Part IIc -The Trojan Horse
[Master Post]
Part II b
"Try again."
"You know, I would pay a lot of money never to hear those words again," Jensen mutters, picking himself out of the mud for what feels like the fifteenth or sixteenth time in almost as many minutes.
"Your money is worth nothing to me. Try again," Jared stands over him with an infuriating smirk on his face.
It's not the getting on the direhorse that's the problem. In fact, Jensen has done it so many times by now that he's actually pretty graceful at it. It's the whole bond thing that he can't get used to. Tsaheylu, as the Na'vi call it, is something not even Grace and Norm together have been able to explain to him, beyond the fact that they know it exists and that it's something specific to Na'vi physiology. The simple reason for that, of course, is that they've never experienced it themselves, although it seems to Jensen like every Na'vi over the age of infancy has experienced some form of it. To make matters worse, Jared either can't or won't explain it to him further than what he's already attempted, which hasn't exactly improved the quality of their relationship. Jensen pushes, Jared resisted, and it came close to getting unpleasant until they both gave a little ground before things got out of hand. They've reached a sort of détente now, but it's still awkward and stiff between them most of the time, even when Jared lets himself relax a little and joke around.
With a sigh Jensen gets to his feet again, folds his arms and stares balefully at the direhorse, which is grazing impassively on a tuft of grass. "I'm missing something," he tries again. "I don't get how you don't get totally overwhelmed when you form the bond. When I'm up there it's all sounds and smells and seeing things that are at totally the wrong angle. I mean, how do you make it all make sense so you don't fall off? Or, you know, puke?"
"Puke?"
"Throw up," Jensen explains. "Sick to your stomach."
Jared tilts his head. "It gives you that sensation?" He seems honestly shocked.
"Yeah. It's like being turned upside down."
Jared catches the direhorse by its bridle, frowns as he rubs its nose, obviously mulling over what Jensen just said, chewing on his lip. Finally he looks up at Jensen, considering. "We will try something else. You mount," he steps back, gestures to the direhorse.
"Here we go again," Jensen springs onto the direhorse's back, settles himself comfortably and looks to Jared for whatever new thing he's going to try. Whatever it is, he figures at least it'll be different than what they've been doing over and over again for hours with no success. "What now, sensei? "
Jared doesn't respond to the unknown word, but simply steps closer to him. "Now you close your eyes, and you do not listen to anything but me."
"Uh, that last part is kind of hard."
"Try," comes the curt command.
"Right, okay, yes. Sure." He sees Jared looking at him expectantly, so he closes his eyes, feeling a little off-balance, the direhorse's flanks rising and falling beneath his legs. Jared's hand brushes against his wrist, startling him a little, then moves to take his braid just as carefully as the first time he touched it, and Jensen shivers a little.
"Stay very still. When you form the bond, you think of nothing at all. You breathe, same as A'lai. Feel her breath in you, feel her legs like yours. See what A'lai sees, only."
Jensen nods, a little breathless, and this time while the sudden influx of sensations is just as shocking as ever, with his eyes closed and all his attention focused simply on breathing and feeling the direhorse beneath him it's no longer as disorienting. He lurches a little bit, catches himself with one hand against the direhorse's neck, and is instantly rewarded with a faint feeling of pleasure. When he moves his hand, petting the direhorse, the feeling intensifies, and he lets out a small laugh.
"Wow."
"Now you feel A'lai's heart," Jared says softly, and Jensen hears his voice as though it's coming from several directions, the words clear in his ears and the voice gentle in his mind as the direhorse recognizes it as an ally. "See what she sees, then show her what you see."
The world comes back, bit by bit, colour by colour, until Jensen feels confident enough to open his eyes. It's strange, but he stays upright, pushes back against the images crowding and clamouring for his attention. The direhorse shifts under him, and he can feel her anticipation, her desire to be told by her rider what he wants of her.
"Now, you may tell her where to go."
"Okay, forward!" he says, thrilled at the progress he's made.
