Author's Note: Sorry about this one.
Grace is very nice. Tsyeyk very much likes her. When she woke him up, it was by gently rubbing at his back and running her fingers through his now dry hair. He couldn't stop purring hard in his chest at the feeling. It was so nice. If he asks mommy really nicely when he sees her again, maybe she'll do it for him too. Hopefully he'll remember by the time he sees her. So, hopefully soon.
"It's only been about an hour and a half," Grace tells him.
"I don't know," Tsyeyk tells her, squinting in the dim light towards her. He doesn't understand what her words mean. But it's dark now, dark enough that the little lights on Grace's body are all lit up and bright. He's never been able to see someone else's pattern outside of his own and Mommy's. And Grace's is very different.
Grace smiles at him and it makes his heart pound in his chest. He doesn't know what he did to earn it, but he'll try to figure it out so that he can get more of them.
"It's okay." Grace sits down next to him, crossing her legs. Tsyeyk pulls up from his pile of blankets and scooting closer to her, being careful of his tender wrist, but he just wants to be closer to her, and she doesn't deny him. This is the most that anyone has ever spoken to him. Even mommy only did it in short bouts. He liked listening to Grace talk, her voice was so nice. "It just means that you haven't been asleep for very long. I want to make sure that you sleep comfortably throughout the night."
"Okay..." Tsyeyk says slowly. He's not sure that he understands that either, but he's scared to admit it again lest he disappoint her. Carefully, he asks, "Then go home after to sleep again?"
Grace tucks a strand of hair behind his ear, and he leans into the touch. She smiles softer still and says, "Well, we've been talking and were wondering..." she shifts closer, placing her hands on his knees. "Did you want to stay here for a little bit? We got plenty of food and water to share and I would love to help you out in any way I can."
Tsyeyk blinks, twisting his head at that. She wanted to help him? She wanted to share food and water with him? Really? And he didn't even have to ask? He's not sure who "we" is, but they want to help him? It didn't make any sense. What did he do to earn this? Surely it had to of been something that he's not thinking of. But wrack his mind as he might, nothing is coming to him. He can't think of what it is that he could have done to get "we" to want to be so nice to him.
As much as he wanted to just leap on the chance to get that kindness so freely offered before Grace realizes her mistake and takes it back, but he has to know. "Mommy too?" She could come for him in the morning, and he doesn't want to miss her. He hopes that Grace will come with him back home and then they could all be together with Mommy. That the nice things that Grace was willing to share with him would also be shared with Mommy too. Just to make things easier for her, as many times she seems like she's sad whenever Tsyeyk sees her. Maybe it's because Tsyeyk is hard to take care of. This would help her, wouldn't it? Then they could all be together, too. That would be the best.
Grace hesitates for a split second and Tsyeyk starts to panic, terrified that he messed everything up, but sensing this, she stops him, cupping his cheeks in gentle hands. "Yes," she says and Tsyeyk's panicked little gasps of air settle down. "If we can find your mommy, we can share with her too."
Tsyeyk perks up, eyes brightening as he nods. He points to one of the openings high up above him against the surface blocking him in, hoping that it led outside. "Go? With to Mommy?"
Grace shakes her head. "In the morning, okay? Beasts travel at night. It's dangerous," she tells him.
Tsyeyk nods quickly, yes. He forgot for a second there. Mommy always told him to not go out while it's dark out. Hopefully Grace won't tell mommy that he was silly enough to have forgotten. She's really nice so he hopes that she won't say anything until he can explain to her why he goofed.
"Does it still hurt?"
Tsyeyk glances over at Grace, and she points to his wrist. He holds it up to see the swelling is already going down. He twists it a bit and it's stiff and hurts a bit if he pushes it too far, so he shrugs. Grace smiles softly before grabbing out a strange, hard pouch from the bag next to her and removes the top, then turns the larger section, pouring a strange yellowish liquid with chunks of something into the smaller top. A strong scent reaches his little nose and his stomach growls interpreting the strange smell as food. His mouth waters almost immediately. Tsyeyk watches as smoke comes off the top, making his ears twitch.
