyone, would show. Only one figure did. Spider hissed at the back-stabbing recombinant and bolted away. Desperately, he ran, shouting the names of his family. "Neteyam!" he cried down a corridor. "Jake!" he called through a tunnel. "Mrs. Sully!" he repeated. "Mo'at! Max! Norm! Kiri…" His pleas echoed back to the focused recombinants, continuing their mission regardless of how relatable they found the cries of a soul utterly cut off from home.

Spider saw a faint light leaking from Mo'at's pagoda, the last place he knew to find Kiri. He burst into the cavity but found nothing—nothing but a single, robust sapling starting to bud. One foot lifted before the other as he staggered into the sanctum, walking through the falls of light that beatified him for entry. Bathed in white—baptized by the gentle rain—then back to blue, he came towards the plant. Withered at its base was a dead sun lily. With both hands, he picked up the delicate token. The petals were without the water of life and starting to crack from dryness. Blue eyes went heavenward to the opening in the rock, where a declaration that may have changed everything was never made. The son of Adam at last understood he was cut off from his Eve. "So that's why you brought me here…"

Quaritch observed Spider from the entrance. Droplets of rain speckled every fold of his ripstop poncho that trickled down as he approached. "We received message this morning that all the humans surrendered."

"What?"

"They reported the Na'vi kicked them out." He rubbed his fingers and moseyed closer. "It's better this way, Champ. Sully's moved on. He's nothing more than an aboriginal chief now, barely able to link to his avatar. I really don't think Bridgehead will waste any more time going after him. You won."

The young man was silent.

"They're safe," he had to emphasize, hoping to get through, but the man's thoughts were on a different track.

"They wouldn't take me back..."

"You couldn't have gone back—you never belonged."

"You don't understand. That day we got your ikran? I met Jake's son. He secretly followed us to the mountain, and I saw him."

Quaritch listened intently.

"He told me they weren't going to take me back. He said the clan didn't trust me anymore. I did nothing wrong, and they still left me to Bridgehead." Spider's hand came up on its own accord to feel his recent shame. "I could be with her right now…"

"It's time to move on, kid."

Spider's anger was surfacing through helpless chuffs and knowing head sways. "Move on to what? Bridgehead's not my home."

"It's not the home you want, but it's a place. Be thankful you even have it." He noticed the dead flower in his hands. "Life sucks, Spider, that's how it is."

"You want me to be like you…"

"I want you to have a chance."

"You want me to be a machine! To live a pathetic life in that stupid city where everything and everyone is dead! And pretend I'm happy for the rest of my miserable, lonely life, just like you did!"

The rant succeeded in jerking Quaritch's head back; it was not so much the words but whose mouth they flew out of. The high and tight haircut, the dull militant clothes—it wasn't Spider talking; it was him from thirty years ago, possessing the clairvoyance to insult every life choice he ever made.

Spider inhaled and faced the tree. "I'm not making your mistakes."

"So what would you do differently?" he entertained sarcastically.

"I'm going back to Kiri."

Quaritch shut his eyes to prepare for this turn, for he had learned from the fanatic how much of a hold that girl held over his boy. He inhaled and did his best to be understanding, but the "Quaritch" came out anyway. "And what then, Spider? Hold hands until your batteries give out? How about risking your life each time you pucker up?"

"Shut up!"

"I'm stating the facts. If you really love this Kiri so much, think! How long can you actually make it work?"

"I love her, La'ang..."

"Well, isn't that touching? Love will just magically make it all better, is that it? You're just a pink little alien to her. She's a— She's a Na'vi. Sooner or later, Mother Nature's going to catch up, and she'll realize size does matter. Don't sell yourself short, Champ. No girl is worth wearing a fish bowl on your head your entire life."

"She is," he droned, facing away.

Defeat wasn't what the recombinant wanted to hear; he wanted resolve. He forced Spider to turn in his direction. "Okay, answer me this. What if she wants what you can't give her?" Quaritch then did the unthinkable: he waggled his queue. He was trying to get him to understand, but all Spider saw was the most heartbreaking of taunts being flailed in his face. "This is kinda important to the ladies. I was reading just how important. You can't use one. You think she'd settle for that? Women can be really cruel, kid. If you think I'm being harsh, I'm just speaking from experience." Quaritch dropped the braid and took Spider's shoulders. "I don't want you getting hurt by that kind of humiliation—giving up everything only to find out she wants to go off with someone else—which she will. Give it time. Young love doesn't stay young forever." There was a pause before he ended with, "I just want you to be happy, Spider."

