ratherastory (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
ratherastory) wrote2011-07-11 03:59 pm
ratherastory) wrote2011-07-11 03:59 pm
Entry tags:
Epilogue —Rebirth
[Master Post]
Part IVb
Epilogue —Rebirth
Jensen spends most of the next few days drifting in and out of consciousness, aided in no small part by the massive doses of painkillers that Max administers to him with Norm's blessing. Jensen mutters darkly about traitors but can't keep his eyes open long enough to see the worried looks on their faces. Norm isn't in great shape himself, badly shaken from having his avatar killed while he was still linked to it, but he's soldiering gamely on, clinging to sanity like a lifeline. Jensen was too panicked, trying to get to the emergency re-breather mask, to see what happened to Norm, but he found out later that the avatar had died long before Quaritch and Jensen had ever come near the outpost, catapulting Norm back to his human body and leaving him to crawl, barely lucid enough to grab one of the spare exopacks, back to the relative safety of the Omaticaya.
He's being sent back to Earth, along with every single other human left alive on Pandora, Trudy and Max included, as well as the remaining avatar drivers –who'd been locked up the minute there was any sign of real trouble, lest their loyalties prove to be with Jensen and the Na'vi. . Selfridge, who somehow managed to escape with his life if not his dignity, has made it clear that the Pandora project is a write-off as far as he's concerned. Two transports are heading back to Earth, one with most of the military personnel, the other with the civilians –a safeguard put in place to make sure Trudy, Max and Norm don't find themselves on the wrong end of someone's gun or knife on the voyage back. Not that they really expect trouble, but Jensen would rather not take chances with that.
With the humans gone, there will be no one left to man the equipment here, whatever is left when it's all dismantled and shipped back to Earth along with the people. It quickly becomes apparent that the relays have been sabotaged, no doubt Quaritch's work, which makes it impossible to send word through the relays or to get anything back, for that matter. There has been complete radio silence for weeks, with no way of telling what awaits them back home until the transports physically reach the first working relay station several dozen light years away.
Against all of Max's instructions, Jensen spends what time he's awake and conscious linked up to his avatar, coordinating the evacuation. His own decision has been made, although it was harder than he ever thought it would be. In a way, it feels like choosing between two different kinds of death, rather than between life and death. He wonders if Grace felt the same way, when she underwent the process. He can't go back, though, he knows this. Even if he survived the voyage back, which is unlikely according to Max —something about the strain of being put into cry and then taken out again being too much for his system to take after everything that's happened— there's more to tie him here than there is to link him back to the planet he once thought would be his only home.
Everything in his life before he came here was done for his family, to make sure they were taken care of. Put Tommy through university, get his parents off the ranch. Now, though, Tommy's gone and has been for years, and if all the money he's sent home isn't enough to help them, then it's likely nothing ever will be enough. He's sending back a message to be delivered by the returning crew, along with the remnants pay he'd been setting aside for his own surgery. There's no need for it now. He still misses his parents, but even before he came here, even before his accident, it had been years since he'd been home. Years since he'd done more than exchange a couple of messages a year with them. They've lived without him for nearly seven years, he tells himself, they'll be able to manage.
These past few months mark the first time he's ever done something solely for himself. It was a bit of a shock when he first realized it, but he finds it's not so uncomfortable an idea as he thought it would be. Jared is the best thing that ever happened to him, although he feels guilty about everything Jared has had to sacrifice for him. None of the Omaticaya are questioning their bond anymore, but the question of Jared's needing a successor is still up in the air. Jared himself seems pretty sanguine about it, pointing out that it's not just his own children who are born with the gift, that they can always foster a child to become the next tsahik. Or at least, that's what Jensen thinks he said, unfamiliar with the actual Na'vi word he used. He's not sure he understands any of it, but he's too damned selfish to let Jared go, so he just goes along with it as though he understands. Maybe, he reasons with himself, someday he will.
He falls asleep almost the moment he emerges from the link for the last time, exhausted beyond the limits of endurance. He barely has the energy upon waking to pull himself into his chair, aided by Max, who fusses until Jensen has to wave him off.
"Quit clucking," he manages, arms wrapped around his aching ribs as Max pushes his wheelchair toward the main doors. "I just have to last long enough to get out there."
Max scowls disapprovingly. "That’s what I’m worried about."
There’s nothing to say to that, so Jensen stays silent until they get to the main doors, dons his re-breather mask when Max hands it to him, lets himself be hauled up into the waiting tilt-rotor. He watches Norm and Max, standing at a safe distance from the tilt-rotor, waves weakly at them as the motor hums to life, and they wave in return. They already said their goodbyes. When Trudy returns, they'll get on the last transport out, leaving Pandora to the Na'vi once more.