The mare darts forward and the whole world tilts again and before he knows it he's landed ass over teakettle in the mud again. He rolls to his feet, laughing in spite of himself, looks up to see Jared coming toward him, a smile spreading over his face.
"Okay, so maybe I got a little ahead of myself there," he concedes, but Jared claps him on the shoulder, and he laughs harder, a little giddy with the notion that he might be able to do this after all. "What made you change your mind?"
Jared gives him another one of those looks that suggests he has no idea where Jensen comes up with the weird things that come out of his mouth, but he tries to answer anyway. "You could not see," he says, as though that explains everything.
Jensen resists the urge to drop his face into his hands in utter despair. "What do you mean?"
The frustrated expression on Jared's face is almost comical, but Jensen understands exactly how he feels. Jared's English is a thousand times better than Jensen's Na'vi, but it's still limited, and it's hard enough to communicate the basics without having to go into complicated quasi-metaphysical stuff like what the Na'vi mean by "seeing" something. Norm tried to explain to him on a day when he was being less pissy than usual.
"It's more than just looking, than seeing what's in front of you. When someone says 'Oel ngati kmeie,' they're not just saying 'I see you,' they're saying 'I see into you, I acknowledge you as your true self.' Do you get it?"
"I think so," he'd replied, and at the time he thought he had, the same way he thought he got it the first time he said it to Jared, but now he's not so sure.
When you ride the direhorse, you do not see," Jared says again, as though that explains everything. "You see only through your eyes and not through hers. If you close your eyes, then you learn to see as she does. Then you open your eyes, and you learn to see together. It is like...like you are born blind, but Eywa gives you back your eyes when you are grown."
Jensen thinks about it for a second. "Right. So it's like sensory overload."
"I don't know what that means."
"I was seeing more things than I'm used to seeing all at once."
"Yes," Jared nods enthusiastically, and Jensen can't help but grin, now that they're obviously on the same page about this.
"Okay, I'mma try again," he says, bounces back onto the direhorse's back before Jared so much as has time even to turn around.
He closes his eyes, brings his queue around, feels the now-familiar electrical jolt as he forms the bond with A'lai. The world comes to life in a kaleidoscope of vaguely-familiar colours and scents, subtly different now that he's perceiving them through A'lai's senses instead of his own. This time, though, when he opens his eyes, he's ready. It's strange, still disorienting, but now he thinks he understands. It's not about seeing one or the other, it's about both, about taking what he sees and showing it to the direhorse, showing her what he wants.
"Okay, girl. Go!"
He urges her forward with his knees and his mind, and when she takes off at a canter it feels as though he's flying.
The days start going by increasingly quickly. Jensen spends most of his time trying to keep up with Jared's boundless energy, even in the completely healthy body of his own avatar. Even by Na'vi standards, he quickly realizes, Jared is exceptionally quick and strong and nimble. He's a good head taller than most of them, with broad muscles in his back and shoulders, powerful legs and strong arms. He wields his longbow like it's nothing, can break the back of a coyote with one blow if he has to -though Jensen hasn't seen him do anything of the sort since the night they met, when Jared saved his life.
The flip side, of course, is that Jared seems to have little to no patience or understanding for physical limitations. The Na'vi don't appear to get sick much, as far as Jensen can tell, and with the carbon fibre that naturally reinforces their bones, they don't get injured easily either. The first time Jared throws himself with a maniacal whoop off the top of one of Pandora's enormous trees Jensen just about has a heart attack until he sees that Jared is actually using the huge leaves of another nearby tree to break his fall, tumbling gracefully from one to the next until he reaches the ground. Jensen swallows hard when Jared yells at him to follow, has to force himself not to close his eyes before launching himself into the air. His own fall is a whole lot less graceful than Jared's, leaving him lying in a tangled heap of limbs at the base of the tree, but he's pleasantly surprised to find that he made it all the way down without breaking his neck or any other important limbs.