"What if she didn't care I was a Skyperson? What if it didn't matter to her that I don't have a kuru?"

He was now preaching to the ceiling. "And what if happy endings were real? It's time for you to exit this little fairytale you've been living in and come back to reality." Quaritch patted the drooping shoulders. "Let's go. I'm taking you home."

"I am home," he argued.

The giant shifted around. "Don't do this to me, Champ."

"Why should I go back with you? I've got nothing waiting for me in that prison."

The blue arms fanned the empty pagoda. "You've got nothing here, either."

"I'll take my chances."

Quaritch's eyes slowly went up to the skylights as he contemplated his options. He rubbed his face, for his patience was running thin. "Okay, Spider, listen here. We can either walk back to my banshee, all dignified-like, or I drag you, kicking and screaming. Now, I'll do that, but I think you've had enough humiliation for one day, so I am giving you the option. You wanna take it?"

In the pause, with his back set to the recombinant, every raw, ugly and negative emotion manifested on Spider's face. The only thing within his power now was to shove his emotions into some recess, fill the pit with dirt, then pack it down with vicious stamps so they could never surface again. He thrust the pathetic token away as he pivoted on his heel and marched directly past Quaritch.

On the horizon was the Tawkami village that welcomed the clans with open arms. They were glad not only for their olo'eyktan's return but to learn the beloved princess was now his betrothed. As instructed, the jars of grain reserves were opened and shared with the travellers, who brought with them offerings of meat, fruit, and vegetables to show they were good guests. This act of exchanging was integral to the union, serving as an acknowledgement that no clan owned the atxkxe (land) where the food grew but instead cultivated it for the purpose of sharing. Together, the three tribes prepared, cooked and served the bounty to each other until the last of the families were situated. A temporary Na'vi-style kibbutz was created, and the three communities were fortified into one soaia (family).

Neteyam stood by his mother as they watched the community. Taking it all in, he said to her, |"Uncle once told me that when a tree is small or weak, the trees next to it share their food so it may grow."| Neytiri focused on her son. |"I stand here and see how we are helping our brother Anurai by sharing what we have. We, Omatikaya, are of the tree not because we used to live in one but because we act like one."| The grateful mother rubbed her son's back.

Meanwhile, Jake was busy setting up his family's tent, ensuring the teepee's cord supports were taught around the poles. "That'll do." He looked around. "Now, where's the mallet? Norm, have you seen—" He stopped and, with an exhale, stared at the peg awaiting to be hammered. The mallet he needed was then handed over his shoulder. Jake looked up in surprise. "Oh! Irayo, ma Sa'nok." He accepted the tool and bent down to finish the task.

|"Are you almost complete?"|

|"I will be soon,"| he grunted, getting up. |"I just need to check things over—see that it's tight."|

|"It looks taught to me. You are done."|

|"No, that side looks a little low…"|

|"You are seeing things. Come, come. I seek to spend time with my son."|

|"But, Mother, I— Whoa!"| Jake dropped the mallet as the dulcet elder whisked him away. He was pulled into taking a pleasant tour of the community with his animated mother-in-law. They strolled past the temporary shelters of lean-tos and overhangs where some Anurai were still sleeping off the exhaustion of their recent ordeal. People were cautious where they stepped so as to not disturb anyone resting, but the children were uninhibited as always. As the stoic adults oversaw life's burdens, the young ones romped wherever they fancied, and in that freedom, it was they and not an olo'eyktan who held true command over the village.

"It's nice seeing all the tail-tuggers are happy."

"The children see it as an adventure," Mo'at mused.

"I guess that makes change a little less scary."

"True. How different a mood is when we see forward and not back. We should take a lesson from these children and let ourselves welcome change."

"Okay, Mother, what are you getting at?"

"Me? Can I not enjoy some time with the mate of my beloved daughter?" she said with mock indignation.

"Look, I am as welcoming of change as the next guy. Don't think I don't understand why we're here. I've accepted the fact that Kiri is going to be…" Jake's voice caught in his throat.