"Hot?" He asks her, perplexed on how the liquid would have smoke coming off of it. On the rare occasion that mommy would catch a beast and build a fire in order to make it able for them to eat she never usually used liquid that smoked, just the meat. He remembers the smoke coming from it when he took a bite too soon, hurting his tongue really bad but he managed to stop from crying despite how badly he wanted to, and his mommy had said that same word to him from where her eyes scanned the forest around them, keeping watch for predators.
"Hot."
Grace nods, pulling his mind into focus once more, offering the little top to him to carefully take. The smaller top is actually cool to the touch despite the smoke still coming from it. "Careful," she says softly, bringing it up to his lips. Despite knowing it would hurt, he was ready to eat - or drink? - it if it would make Gace happy. But she holds it from his lips and softly blows on it. "You have to blow to cool it down a bit."
Tsyeyk's ears perk and he tries it, giving the small top a little blow, watching as the smoke flutters around.
"This?" He asks her, wondering why Mommy didn't show him this before. Maybe she didn't know. Or she tried to, and he wasn't paying attention.
Grace nods. "Blow a few more times and then take a small sip until it's not too hot." He does. He blows a few more times before sipping slightly, the taste strong and distinct on his tongue. He's never had anything like it before. There were small chunks of stuff for him to chew on, but it was mostly warm water with a very good flavor.
"Soup," Grace calls it and Tsyeyk keeps quietly repeating it to try to commit it to memory. Maybe he can ask mommy to make some for him, or show him how, when she comes back. Maybe in the morning!
He sips and chews his way through the first little top part, then Grace pours him more and he carefully makes his way through that one. While he's drinking, purring hard at the warmth that washes through him, Grace looks at his wrist. When she twists it in a way that hurts him, he whimpers as she kisses it, apologizing softly to him. And he forgives her right away because Grace is so kind. Mommy is going to love Grace.
After the second, smaller cup, Tsyeyk can't eat anymore. He gives the cup back to Grace and yawns, now full, warm and tired.
Grace moves so that she can lean again her back against the thing that she had put him on earlier to sleep, bringing the sack she had beside her with her. She closes up the soup and then digs around inside. Tsyeyk glances up, through the dim light toward the large panel of light. There is a lone figure, so far away, so small, standing as a dark shadow against the light, staring down at them. Tsyeyk's ears press back in fear as he stares, wondering what that was. He could almost convince himself that it was a Na'vi, but there is just something fundamentally wrong with its shape.
"There? Scary." He points with a little figure so that she can tell what he's looking at.
Grace looks up, following his eyes before patting her lap, drawing his eyes to her. "Sky People," Grace says.
Tsyeyk tilts his head, never having heard this before. "Sky...?"
"Person from the sky," Grace says, gently grabbing him by the hips and pulling him onto her lap. He immediately curls into her, enjoying the warmth and safety. He glances nervously up at the lone figure staring down at him, ears twitching when he sees a second one standing with him.
"Scary..." he says again.
Tsyeyk curls into her more. Grace looks up at them for a long moment, a complex expression crossing over her face. She considers for a long moment before holding him closer.
"They won't hurt you, Tsyeyk," Grace says softly. "You're special. To me. To them. We won't hurt you."
"Special?" he echoes, this word unfamiliar to him. "Why this?"
Grace presses a soft kiss into his hair, and he loves the feeling, sinking into her more, hoping that she would never stop.
"There are two types of people. Na'vi and avatars. Na'vi are born here on this world, are part of the people, are The People," Grace says softly, but Tsyeyk frowns, not understanding. "And then there are avatars. Sky People that have two bodies. One like the people up there," he gestures up towards the two figures staring down at them, "and one like me."
Tsyeyk, with his head tucked into her shoulder, glances up at him, curiously. "Two? Tsyeyk like two?"
"Your mommy is a Na'vi, Tsyeyk," Grace says, "and I am an Avatar." Tsyeyk doesn't understand, but Grace says, "And Tsyeyk is special. Tsyeyk was born from a Na'vi and an avatar. Your mommy is Na'vi, and your daddy is... is an avatar."