"So what do you do when you hurt yourself?" he asks later on, when his heart rate has returned to normal. They're sitting on another spiralling branch in a tree maybe five clicks away, which Jared apparently decided to climb on a whim, but which offers a breathtaking view of a deep valley, shrouded in mist.
Jared shrugs, like he doesn't know what the question even means. "We have a healer."
"But you live in a giant tree. I mean, what if the person can't walk anymore?"
"Then they are carried."
"No, I mean, what if they're paralysed? If they can't walk ever again?"
Jared turns his head, expression quizzical. "I have not known this in my village. I suppose we would care for them. Our elders don't leave Home Tree much -they stay in their homes and help with things other than the hunt. With the weaving and tanning and painting." When Jensen stays silent after that, he gives him a shrewd look. "You ask this for a reason?"
"I was just wondering."
"You know someone who is like this," Jared's too insightful for his own good, Jensen has noticed. "Someone who doesn't walk. You say your brother is dead, and so you dreamwalk for him?"
"That's right."
"So your brother isn't the one who doesn't walk."
"No, it's me. I mean, my human body is paralysed from the waist down." It feels strange saying it aloud. When he's human, it's so obvious that it doesn't need to be said, and it's never been relevant when he's been in the link, his psyche housed in a perfectly sound body. Jared doesn't seem perturbed, though, merely curious.
"Is it strange, walking now?"
He shakes his head. "No. It's stranger to go back and not be able to walk. I used to be able to when I was...I mean, I wasn't always a paraplegic."
"I don't know this word. It means that you aren't able to walk?"
Jensen nods. "Right."
Jared thinks about it for a while, which is pretty unusual. Even in the short time Jensen has come to know him, Jared has never been one for over-thinking things, preferring to throw caution to the winds and simply throw himself into the thick of things.
"Is this why you become a Dreamwalker? So that you have a body that is whole?"
"No," he protests, maybe a little too quickly. "I mean, no, not really. I didn't think about that when I signed up. It's just...it's hard to explain. It was meant to be my brother, you know."
"Yes."
"But making a body like this, it's expensive for us. It costs money," he says, knowing that the Na'vi understand the concept of money even if they don't have any of their own. "So they didn't want to, well, waste it, I guess. So they asked me to come, and they're paying me a lot of money to do it, too."
"You do this only for money?"
It's the first time they've had this discussion directly like this. Jensen feels oddly nettled by the idea that his motivations are only mercenary, even if he threw the very same statement in Norm's face before. Hearing it like this, though, it feels cheap.
"Not only for that, but yeah. You don't have that here, but back where I come from, things are hard. There aren't many trees left, there isn't enough food or shelter for everyone. People are poor. My family is, too. They're living on the farm where I grew up, but the soil is contaminated now -they can't grow anything on it anymore and they can't sell it or leave it behind, because they have nowhere else to go. So they're stuck, unless I send back enough money for them to get out."
He can tell Jared doesn't really understand half of what he's saying, and how could he? Sitting here on a tree that's ten times the size of the Ackles' farmhouse, overlooking a thousand similar trees, it's hard to imagine a world in which not only are the trees stunted, diminished versions of these, but in which humans outnumber the trees about a thousand to one. Sometimes Jensen himself has trouble remembering it, remembering why he's here at all. He doesn't remember the last time he went home, saw his parents. He has a vision of his Mama standing out on the dry, cracked ground in front of the farm, hair coming out of her braid in wisps. She gave him a hug that last time, her expression calm and a little sad, wonders if she still looks like that now, all these years later, or if all that time spent living on poisoned ground has aged her prematurely. He rubs at his kneecap with one hand, enjoying the fact that he can feel the touch, that his leg responds to the external stimulus. In a few hours he has to go back, and every day he looks forward to it less.
Jared is still looking at him, staring so intently that it's uncomfortable. "What?"
Jared shakes his head. "I don't see you."