"Mated to Syotxa'."

Jake winced.

"I do not understand why you are so disgusted. A fertile life is a good thing all fathers should want for their children. It is life for Kiri."

"I know." He inhaled, his eyes catching the Tawkami olo'eyktan in the distance, helping to pass around baked grain. "I've talked with Syotxa', and he's— He's perfect. He's kind… He speaks sign… He's an olo'eyktan… There's nothing wrong with the match."

"So, what is the matter?"

"There's nothing wrong with the match," he answered, a tad exasperated.

Mo'at shifted her head.

Jake poked his tongue over his lip as he tried to think how he could explain it. "You remember when you showed me how to weave?"

"Yes?"

"And you told me how the Omatikaya would always purposely leave one little flaw?"

"Yes, but I did not mean for you to demonstrate it so severely upon your piece," she chuckled.

"Yeah, I kinda just gave it over to Neytiri... But you told me I had to make at least one mistake because nothing is perfect except for Eywa."

A delicate simper rose on Mo'at as she began to understand his point. "Mmm... And you are saying Kiri's choice is missing that one imperfection?"

"I guess I am. I mean, you know Neytiri's choice was anything but perfect."

"Oh, yes. Yes, I know," she could not argue, but in good jest. "Your point is…deeply interesting. I have found, over time, that your 'imperfections' have helped me understand many things."

"Really? I didn't know that."

"May I ask, then, who would you want to see for Kiri?"

Jake looked at her, knowing full well the answer, but debated the wisdom in being too open.

"Speak your mind, my son. As a tsahìk, it is my duty to see."

"Okay…" With a sigh, he unveiled his heart. "I'll be honest, a part of me was really hoping that it'd be Spider. When I started thinking about it—about who I'd trust to take care of her—it was easily him. And I know. I know. Neytiri tells me that it's not the 'fruitful' path, but just because we can't see how it'd work doesn't mean it couldn't. I mean, look at me. Neteyam shouldn't even be here. I guess I'm old-school, but, in my head, if there's no challenges, then it's not it."

"But you forbade Spider from seeing Kiri?"

"I had to. He was being reckless with her. I couldn't let him marry Kiri if he stayed like that."

"You would let them marry?"

"Let them? Hell, Mo'at, I would walk her down the aisle to the Tree of Souls. Don't be so shocked. I'm Toruk Makto. I've got immunity—I think…"

Mo'at gave him a shake of her head. "It seems Eywa does not think so. She had Spider taken back to his people."

"Yeah, but…was that Eywa's doing?"

"What do you mean?"

"How much of this is Her will, and how much of it is ours? If you ask me, all this 'maintaining the balance' stuff is just Her making sure we don't tip that boat we keep rocking."

"Then, if this match 'tips' the balance, it will not happen. Trust this matter to Eywa, my son. Like water, things will find their level."

"Yeah, I suppose you're right."

Soggy boots, drooping tail—Lyle left behind a trail of water as he dragged his damp self back to his cabin. Unlike his wussy comrades, who wore ponchos, Lyle took it like a man. Naturally, the boy from the bayou, who had spent most of his life being damp, sweaty and covered in mud, didn't really notice his soiled condition—but his missus did.

"Ly'il?" She set aside her beadwork on the bed. "Nga lu pìwopx (You are a rain cloud)!"

"What?" He strutted inside his home, not heeding the mess he was causing, like always.

"You are leaving water all over."

"It was raining during my mission."

"Oel tse'a (I can see)." She commenced with undressing but could not figure out how to remove the tactical vest, so he had to show her. "Tsahey. You wear too many clothes."

"Sorry, little lady." He smirked, trying not to be aroused.

"Na'vi let rain roll off skin. Wear a lot—carry all rain," she lectured. When she finally removed the last layer, she tossed it outside.

"No, no— Säro, you have to—" Lyle went to go fetch the item off his porch. "You have to use the hamper there."

"'ampeh," she repeated, a bit flustered.

"Yeah, it's protocol. Once it's filled, we have to take it to the wash house. Don't worry. I'll show you how to do that."

"So many ways for you."

"That's military. Everything's gotta be done a certain way." As Lyle gathered all his wet clothes, he saw his other uniform hanging off an odd setup that looked to be made out of bent metal bars. "What's that?"