Tsyeyk doesn't understand what she's saying, but there is something that has his attention. Daddy? What is that? Tsyeyk definitely knows what a 'your mommy' is. But he's never heard of a 'your daddy' before. Tsyeyk's not sure what that is, but he's never known that he had one. Had mommy not brought it to him yet? When was she going to do that? When he proved himself?
"Daddy?" Tsyeyk echoes. "Tsyeyk your daddy?"
Grace glances down at him, curiously. She hums softly, running a hand up and down his arm. The action is comforting. Tsyeyk loves this feeling. He hopes that he can replicate whatever he did to deserve it.
"Everyone has a daddy," Grace says softly. "Everyone needs a mommy and a daddy to make a baby. Your mommy and your daddy made you."
Tsyeyk lifts his head from her shoulder to look at him, blinking big blue eyes. "Tsyeyk... is baby? Tsyeyk Mommy. Tsyeyk Daddy. Make Tsyeyk baby?"
Grace blinks, staring down at him curiously. "You're a very smart little boy," she says, smiling. Tsyeyk's ears twitch. Mommy has never called him that before. Her smile is kind as she says it, so hopefully it's a good thing. Hopefully he's making her proud of him. If he can keep her proud of him, then she'll want to keep him around longer.
He wants to go home to mommy, so that they could be together with Grace. Grace and the nice people who helped him.
"Where is them? Nice for Tsyeyk?" Tsyeyk asks around a yawn.
Grace presses a soft kiss to his forehead. "The men and women from earlier are around. But they are in their Sky People bodies."
Tsyeyk frowns at her. "Body? Sky People body?"
Grace nods. "Yes, Sky People have two bodies. One that looks like this," she gestures to herself, "and one that looks like that," she says, pointing up to the figures standing, watching them.
Tsyeyk tries to wrap his brain around that. Two bodies? But how is that possible?
"I'll explain more tomorrow," Grace says, pulling him to her chest and rubbing at his back. He melts into her embrace, resting his cheek on her shoulder, eyes drooping closed at the tingling sensation up and down his spine. If she said she would explain it, Tsyeyk was willing to believe that she will.
Tsyeyk woke up in his pile of soft blankets, rubbing at his face. Warm and content. These blankets are so much more comfortable and softer than the ones that he and mommy own. He almost doesn't want to leave them, but he knows he should. His tummy is already aching for more food. He rolls onto side, from where his little face was buried in the blankets, to look blearily around the room. A strange female is sitting on the thing Grace wanted him to sleep on, a few feet away. Tsyeyk tenses at the sight of the strange creature, panic building up in his throat when she waves her hand from her forehead to him in greeting.
He hesitates, eyes wide.
"Hello, Tsyeyk," she says, and her voice is familiar. She smiles and that's familiar too.
He moves closer to her, blue eyes like saucers as he stops by her knees. She's bigger than him, but... not by as much anymore. Her face, though, so different and yet... so similar.
"Grace..?" He whispers, seeing her in this strange face.
She smiles more. "You're such a smart little boy," she says.
Tsyeyk's tail sways. She makes it sound like a good thing. He hopes that it is. He reaches out to touch her skin. It's so pale. Her hair is more like a flower, and so much shorter. And her eyes are so much darker. But something about her face... something he can't explain, is so familiar. It looks like Grace.
"Sky Person," Grace says, gesturing to herself. Then, she points across to the other thing, like the one that she's sitting on but on the other side of the room. "Avatar." And there was Grace, sleeping peacefully.
Tsyeyk rushes over to the other Grace, jumping over her, sitting on her stomach and tilting his head. "Grace?" He calls, touching her cheek. Nothing. No response. His thick lashes flutter as he looks over at Sky Person Grace. She smiles, walking over to him.
"Sorry, Beautiful, I can only be in one body at a time."
Tsyeyk's ears fold a bit as he tilts his head. She can only control one body at a time? That's crazy! How does she do that? Does Tsyeyk have two bodies too? How does he get to use his other one?