"What do you mean? I'm right here." Jensen doesn't roll his eyes, because he's pretty sure that's a sure-fire recipe for giving offence. He knows what Jared means, but the idea that Jared doesn't think he's real...it makes his gut twist in a way he doesn't like at all.
"No, I mean that I don't see you," Jared repeats with more emphasis. "How can I know who you are when all I see is the body in which you dream walk? It is like becoming friends with a..." he casts about for a word, and fails. "The picture you see on the water's surface."
"A reflection?" Jensen suggests, and gets a perplexed look. "It's the image of yourself when you look into water, or a mirror. Not that you have mirrors, but maybe Grace showed you one?"
"A reflection," Jared agrees. "You see me, but I see only your reflection."
Jensen bites the inside of his cheek, because what is there to say to that? Jared is never going to know the 'real' him, because the 'real' him can't breathe the air out here, and even with a re-breather unit he still wouldn't be able to get around in his wheelchair. The 'real' him is all but useless in his own world, and definitely useless in this one where there's no such thing as political correctness and obligatory access ramps. "We should be getting back," he says finally. "Grace is going to have my head if I don't have my report in by this evening."
Jared nods, seemingly reluctantly, but he gets to his feet, pulls Jensen up by one arm. Jensen gets the feeling he does it just because he can, rather than because he feels that Jensen can't make his way around on his own. He's still not as sure-footed as a born Na'vi, but he's getting the hang of this moon and its strange gravity, and since he hasn't yet managed to kill himself he figures that's probably a good sign. Jensen allows himself one last glance over his shoulder at the sun setting over the valley, then follows Jared back along the tree tops toward home.
Jensen dreams of flying. The dreams had tapered off for a while when he first arrived on Pandora, replaced by the more regular anxiety dreams he was used to having before. Dreams in which he became lost in impenetrable mazes, wandering between walls that shifted and warped. Dreams in which he was being chased or in which he was running after something that grew every more distant. Now, though, while every waking moment is spent either in Jared's company or recording what he did in Jared's company, his sleeping hours are spent soaring high above even the tallest trees on Pandora.
He recognizes the landscapes now. They've always been the same: vast expanses of lush foliage thousands of feet below, dotted with white where the clouds hang lower than their wont. It's a heady feeling, up here so close to the sun. Jensen tilts his head back, eyes closed, letting the warmth of the rays bathe his face in stark contrast to the frigid air at these heights. Up here he's free the way he never was before, not even when he still had his legs, not even when he was still a kid chasing after his brother in the mud of their back yard, not a care in the world. Up here, nothing matters but him and the wind, him and the sun, him and the great bird he's riding.
The realization jolts him out of the dream, bringing him to his senses, drenched in a cold sweat. He sucks in a gulp of air, his chest burning from the effort, and finds himself staring into the morning-sour face of Norm Spellman.
"Breakfast in ten. Grace said if you weren't up in five she'd eat your share."
He nods, brings up a hand to scrub at his face, but Norm doesn't move from where he is.
"Having some interesting dreams, are we?"
Jensen's too out of it to decipher his tone. "Actually, I was dreaming about riding a banshee. I think. When I was driving the avatar, I mean. I was linked to it. Bonded to it."
"Well, aren't you special."
"Fuck you, Spellman," he says without any heat behind the words.
He's getting tired of Norm's pissiness, but there's not much he can do about it right now, so he just pushes himself upright, careful not to crack his skull on the bunk above him where Norm spends about half his nights. Jensen's pretty sure that he spends the other half of those nights in Trudy's bunk, but he finds he doesn't actually care all that much. Trudy's a good-looking girl, and he likes her, and if she wants to bed down with Norm, well, that's her decision. It's not like there are all that many opportunities to have sex around here, and the majority of the guys are either military or former military. He figures Trudy might want something a little different than what ninety percent of the guys in this place are able to offer her, and when he's not being an asshole Norm is actually a pretty nice guy and educated to boot.
"How about you dream a way of getting the Na'vi to cooperate with Grace again? Actually do something useful for once instead of screwing around out there. Or in here, for that matter."