"Snokfyan. For you an' clothes."

"S***! No-no-no…" Lyle rushed to rescue his next day's uniform, scanning it to make sure it didn't develop any creases from the harsh setup. "Agh! Säro, you need to use the shelves, Baby."

She stood in place feeling even more stressed.

"Agh… Umm…" He rubbed his neck in worry, then inspected the rack more closely. "Wait… what did you make this out of?"

"From what held up bed. We do not need."

Lyle looked over and noticed his mattress flat on the floor and let out a squeal that Säro didn't know he was capable of, but the young bride knew it could only mean one thing: she had erred once again.

As Lyle pointlessly raised the mattress to confirm, 'Yes, the frame was utterly destroyed,' the sniper detected faint noises. "Hey, hey, hey, don't cry… C'mon…" He got up and moved to place his arms around her. "What are you bawling for?"

"We are having a baby! I only wanting to make this a home!"

The man stood before his hysterical mate and suspected this was stemming from more than just a few blunders; it was all the recent trauma coming out at once.

"Kelku."

She wiped her face and gave him a curious look.

"We need to make this place our kelku," he said, remembering the word for "home."

She sniffed. "Kelku…"

"We can"—he looked at his ruined bed—"do without the bed frame—gonna have to—and we can keep the, uh…" He stared at the rack behind him. "Did you bend those bars by hand?"

"Sran?"

He gulped. "You're, uh… pretty strong. Uh… We can keep using it but not for my uniform, okay? I have to fold that. Don't worry, I can do it."

She met his loving eyes and then nodded delicately—her gesture only being weak due to the recent stress, for the compromise, she thought, was beautiful of him. "I will use 'ampeh."

"And I will use… What do you call it?"

"Snokfyan."

"I'll use the snotfan."

Seeing that she needed rest, he sat her down on the mattress and was about to do the same when she flailed. "Kehe-he-he! Nga—"

The husband hovered his butt in wait as she rescued her project. "What's that?" he asked after being permitted to sit.

"Prrnen 'ali'ä," She held it up to show the form of a miniature red circle.

"Oh, is that for—"

"Mmm-hmm."

Lyle gently cradled the tiny item, making sure he did not undo the delicate beadwork. He took in the incredible detail of a herd of unguldells galloping around the centre ring. "Holy cow. It's really good." Bursts of air came out as happy laughs. "The baby's gonna look real cute in this."

"Baby needs name."

"Oh man, you're right. You got one in mind?"

She shook her head. "You have one?"

"Well, uh, how do… How do Na'vi usually name their kids?"

"Most time, we mix names of family. Like parents."

"So, a mix of our names?" Lyle tested it out to see. "Sa...yle."

"'Se'ayl'?" she asked curiously.

"Is that a name?"

"Is waterfalls from Ayram Alusìng. Mountain in air."

"Hey, I've seen those!—they're beautiful. Okay, if it's a girl, we name her 'Se'ayl.'"

Her pearly whites sparkled in a giggle. "Sran. 'Se'ayl' not common where I am. Baby between Na'vi an' rekom also not common. 'Se'ayl' is perfect."

"Glad you think so. So, if it's a boy?"

"Li..." she sounded out.

"Rroo," he finished.

"'Li'ro'?"

"'Li'ro'? Dang. Pretty cute. Okay, why not? Kinda sounds like 'Leroy.'"

"'Liroì'?"

"That's a name back where I come from."

She shuffled closer to him. "Meaning?"

"What does it mean?" He snorted. "Beats me."

"'Liroì'?" she said, rolling the 'R.' "I like name."

He was surprised. "'Leroy'?" After a few blinks, he thought about it more. "Lyle and Leroy… Säro and Se'ayl. Oh, that's settles it. We gotta make two now."

"Ly'il, first one is not hasey (done)."

"Well, get on it, Babe. We gotta a whole family to make." He put his arms around her laughing self and brought her into a lying position. His gentle person pressed beside her in a lock of tenderness. Säro relaxed knowing that no matter the consequences, no matter the outcome, for this one moment, it was worth the perdition.

Denied Pandora, she received grace to enter another heaven; it was one universal and bore a humble name: love.