Jensen drifts once he’s buckled into his seat, oblivious to Trudy’s worried glances, watching the world go by in a blur of colour until they set down in the clearing closest to the Omaticaya’s new settlement. Jared is waiting just at the edge of the clearing, hands on his hips, looking at once fearsome and a little nervous, a combination Jensen can’t help but find endearing. Jared hesitates when he sees him, then visibly steels himself and pulls himself up into the chopper, bending down so that he can both fit inside and look Jensen in the face even from his great height. It feels a little like being loomed over by the Friendly Giant, Jensen thinks, giddy from the painkillers Max forced on him before they left. They're probably a good thing, the only thing keeping him conscious, but they've also made everything a little fuzzy around the edges.
"You are ready to leave?"
Jensen nods, grits his teeth when Jared easily lifts him out of his seat and into his arms, cradling him like a child. He can’t help but suck in a pained breath when the movement jostles his ribs, and Jared gives him a worried glance.
"You are well?"
"I’m okay for now. Let’s blow this popsicle stand. I’ll explain later," he adds when it’s obvious Jared has no idea what he’s talking about. "Hasta luego, Trudy," he turns his head toward her, summoning up the remnants of his high school Spanish. "Gracias por todo."
She grins. "De nada. You watch yourself, okay? I didn't go through all this shit so you could get yourself eaten by a Thanator."
"You got it."
It feels strange, seeing the forest like this through the protective plastic of his mask rather than with his own eyes. The colours are slightly muted, the sounds not as clear, but he thinks that might have something to do with just how difficult he’s finding it to cling to consciousness. He lets his head rest against Jared’s chest, eyes at half-mast, decides that he should probably feel a little embarrassed at how safe he feels like this, protected and cherished, but finds he can’t muster the energy for it. It’s all he can do just to keep awake, to breathe through the pain that’s become his constant companion for the past ten days. Jared strides through the woods with newfound confidence, easily scales the huge tree that the Omaticaya have chosen as their new home without so much as breaking a sweat, even with Jensen in his arms.
Jensen hasn’t had the chance yet to see Jared’s new living space—their new living space, he reminds himself—but even once they’re inside he can’t appreciate it fully. His back and ribs are on fire, his lungs protesting every breath he draws, sweat beading on his face even though this should barely count as exertion. Jared lays him down carefully on a pallet, gently stretching him out until he’s lying flat on his back. For a few moments Jensen loses track of him, can only hear vague scuffling sounds as he moves around, making preparations. Finally he appears again, expression serious.
"I must prepare you now."
Jensen nods, tries not to stiffen up too much as Jared removes his clothes, one item at a time, moving slowly and painstakingly so as not to hurt him accidentally. For a moment Jared pauses, looking at him wonderingly.
"You are so small like this," he says, and although Jensen figures he should probably feel insulted by the comment, he isn’t, not really.
"It’s not the size that counts, it’s what you do with it," he jokes, and is rewarded by a smile.
Jared takes a breath, picks up a small container of pigment and begins the laborious process of applying it to Jensen's body, smiling a little when Jensen shivers under his touch, goose bumps forming on his skin as Jared’s fingers brush against him. Self-conscious and maybe just a little turned on by the gentleness and reverence with which Jared is treating him, Jensen smiles back, determinedly fixes his eyes on the roof over his head and tries to think of anything other than Jared’s hands marking his skin.
"Hold your breath," Jared says after what feels like an eternity, then lifts the re-breather mask, working as quickly as he can to apply the pigment to Jensen’s face before replacing it. "You are well?" he asks again.
Jensen nods, grimaces. "Never better."
He watches as Jared strips off his hunter’s vestments and pulls on the intricately-woven bead necklace that will show his rank as tsahik, living embodiment of the will of Eywa. Jared deftly begins applying several different colours of pigment to his own skin in a pattern far more intricate than the one on Jensen’s own body with a skill that says this is not the first time he has done this. Jensen wonders if he was made to practice on himself, or if he had to do this during official ceremonies even before he tried to help Grace. He wasn't painted, then.
"You are ready?" Jared asks when he’s done.
"Ready as I’ll ever be."
"Then we will go now."
Jared carries him easily to the gathering place by the Vitraya Ramunong, cradled against his chest. Jensen doesn’t even have the time to feel awkward about being entirely naked in front of the tribe before he’s laid down at the foot of the Mother Tree, side by side with the sleeping form of his avatar. If he turns his head he can see that the body has been similarly prepared, naked save for white, black and yellow pigment applied in an intricate swirling pattern from head to foot. The avatar looks peaceful, curled into a foetal position on its side. At Jared’s urging, Jensen turns as much as he can onto his side, and when positioning his own legs proves too painful Jared kneels to help him.