"Excuse me?" Jensen pauses in the middle of moving his legs off the side of his bed, leans on both hands in order to look at Norm. "Just what the hell is your problem, Spellman?"
"You're my problem. The Na'vi obviously think they can use you for something, but it would be nice if you acted in good faith for just one day, and tried to help out our cause too. Instead all you're doing is dicking around. What do you think you're supposed to be doing out there?"
"It's way too early for this, and Jensen doesn't even have a cup of coffee to his name yet. "I'm supposed to be learning how to be like them."
"Well, you can't!" Norm snaps. "And the sooner you realize that, the better for all of us! Jesus Christ, Jensen, don't you get it? You're not here to live out your noble savage fantasies. You're not going to meet fucking Pocahontas and learn how to be one with the fucking forest! The Na'vi have a complex society, and all you're doing is waiting for Ìla'rey to show you how to bow hunt."
"The hell?" Jensen mutters. He has no idea where this is coming from. "Seriously, what crawled up your ass and died this morning, Spellman? You know what, never mind. Since you're obviously the expert on what I should be doing, why don't you give me your educated opinion? I'll even do you the courtesy of asking for it, since you're obviously dying to give it to me anyway."
Norm stalks toward the door, which would be more impressive if it took more than two steps to get there, then turns back. "You still don't get it. This isn't about you. It's not about me, either, for that matter. We're here for a reason, Jensen, and that reason is to learn whatever it is that the Na'vi have going on that's allowing them to thrive on this planet."
"I hate to break it to you, but that's not why I'm here."
Norm folds his arms over his chest. "You shock me. I suppose you're going to remind me how you're here for the money?"
He should have figured he'd get his own words thrown back at him eventually. "No, asswipe. The mission is to persuade the Na'vi to help us with the mining projects, so we can damned well help the billions of people we left back home. Or have you forgotten them, now that you live with only a few dozen humans?" Jensen spits, memories of his parents flashing through his mind. "Easy enough not to think of all of those people starving to death, or wasting away because the groundwater's been poisoned for so long. Or the ones packed ten to a room in government housing, sharing their food stamps because there isn't enough to go around. Did you forget about them?"
Norm has the grace to flush. "Of course not! But you can't tell me that saving our planet is worth destroying this one! You have no idea what digging under Home Tree could do to this place! You're too busy playing at hunter to look at it from a scientific point of view, to figure out what the repercussions might be."
"I'm not a scientist."
"And that's your problem right there. You're nothing but a soldier, a grunt who follows orders. You've got no capacity for critical thought, and that's what's needed here! That's why the program hired your brother and not you. They wanted a mind, not a gun. News flash: just because you're a convenient fuck for the boss―"
"You boys just about done with this little display of testosterone?" Grace asks drily from just outside the doorway, and Norm jumps guiltily.
"Uh, you heard that?"
"Dude, the Na'vi heard that," Jensen says tiredly, hauling himself into his chair with a wince. "This place is tiny and, no offence, but your voice carries."
"Jensen, go get something to eat," Grace says carefully. "And eat all of it, you're losing too much weight for my liking. Norm, stick around. You and I are going to have a chat."
Norm is apparently feeling suicidal, because he actually opens his mouth to protest. "Look, if this is going to be a talk about how the Na'vi picked Ackles as their super-special human envoy and that I need to play nice―"
Grace arches an eyebrow at him before interrupting. "How about you don't presume to know what I want to talk to you about and do what I say?"
Jensen can't help but grin at that, feeling weirdly vindicated. Before he can so much as wheel himself out the door, though, Grace turns on him. "Quit smirking, Jensen. You're not getting off that easily, either. When you get back tonight, you and I are going to be going over your mission protocols. Like it or not, Norm made a good point. And go eat, for Christ's sake."