"This, Grace? How this?" Tsyeyk asks, tilting his head. He climbs off of her, turning to... smaller her. He reaches up to touch the strange thing in front of her face, eyes wide and tail twirling at how smooth it is. "How this? And this be is, Grace?"
Grace laughs, taking his hand. "I need this to breath, Tsyeyk. Sky People can't breathe the same air as Na'vi."
"Breathe...?" He echoes.
Grace smiles, holding out her hand to him. Tsyeyk's ears flick and he reaches out to take it. He steps up next to her and while she smiles at him, there is something distinctively strained about it.
"Yes, as we are two separate species, we need two different types of air to breathe," she says, then laughs. "This might be a little too complex for your, sweetheart." Tsyeyk likes it when she laughs, Mommy hardly ever did it.
Grace's hand, though, while larger than Tsyeyk's, isn't so much larger, like her other form. Even this Grace, the smaller Sky Person Grace, is bigger than him, just not by as much anymore. And she's softer. Tsyeyk likes to hold her hand, this body is a lot closer to his size. Before he was so small next to her, she could cradle him in her arms like a little baby, at below hip height. Now he's about two heads shorter than her.
She leads him into the place, "building" she called it, and while there, he had to wear a mask over his face so that he could breathe because the air here was for Sky People and he couldn't breathe it as long. It was not like the one that Grace wears, as hers covers her entire face, his just covered his mouth and nose. A little pack is put on something that slings over his shoulder. She tells him not to take either off for more than a few minutes.
He nods, hoping that she'll tell him every time a few minutes happens. For now, he'll just keep it on.
It's early morning, she tells him. They'll go to see his mommy in a few hours. They just want to check him to make sure he's okay and get some food in him. While he's eating something soft and fluffy that she called a "pancake" she's doing other things so that she can be with him all day and not worry about anything else. It's so nice of her to want to spend all day with him. He missed when Mommy used to do that.
For now, he focuses on his food. He tears it apart with his hands, eating excitedly. He's never had anything like it, but he loved it. It fell apart so easily but he didn't care. He was happy to pick up the little stuffing pieces and tossing them into his mouth, greedily. Another Sky Person, decidedly male, brought something in a container called "syrup" and asked if he wanted any. He didn't know what that was, but Grace said "no."
He probably didn't want it anyway and Grace was just helping him.
While he's eating on the floor next to Grace, not liking the "chair" she wanted him to sit at, she works. She laid out a blanket for him to sit on while he eats because the floors were cleaned with something that she didn't want to risk him ingesting. She keeps turning to look down at him, smiling and saying, "Sip," whenever she wanted him to breathe through the mask. He was happy that she was keeping track because he couldn't figure out how many minutes was.
She would touch him too. She pokes and prods at him. She sticks him with things and even when it hurts, he tries hard not to cry and even when a few watery tears turn some of his pancakes to mush, she'll hug and kiss his forehead telling him that he's "a very brave little boy". And he is. He's very brave. She keeps looking at the owie on his leg that smelled funny, now a strange color against his skin. She doesn't seem too worried, but she does poke him with something that hurts him near it before giving him another kiss to his hair.
"Bowt redee to hed owt, doc?"
Tsyeyk glances up to see one of the males from the day before. The one that carried him to the beast that brought him to Grace. Tsyeyk's tail twirls at the sight of him and another male standing next to him, both wearing breathing masks like him.
The shorter of the two males, the one that didn't hold him, or speak with Grace, leans down onto his hunches, offering a loose grin to him. Tsyeyk perks at the smile, glancing to see if it was directed at him or someone else, but his stomach leaps in joy at seeing it was directed at him. Everyone has been smiling at him lately! What did he do to deserve this? How does he get it to keep happening?
"Hay budee," he says.
Tsyeyk waves his hand from his forehead to the male, hoping that he does it right. The male blinks, glances at Grace, who says something in a droll voice to which he rolls his eyes and returns the gesture to him. Tsyeyk giggles, squeezing the life out of his pancake. He offers the shredded bits of his pancake to him.
"Want to eat too?"
The male twists his head, glancing up at Grace. "Wut dihd he saee?"