"All will be well," he says softly, laying his hand over Jensen’s heart.
Jensen swallows hard and nods, wishes they weren’t separated by the plastic of his mask. If all goes well, when this is over, they won’t be. He takes comfort in the steadiness of Jared’s hands, feels the frantic hammering of his heartbeat slow a bit under his touch.
"Eywa will take you up in her arms," Jared says, raising his voice so that it can be heard by everyone gathered there, "and she will guide your crossing."
Dimly Jensen is aware of someone translating into Na'vi, but it’s a voice he doesn’t recognize. So many friends dead and gone forever, he thinks numbly, and then all thoughts of the past are driven from his mind as his whole body begins to tingle with a now-familiar sensation. He shivers a little as the Mother Tree reaches toward him, twining delicate tendrils of root-cilia over his body, around his arms and legs, wrapping him gently in its embrace. The world begins to fade, sound and colours washing out until he’s surrounded by nothing but a gentle white light. All around he can hear the soft whisper of the voices of the ancestors, though they’re speaking a language he still can’t understand. He’s shrouded by the tree, rocked and comforted and enfolded, feels himself borne aloft on what feels like a wave, a surge of emotion he can’t begin to quantify. There's light all around. Peace overwhelms him, the crippling pain of the past few days a distant memory. It would be easy, he thinks, just to let go. He’s so damned tired…
The choice is yours.
The voice is clear in his mind, like a bell.
"I see," he replies. He’s already made his choice, he just needed a reminder of the direction he’d already picked to travel.
It’s nothing like the way he’s used to forming the link with his avatar. There’s no falling sensation now, only a wave cresting beneath his feet. He’s already left his dying body behind, and he allows himself a moment to let sorrow wash over him for everything he’s leaving, for the death of what was left of his humanity. Then he steels himself, imagines himself stepping forward into the light.
When he awakens again he finds himself staring into a familiar pair of gold-ringed eyes and smiles. Knows that, for the first time, he truly understands what it means to see.
"Ìla’rey," he says, reaching up and placing his hand against Jared’s chest, just over his heart. "Oel ngati kmeie."
Jared smiles back. "I see you too, Jensen."
~END~
Thanks & Author's Notes
Part IVb
Epilogue —Rebirth
Jensen spends most of the next few days drifting in and out of consciousness, aided in no small part by the massive doses of painkillers that Max administers to him with Norm's blessing. Jensen mutters darkly about traitors but can't keep his eyes open long enough to see the worried looks on their faces. Norm isn't in great shape himself, badly shaken from having his avatar killed while he was still linked to it, but he's soldiering gamely on, clinging to sanity like a lifeline. Jensen was too panicked, trying to get to the emergency re-breather mask, to see what happened to Norm, but he found out later that the avatar had died long before Quaritch and Jensen had ever come near the outpost, catapulting Norm back to his human body and leaving him to crawl, barely lucid enough to grab one of the spare exopacks, back to the relative safety of the Omaticaya.
He's being sent back to Earth, along with every single other human left alive on Pandora, Trudy and Max included, as well as the remaining avatar drivers –who'd been locked up the minute there was any sign of real trouble, lest their loyalties prove to be with Jensen and the Na'vi. . Selfridge, who somehow managed to escape with his life if not his dignity, has made it clear that the Pandora project is a write-off as far as he's concerned. Two transports are heading back to Earth, one with most of the military personnel, the other with the civilians –a safeguard put in place to make sure Trudy, Max and Norm don't find themselves on the wrong end of someone's gun or knife on the voyage back. Not that they really expect trouble, but Jensen would rather not take chances with that.
With the humans gone, there will be no one left to man the equipment here, whatever is left when it's all dismantled and shipped back to Earth along with the people. It quickly becomes apparent that the relays have been sabotaged, no doubt Quaritch's work, which makes it impossible to send word through the relays or to get anything back, for that matter. There has been complete radio silence for weeks, with no way of telling what awaits them back home until the transports physically reach the first working relay station several dozen light years away.
Against all of Max's instructions, Jensen spends what time he's awake and conscious linked up to his avatar, coordinating the evacuation. His own decision has been made, although it was harder than he ever thought it would be. In a way, it feels like choosing between two different kinds of death, rather than between life and death. He wonders if Grace felt the same way, when she underwent the process. He can't go back, though, he knows this. Even if he survived the voyage back, which is unlikely according to Max —something about the strain of being put into cry and then taken out again being too much for his system to take after everything that's happened— there's more to tie him here than there is to link him back to the planet he once thought would be his only home.