"Got it. Although, for the record I resent being labelled a 'convenient fuck.' I am way better than that." He wheels himself into the tiny kitchen area where Trudy is pulling some sort of egg wrap thing out of the microwave. She slides the plate in front of him, and he stares at the congealed mess with revulsion.
"Hey," Trudy shrugs, "I just heated it up, don't shoot the messenger. You gotta eat the whole thing, though, doc's orders."
"I'm gonna puke if I eat that. The Na'vi food is way better than this, even if it looks weird."
"Except we can't eat the Na'vi food, or most of it, anyway, and you can't eat only when you're driving your avatar, because your human body will waste away and die. So quit whining and don't puke. We don't have an unlimited supply of this stuff, you know. Hey," she bends over the table to look at him. "You okay? You can't let Norm get to you. He's just...he cares about his job, same as you; he just has a different way of thinking about it."
He forces a smile. "It's not that. I just have a headache from him going on at me before I had any coffee this morning."
It's more than a headache, but he doesn't see how that's relevant to his breakfast, and it's not like Trudy needs to know he's feeling off. He suppresses a small shiver, takes a bite of his egg wrap, swallows, manages not to throw up. The whole thing churns uncomfortably in his stomach when he's done, but it stays down, and the cup of instant coffee Trudy hands him afterward goes a long way to making him feel better.
By the time he's settling down on the link bed he's convinced himself that he's not actually feeling so bad anymore. Norm is the one setting up his link, expression mutinous, and Jensen figures Grace must have read him the riot act-quietly. He doesn't look at Jensen, keeps his eyes on the vital signs monitor, lips pressed together in a thin line.
"You feeling okay?" he asks, but the question is perfunctory, like he's not really expecting an answer, and Jensen doesn't see why he should give him extra ammunition in his own private war against everything Ackles today.
"I'm just dandy."
"Okay, then. Buckle up, cowboy, and try to stay in the saddle this time."
Jensen falls.
On a whim, Jensen decides to tell Jared about the dream he had about riding one of the banshees. Instead of laughing at him the way he expected, though, Jared simply looks a little pensive. Abruptly he stands, interrupting the last of their breakfast.
"Come, Jensen, I show you," he says instead.
"Show me what?"
"Come and I show you."
"Right. I really should know better than to ask questions like that," Jensen mutters under his breath, but he follows Jared's lead.
They leave Home Tree almost immediately, but instead of heading down through the spiralling inner columns of the tree Jared leads him up into the thick, twisting branches. The light which filters in so thinly near the ground is much brighter up here, bathing the trees in a healthy glow, the leaves tilting upward toward the sun's rays as though simply drinking in the light. The tree trunk is too narrow up here to move within it, but the branches grow outward in a spiral, like the spokes of a wheel, making it easy to climb ever higher. Finally Jared stops by a platform that looks man-made, composed of thick wood and intricately-woven vines and branches.
"Wait," he says simply, then turns his face up toward the last few branches above them, still thick enough to make the sunlight dapple on the surface of the platform, and utters a series of shrill, barking cries.
"What―" Jensen starts, but almost immediately there's an answering cry along with a booming sound like a parachute unfurling, or like the cracking of the sails on an old-fashioned ship before a great wind, and a huge banshee comes to land on the platform less than a foot away from where Jared is standing.
The creature is astounding up close. Jensen has seen one or two from afar, seen pictures of them in the books, but never from so close. It stares at Jensen with one glittering, beady eye, and beats its wings furiously in the air as Jared reaches up to stroke its lizard-like head, reaching into the pouch on his belt for a piece of dried meat. Jensen catches sight of a row of sharp, wicked-looking teeth as it snatches the meat from Jared's hand and gulps it down, tilting its head back to allow the morsel to slide down its gullet more easily.
"Holy shit," Jensen breathes, and Jared starts, as though he'd forgotten he was there.
"Do not look her in eye," he warns, and Jensen immediately drops his gaze. If there's one thing he's learned here, it's that not paying attention to what the Na'vi have to say about the animals will pretty much directly result in bodily harm to him.