Grace gives him another look while the other male crosses his arms and stares down at them, golden eyes studying Tsyeyk. Grace turns in her chair to look at them. "He ashked if yoo wahnted too shair."
The male's ears twitch as he looks back over at him, a smile pulling harder on one corner of his mouth than the other. "Nah budee, yoo eet ur pancakes."
"It's for you, Tsyeyk," Grace says, smiling softly. "You don't have to share with anyone."
Tsyeyk nods slowly, never sharing with anyone other than mommy before. Guess he didn't want to share with him.
Tsyeyk's shoulders slump as he looks down at the mashed pancakes in his hands. They are very delicate and easily broken just by him grabbing hold of them. It's both very strange, and good, as it makes them easy to eat. He takes a few bites of the shredded pieces of his pancakes slowly, ears drooping. The male reaches out and gently pats the top of his head, Tsyeyk perks a bit, smiling around a mouthful, chewing slowly.
The male carefully pushes Tsyeyk's hair from his face before putting his hand to his chest. "Ii'em Lyle Wainfleet." He hesitates, then says, "Lyle."
Tsyeyk tilts his head. He places a sticky hand to his chest, "Tsyeyk." His ears perk, hoping he was right.
The male, Lyle, smiles. "Hiee Tsyeyk."
Tsyeyk's tail sways hard behind him as he grins toothily at the male. "Wyle? Wyle?" He waves his hand a bit, pieces of pancake flying around them.
Lyle smiles more and it makes Tsyeyk giggle. He gasps between his giggles, coughing weakly. He remembers in time for Grace to say, "Sip, sweetheart." He pulls the mask up to his mouth and breathes in a few times, feeling his light head start to clear up once more.
Tsyeyk points at Lyle. "Wyle." Then to himself. "Tsyeyk." Then to Grace. "Grace." Then he looks over at the other male, ears flicking, realizing he doesn't know who that is. He points at the male and asks Grace, "Who's name?"
Grace hesitates, looking at him. "Hez asking wut tu kal yoo."
The male stares down at him, lips pressing together tightly, before he kneels down next to Lyle. A moment of hesitation, indecision flashes across his face before it evens out and he reaches out to carefully push Tsyeyk's hair out of his face. Some of the strands stick to his cheeks but the male doesn't seem to mind. He gathers as much as he can, tucking what strands that he could behind Tsyeyk's ears. It's so strange, he's so used to having his hair in his face, keeping it warm - sometimes too warm - so the fact that there isn't any hair blocking his vision is still unfamiliar to him.
"Yoo downt luk liek hr." Tsyeyk tilts his head at that, wondering which one was his name. "Yoo downt luk liek mii, eether." Tsyeyk blinks, watching the male stare into his eyes. "Yoo luk liek mii muthr." He sighs, a thumb running against his cheek and it's so soft, so delicate. Only Mommy and Grace and the nice female has ever touched him like that. Well... maybe not mommy. He wasn't good enough for Mommy. He still had to prove himself to her, but the nice female and Grace were this soft to him.
But he's never had a male be so gentle with him. It was so nice. He's not sure what he did to earn this, but he's happy that he did.
He doesn't know what the male's name is, though. It's not as clear as it was with Lyle.
Tsyeyk gently reaches out to touch the male's face. There is something about him that just seems so... sad. Tsyeyk's not sure what it is. Maybe it's because of the same look on his face that Mommy had on hers. He knows that look, and whenever he sees it, he knows what it means. He asked her once, after trying to figure out for a long time what that look meant but couldn't, so he asked, half expecting her not to answer. But she did.
"I'm sad, Tsyeyk," his mommy said softly, looking away from him.
This male looks to be the same. He also has that look on his face that mommy did. A look that he actually knows the name to. Like they were both incredibly sad about something. But Mommy wouldn't tell him why, other than staring back at him, then away, so he wasn't sure if the male was going to tell him either.