Everything in his life before he came here was done for his family, to make sure they were taken care of. Put Tommy through university, get his parents off the ranch. Now, though, Tommy's gone and has been for years, and if all the money he's sent home isn't enough to help them, then it's likely nothing ever will be enough. He's sending back a message to be delivered by the returning crew, along with the remnants pay he'd been setting aside for his own surgery. There's no need for it now. He still misses his parents, but even before he came here, even before his accident, it had been years since he'd been home. Years since he'd done more than exchange a couple of messages a year with them. They've lived without him for nearly seven years, he tells himself, they'll be able to manage.
These past few months mark the first time he's ever done something solely for himself. It was a bit of a shock when he first realized it, but he finds it's not so uncomfortable an idea as he thought it would be. Jared is the best thing that ever happened to him, although he feels guilty about everything Jared has had to sacrifice for him. None of the Omaticaya are questioning their bond anymore, but the question of Jared's needing a successor is still up in the air. Jared himself seems pretty sanguine about it, pointing out that it's not just his own children who are born with the gift, that they can always foster a child to become the next tsahik. Or at least, that's what Jensen thinks he said, unfamiliar with the actual Na'vi word he used. He's not sure he understands any of it, but he's too damned selfish to let Jared go, so he just goes along with it as though he understands. Maybe, he reasons with himself, someday he will.
He falls asleep almost the moment he emerges from the link for the last time, exhausted beyond the limits of endurance. He barely has the energy upon waking to pull himself into his chair, aided by Max, who fusses until Jensen has to wave him off.
"Quit clucking," he manages, arms wrapped around his aching ribs as Max pushes his wheelchair toward the main doors. "I just have to last long enough to get out there."
Max scowls disapprovingly. "That’s what I’m worried about."
There’s nothing to say to that, so Jensen stays silent until they get to the main doors, dons his re-breather mask when Max hands it to him, lets himself be hauled up into the waiting tilt-rotor. He watches Norm and Max, standing at a safe distance from the tilt-rotor, waves weakly at them as the motor hums to life, and they wave in return. They already said their goodbyes. When Trudy returns, they'll get on the last transport out, leaving Pandora to the Na'vi once more.
Jensen drifts once he’s buckled into his seat, oblivious to Trudy’s worried glances, watching the world go by in a blur of colour until they set down in the clearing closest to the Omaticaya’s new settlement. Jared is waiting just at the edge of the clearing, hands on his hips, looking at once fearsome and a little nervous, a combination Jensen can’t help but find endearing. Jared hesitates when he sees him, then visibly steels himself and pulls himself up into the chopper, bending down so that he can both fit inside and look Jensen in the face even from his great height. It feels a little like being loomed over by the Friendly Giant, Jensen thinks, giddy from the painkillers Max forced on him before they left. They're probably a good thing, the only thing keeping him conscious, but they've also made everything a little fuzzy around the edges.
"You are ready to leave?"
Jensen nods, grits his teeth when Jared easily lifts him out of his seat and into his arms, cradling him like a child. He can’t help but suck in a pained breath when the movement jostles his ribs, and Jared gives him a worried glance.
"You are well?"
"I’m okay for now. Let’s blow this popsicle stand. I’ll explain later," he adds when it’s obvious Jared has no idea what he’s talking about. "Hasta luego, Trudy," he turns his head toward her, summoning up the remnants of his high school Spanish. "Gracias por todo."
She grins. "De nada. You watch yourself, okay? I didn't go through all this shit so you could get yourself eaten by a Thanator."
"You got it."
It feels strange, seeing the forest like this through the protective plastic of his mask rather than with his own eyes. The colours are slightly muted, the sounds not as clear, but he thinks that might have something to do with just how difficult he’s finding it to cling to consciousness. He lets his head rest against Jared’s chest, eyes at half-mast, decides that he should probably feel a little embarrassed at how safe he feels like this, protected and cherished, but finds he can’t muster the energy for it. It’s all he can do just to keep awake, to breathe through the pain that’s become his constant companion for the past ten days. Jared strides through the woods with newfound confidence, easily scales the huge tree that the Omaticaya have chosen as their new home without so much as breaking a sweat, even with Jensen in his arms.
Jensen hasn’t had the chance yet to see Jared’s new living space—their new living space, he reminds himself—but even once they’re inside he can’t appreciate it fully. His back and ribs are on fire, his lungs protesting every breath he draws, sweat beading on his face even though this should barely count as exertion. Jared lays him down carefully on a pallet, gently stretching him out until he’s lying flat on his back. For a few moments Jensen loses track of him, can only hear vague scuffling sounds as he moves around, making preparations. Finally he appears again, expression serious.