Still, he finds his eye drawn to the beautiful, iridescent scales that cover the banshee's body, gleaming in the morning light, lets his gaze travel along the arch of its neck. Jared is stroking the lithe body with one large hand, murmuring under his breath. Then he grasps the end of his queue, forms the bond with the banshee like it's second-nature, right as Jensen watches. Jensen is almost tempted to look away, as though this is something too intimate to be watched, but Jared doesn't appear self-conscious about it. There's a leathery rustling sound from somewhere to the side, and suddenly Jensen is aware that there are banshees all around, almost entirely camouflaged among the foliage. He shivers.
"So, is this a nest?"
"No. Meikran nest high up, on the rocks. This is..." Jared searches for a word, comes up empty. "The Omaticaya ride these, and so they stay here."
"An eyrie." Jensen surprises himself by knowing the word, wonders where the hell he picked it up. Probably Tommy at some point.
Jared shrugs, unable to confirm the word. "Ikran is not horse," he says instead. "Once tsaheylu is made, ikran will fly only with one hunter, until the end of life."
"The hunter's life, or the banshee's?"
"The ikran's life."
"What happens if the hunter dies first?" It's morbid, but he's curious.
"The ikran is set free to return to the mountains. She will not bond with another." Jared keeps stroking the banshee's neck for a moment longer, then pulls away, releasing her from the bond and letting her fly away in a loud flapping of wings. "When you become taronyu -hunter- you must choose your own ikran, and she will choose you. This is how it is done."
"And when's that?"
"When you are ready."
"And how do you know when you're ready?"
Jared smiles at him. "When your teacher tells you. Come, Jensen. I have something else to show you."
And with that he turns and disappears into the forest, leaving Jensen to either keep up or be left behind.
Jared leads him on the fastest foot chase Jensen has ever had to endure, jumping from tree to tree and ignoring all of Jensen's cries to slow down, already. Then with a wordless cry of joy he leaps into the air, arms akimbo, and plunges headfirst off what looks to Jensen like it might just be the edge of the world. This is a test, he barely has time to think before he's following Jared over the edge with a scream of terror that turns into one of exhilaration as he finally catches sight of the huge waterfall roaring below him.
He hits the deep pool below with a resounding splash, plunges into the crystalline water. For a moment he loses all sense of direction, thrashes wildly until he breaks the surface with a whooping gasp, trying desperately to drag air into his lungs. The next thing he knows he's back under the water again, being held down by arms much larger and stronger than his own. When he emerges again, coughing and choking, Jared is laughing wildly, and Jensen, his initial panic fading, finds himself grinning right back.
"Asshole!" he growls, and throws himself at Jared, doing his best to pin him and give him a taste of his own medicine.
They roll and thrash under the waterfall, hair coming loose from their queues, shed their clothing after a few moments. Jensen has never seen Jared this way before, like nothing more than an overgrown kid, nothing of the slightly resentful man who's been reluctantly showing him the ways of the Na'vi. It takes a moment for Jensen to work up to following Jared's lead, but eventually he strips away his clothing, tosses it heedlessly toward the bank until there's nothing between him and the crystalline water.
Jared laughs, leads him on a dizzying chase through the water, ducking in and out of the waterfall and only breaking the surface of the water when he absolutely has to come up for air. He's beautiful like this, Jensen thinks in spite of himself when they pause to catch their breath, with rivulets of water streaming over his skin, and suddenly Jensen wants nothing more than to just lean over and lick the drops away. Jared is staring at him too, and for a second Jensen is tempted to act on the insane thought. Then a bird swoops over the pool with a loud cry, and the moment is broken. Jared laughs again, more quietly, and leads them both onto the bank where their clothes are strewn all over the place. His hair has come entirely free from its braid and is plastered to his shoulders. He looks younger, wilder, a little more carefree than Jensen has ever seen him.