The male looks at him, staring into his eyes before gently touching the hand Tsyeyk has on his face, the male's eyes burning with this sadness that Tsyeyk doesn't understand. But he swallows it up, pulling away from the little boy to stand, not seeming to mind the bits of crumbs that he left on the male's cheek and the strange hard top that he's wearing. He turns, as if to leave, but then he stops, looking down at Tsyeyk, that complex look still there, then his eyes lower more to something else. Tsyeyk follows his eyes to look at the knife that his mommy gave him.
Tsyeyk tilts his head, placing his hand over it, wondering if the male wanted to take it from him. He pouts and surprisingly the complex look on the male's face clears up a bit as he says, "Ur cute, kihdo." Then he turns, face falling neutral, and walking off. Lyle moves to his feet with a groan and follows, after petting the top of Tsyeyk's head, messing up his already messy hair.
Grace stands up, gesturing to his mess, sending a quick glance after the two males before turning her full attention to him. "Are you done eating, sweetheart? Are you ready to go?"
"See Mommy?" He gasps, jumping to his feet. He's so excited! What if, finally, she's there waiting for him? Then he can show her to these really nice people! The she could come with him here and they could be with Grace and Lyle and all the nice people. They could all be together!
Grace's smile in thin, but she nods, holding out her hand for him to take. He does, following her to get cleaned up.
Quaritch is conflicted.
He feels for the little boy. His heart aches for him, his hands want to reach out for him, but something stops him. This tension in him that he can't stop. He knows what it is, the word that floats around in his mind, but he refused to acknowledge it. He refuses to acknowledge them. His team, Grace. Any time his eyes meet theirs', it's with cool indifference. He knows that they are all staring at him, as if waiting for him to blow up. Like somehow, he's just going to fall apart at the slightest inconvenience. Like he's going to freak out on the boy for no reason.
So, he ignores them. Their looks, their whispers, the way that they shift close to either guard him, or the boy. Like the boy could hurt him. Impossible.
Lyle meant it, it seems. The boy was one of them, no questions asked. And Quaritch's team took to him easily. And while he won't say it out loud - whether it's because of pride or something else - he's glad that they are. That they are doing what he would want them to but can't bring himself to. Not yet. Not now. Not while it feels like he's picking at a festering wound, something he thought that he had healed from, but it turns out he hadn't. He needs more time, and he hopes that just by exposing himself to the little boy, it will make it all easier.
And in a way, it already has.
Tsyeyk looks so much like Quaritch's mom.
The distinct cupid's bow that they shared - although his lips are much fuller as a Na'vi's typically is, even at this age. His nose, while mostly flat, is skinnier and has a telling arch at the tip, turning it up like his mom's used to. Lashes that seemed endless, those were both like his mom, and his brother. Both long and full and dark as night. His smile, like her own, and while she had a single set of pronounced canines and had taken such good care of her teeth that they still remained mostly intact at her age, Tsyeyk has two sets. A larger and a slightly smaller set. They are a little wonky as one canine on the left side is obviously an adult tooth a part of the way grown in while the one on the right is not. His hair too, cut like that, not weighed down by the knot, settles around his face and shoulders like a lion's mane. While his mother's hair was a medium brown and Tsyeyk's is pitch black, they were still curled the same, wild and messy but so achingly similar in style and length - completely unintentional - that it hurt his heart to see it.
And those eyes. One of the only things that Quaritch himself inherited from his mother. He looked and was built so much like his piece-of-shit daddy in just about every other way - except for the blue eyes he got from his mother.
His mother was taken from him too soon. He loved her so much, he always imagined telling her about when he was going to be a daddy, how proud she would be, how much she would love his kids, but it didn't turn out that way. Instead, at twenty-one years old, he had to hold her hand as she withered away in the hospital, having been granted leave from the military for a time to say his last goodbyes. His brother, his sweet, baby brother no more than seven, sobbing hoarsely in the seat next to him.
"I'm sorry to inform you, Colonel, but your cheques can no longer go to the account of your specifications," the email said. "By the time this message reaches you, your brother, Jacob Logan Quaritch, will have been deceased for approximately three years and seven months. I am sorry for your loss."