"I must prepare you now."
Jensen nods, tries not to stiffen up too much as Jared removes his clothes, one item at a time, moving slowly and painstakingly so as not to hurt him accidentally. For a moment Jared pauses, looking at him wonderingly.
"You are so small like this," he says, and although Jensen figures he should probably feel insulted by the comment, he isn’t, not really.
"It’s not the size that counts, it’s what you do with it," he jokes, and is rewarded by a smile.
Jared takes a breath, picks up a small container of pigment and begins the laborious process of applying it to Jensen's body, smiling a little when Jensen shivers under his touch, goose bumps forming on his skin as Jared’s fingers brush against him. Self-conscious and maybe just a little turned on by the gentleness and reverence with which Jared is treating him, Jensen smiles back, determinedly fixes his eyes on the roof over his head and tries to think of anything other than Jared’s hands marking his skin.
"Hold your breath," Jared says after what feels like an eternity, then lifts the re-breather mask, working as quickly as he can to apply the pigment to Jensen’s face before replacing it. "You are well?" he asks again.
Jensen nods, grimaces. "Never better."
He watches as Jared strips off his hunter’s vestments and pulls on the intricately-woven bead necklace that will show his rank as tsahik, living embodiment of the will of Eywa. Jared deftly begins applying several different colours of pigment to his own skin in a pattern far more intricate than the one on Jensen’s own body with a skill that says this is not the first time he has done this. Jensen wonders if he was made to practice on himself, or if he had to do this during official ceremonies even before he tried to help Grace. He wasn't painted, then.
"You are ready?" Jared asks when he’s done.
"Ready as I’ll ever be."
"Then we will go now."
Jared carries him easily to the gathering place by the Vitraya Ramunong, cradled against his chest. Jensen doesn’t even have the time to feel awkward about being entirely naked in front of the tribe before he’s laid down at the foot of the Mother Tree, side by side with the sleeping form of his avatar. If he turns his head he can see that the body has been similarly prepared, naked save for white, black and yellow pigment applied in an intricate swirling pattern from head to foot. The avatar looks peaceful, curled into a foetal position on its side. At Jared’s urging, Jensen turns as much as he can onto his side, and when positioning his own legs proves too painful Jared kneels to help him.
"All will be well," he says softly, laying his hand over Jensen’s heart.
Jensen swallows hard and nods, wishes they weren’t separated by the plastic of his mask. If all goes well, when this is over, they won’t be. He takes comfort in the steadiness of Jared’s hands, feels the frantic hammering of his heartbeat slow a bit under his touch.
"Eywa will take you up in her arms," Jared says, raising his voice so that it can be heard by everyone gathered there, "and she will guide your crossing."
Dimly Jensen is aware of someone translating into Na'vi, but it’s a voice he doesn’t recognize. So many friends dead and gone forever, he thinks numbly, and then all thoughts of the past are driven from his mind as his whole body begins to tingle with a now-familiar sensation. He shivers a little as the Mother Tree reaches toward him, twining delicate tendrils of root-cilia over his body, around his arms and legs, wrapping him gently in its embrace. The world begins to fade, sound and colours washing out until he’s surrounded by nothing but a gentle white light. All around he can hear the soft whisper of the voices of the ancestors, though they’re speaking a language he still can’t understand. He’s shrouded by the tree, rocked and comforted and enfolded, feels himself borne aloft on what feels like a wave, a surge of emotion he can’t begin to quantify. There's light all around. Peace overwhelms him, the crippling pain of the past few days a distant memory. It would be easy, he thinks, just to let go. He’s so damned tired…
The choice is yours.
The voice is clear in his mind, like a bell.
"I see," he replies. He’s already made his choice, he just needed a reminder of the direction he’d already picked to travel.
It’s nothing like the way he’s used to forming the link with his avatar. There’s no falling sensation now, only a wave cresting beneath his feet. He’s already left his dying body behind, and he allows himself a moment to let sorrow wash over him for everything he’s leaving, for the death of what was left of his humanity. Then he steels himself, imagines himself stepping forward into the light.
When he awakens again he finds himself staring into a familiar pair of gold-ringed eyes and smiles. Knows that, for the first time, he truly understands what it means to see.
"Ìla’rey," he says, reaching up and placing his hand against Jared’s chest, just over his heart. "Oel ngati kmeie."
Jared smiles back. "I see you too, Jensen."
~END~
Thanks & Author's Notes
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