Quaritch jerks out of his thoughts, ignoring Prager's glance over at him. His eyes turn back to Tsyeyk, standing on the ship, by one of the windows, looking down at the ground below. Lyle has a hand wrapped tightly around the little boy's protruding ribs, holding him upright. Tsyeyk is trembling so badly in terror, yet he doesn't move from the window, staring out with big blue eyes.
That little boy, tough as nails, wanted to watch out the window, hoping that he would see... her.
Sa'nu, Sa'nu, Sa'nu. He kept saying it, and it kept eliciting this boiling hot rage in him. Not at the boy, but at her. Could she not see what she's done? Did she even care? Was she out there? Was she eaten by animals or strung up by some Na'vi clan? Was she at home, pretending that she hadn't left her own child alone in the forest to die? Was she proud of herself? Did it at least keep her up at night?
Because it kept him up at night.
One thing, that's all they needed, one thing to have been different and there was a very real possibility that Tsyeyk would have died out there in the forest. Alone. Best case scenario is that he was eaten, quickly. He never knew what hit him. Worst case scenario, he was taken by one of the clans, tortured, then killed. And even worse, in Quaritch's opinion, is dying in slow motion, like he was. An infection growing in his body, losing his strength from hunger and dehydration. Sickness and fatigue wearing him down more and more, until all he can do is sleep, wake exhausted, sleep some more, and drift.
If that's the case, Quaritch would pray that he wouldn't be able to understand what was happening. That he would just have good dreams.
But the reality is, he doesn't want to think about it because it's so horrible to him. For almost six years, he'd had a son. And every day, for almost six years, his son could have died, and he would never have known. His son was treated so cruelly that it makes the back of his throat burn and his chest ache in rage.
And yet, still that little boy holds himself up on his tippy toes, while balancing on Lyle's boots, looking out the window for the mother that abandoned him. So eager to see her that despite being so afraid, he was willing to look out the window of their aircraft just to get a glimpse of her sooner.
His disgust and anger towards her burns him. His chest, his head. He hates her so much, he can barely breathe. And watching that little boy tremble, his tail rigid in terror, as he quietly keeps calling out to her, like she could hear him even if she had been on the other side of the window, burns him more.
Lyle keeps trying to coax him to sit down, but he doesn't want to. He just points a tiny little finger out the window and calls out to her again, big blue eyes wide in fear, but he doesn't turn away. He wants to see her.
And she left him to die. This little boy who is starved for her, and she left him. On principal, he wouldn't be upset if she had been coming back for him and was eaten by a wild animal or captured by an opposing clan and she died, but at least she had the intention of coming back. If she had just left him...
He can't. He can't think more about this, he's just making himself more and more mad.
Tsyeyk managed to make it through the flight, leaning against Lyle and pointing out the window, saying things in Na'vi that only Grace understood, but most of was just asking if Lyle was looking where he was. Once they make it to the forest, Quaritch and his men, along with Grace, backtrack through the forest, to Tsyeyk's little home. It took them a good thirty minutes to make their way through the thick forest before Tsyeyk seemed to finally recognize where he was and started leading the way. Quaritch and his men held their guns to them, heads on a swivel, well acquainted with the notation that they weren't the biggest, strongest, or meanest things this forest had to offer.
How Tsyeyk managed to survive on his own, Quaritch will never know.
Once they got close, Tsyeyk started excitedly calling out to his mom, picking up speed as he makes his way back. Those big, beautiful blue eyes, scanning his surroundings for her. His eyes bright, smile near splitting as he pulled Grace along after she insisted that he hold her hand. He kept sputtering something excitedly back at Grace, then looked around, trying to keep his eyes out for his mom as they head back to his home.
Quaritch had a moment of contemplation where he wondered what he would do if she had been waiting there. If they crested a hill or stepped off a path or simply shouldered through some foliage and he was brought face-to-face with her. His gut churned at the thought, but in reality, he knew. He wanted her dead, almost wished for it, but he knew he wasn't going to lay a hand on her. If she fought him, that one thing, that's self-defense. But if she was just standing there... he knows he couldn't hurt her. His daddy was a piece of shit and didn't care if Quaritch knew it, but... he didn't want that for Tsyeyk. He always told himself that he would be better than his daddy.
What kind of man puts his hands on the mother of his child?
Tsyeyk loves her. It burns him to his core, but Tsyeyk does. And Quaritch holds no animosity for his son. He just... needs time to come to terms with his love for the kid. Tsyeyk's is his, there is no question in his mind. He wants the boy in his life. He wants to raise him. Wants to love him. Wants to be everything for him that his daddy couldn't be for him. Wants to be for him everything his mother was to him.
But it's too much. It's too fast. He needs more time to just... observe. To organize his thoughts, his feelings. He couldn't give the boy his name, not Miles. Because he didn't want to be Miles to Tsyeyk.
He wanted to be daddy. He just needed time for that... to not scare him anymore.
Tsyeyk proved that he could love a piece-of-shit parent. Maybe he could love two?
Quaritch isn't a nice man, and most might even say he isn't a good man either, but he knew that he wouldn't ever leave his kid. Now that he knows, he's going to take care of Tsyeyk, love him and treat him as he should. He took care of his own, always, and this boy was more than one of his. This boy is his. Half of that boy is made from his blood. From his flesh and blood and bones. Half of him was Quaritch.
And that beautiful little boy looked so much like the grandmother he would never meet.
Thinking about him, and her, made his chest ache, but something in his broke when they made it to Tsyeyk's home. They crossed over that little river, this time Tsyeyk didn't fall over with Grace holding his hand, but then he stopped once his little home came into view.
And Tsyeyk's reaction was immediate. "Sa'nu..." He says softly, all joy leeched from his voice as he looks around the space between the trees and the rocks he made his home, to see all of his worldly possessions strewn about. Cloth torn. Baskets in shreds. Any supplies inside littered the ground. There wasn't a lot, mostly meager things, but they had been his. And it had all been the final things his mother had left for him.
Zhang lowered down, looking at the items strewn about, then the dirt, before looking over at Quaritch and saying, "Viperwolves."
"They must have come looking for food," Masnk says slowly, eyeing the little boy who could have been there last night had they not taken him with them when they left. As if breathing life into Quaritch's fear.
His lips press tightly together, hands gripping his rifle tighter to him as Tsyeyk sank to his knees, looking around in disbelief. Those tiny, narrow shoulders pull up, then droop down. His tail unfurrows, laying behind him as if all strength had left his body as he just... takes it all in.
Walker looks away from the whole scene as if it was too heart-breaking to see, while Lyle wanders around, looking for things that could be salvaged.
"It's been a while," Zhang says, looking back over at him. "These tracks are old."
Quaritch nods, feeling the muscles in his face loose, yet his eyes keep darting down to Tsyeyk. How Grace gently pets his back, whispering softly to him, but he doesn't seem to hear her. He's just... looking around, trying to make sense of what happened.
And despite his impassive expression, Quaritch aches for his son. This place might have been unsuitable for him, but it had been his. His home full of his things, and the last vestiges of his mother. Despite the fact that he still thinks his mother is coming back, if she doesn't... Tsyeyk might want these things and yet... now they're destroyed. And he's too young to have to go through that. To wrap his mind around what has just happened to him. Just a minute ago he had been so happy, nearly busting with joy, and yet now he was silent.
More and more his mind seems to be piecing together what's happened. And instead of just being sad or upset. Now he just looked... devastated. But it's a chilling feeling. Almost resolute. Like he can't be upset about it because he deserved it. And then suddenly, he wasn't nearly six years old, he was ageless. He was sad, beaten down and defeated.
He heaves a big breath before his shoulders droop. He pulls from Grace and moves to stand once more. He grabs what once probably was a basket at one time but is now more of a giant scoop with part of a handle, and just... starts picking up the tattered remains of his life without complaint. He makes his way through the mess, just grabbing everything to put it back, even though most of it is unsalvageable. He doesn't look at Grace, Quaritch, or his team, just walks around, letting them drop what they're holding into his basket before he moves on, not uttering a word.
He looked like a little boy who was just... exhausted. Like all the energy, the life, had just been sucked right out of him. And not for the first time.