"There is room for play as well as work," he answers Jensen's unanswered question as he pulls himself from the water ahead of him, giving Jensen a very good view of his muscled ass and legs. He turns to pull Jensen from the water, apparently completely unconcerned by the fact they're both naked as the day is long. Jensen forces himself not to squirm as Jared's eyes rake him up and down.
"You should make your tswin to be tied again," he says a little haltingly, brushing the hair back from where it's clinging to Jensen's neck. Jensen doesn't bother correcting his grammar this time, too startled by the sensation of Jared's fingers against his skin. "It is not good for you to be unprotected."
"Oh, right," he reaches back, starts tugging a little awkwardly at his hair. It's not like he's ever bothered to learn the art of braiding, what with the Number 1 buzz cut being the hairstyle he's favoured for years. Even when he was a kid his hair was never more than a couple of inches long.
He struggles for a little longer until Jared gives an amused huff and pulls him closer by one shoulder. "Do you want me to help?" he asks, looking uncharacteristically self-conscious.
Jensen rolls his eyes at his own ineptitude. "If you don't mind. I'm no good at this. Where I come from guys don't have long hair. At least, not soldiers."
"Sit," Jared instructs him.
He kneels behind Jensen on the damp grass, the sun slowly drying the droplets of water from their skin. For a moment he hesitates, then very gently begins to tease out the worst of the knots in Jensen's hair with his fingers, smoothing it down his back. His touch is delicate, but it doesn't prevent Jensen from shivering a little every time his fingers come near the long exposed bundle of nerves that's usually protected by his braid. Jared gathers both the hair and the tswin into his large hands, begins the simple process of binding it again, and Jensen digs his fingers into the ground, a little surprised when he realizes that the whole process has become more than a little arousing, with Jared's strong hands working the individual strands of hair and brushing against his scalp, tugging and moulding. Jared seems intent on his work, though, or if he's noticed Jensen's sudden little problem he doesn't say anything. When he's done he draws away, but Jensen catches him by the wrist.
"Yours needs some work too," he points out, glad that he's gotten himself more under control by then.
Jared swallows, nods, and Jensen wonders if maybe he wasn't wrong to read something else into this. He switches positions with him, kneeling in the soft grass of the riverbank, does his best to mimic what Jared was doing before. It's harder than it looks, even doing it for someone else, and after a few minutes his back starts to protest and he's pretty sure one foot is falling asleep, but he wouldn't trade this for the world. Jared is pliant under his hands, fully relaxed and trusting for the first time since they've spent time together, which only serves to reinforce the gap that existed between them before. He tries to be as gentle as possible when he finally begins braiding the hair around Jared's tswin, acutely aware now of just how sensitive it is, finds himself wondering if Jared is having the same reaction as he did. He's too afraid to look, although he's not sure if he's afraid that Jared is aroused, or that he isn't.
"All done," he says softly, letting Jared's braid fall against his back. He lets his hand linger on Jared's shoulder, though, brushes his fingers softly against the ridges of bone on Jared's spine, and is rewarded with a full-body shudder.
All at once Jared twists where he's sitting and in one sinuous motion is face-to-face with Jensen, their faces inches apart, and Jensen has to force himself not to blink or look away from those huge cat-like eyes that seem to be boring directly into his soul. He swallows hard.
"Jared?" his voice comes out thin, his throat closing up.
"I don't see you," Jared murmurs, bringing up a hand to stroke Jensen's jaw. "How do I know if this is real?"
"I'm here, aren't I?" Jensen objects quietly. "Why does it matter what my body looks like, as long as my mind is the same?"
Jared kisses him. It's tentative at first, hesitant, just a brush of lips, but the sensation is electrifying. Jensen pushes forward, has to grab onto Jared's shoulders to keep his balance, finds that his tail has moved to wrap itself around Jared's waist without his even having to think about it, that Jared's tail has done exactly the same thing. When Jared doesn't seem like he's going to do anything more than this, Jensen pushes again, licks at his lips, gently encouraging Jared to let him in. Their tongues meet as Jared's lips part, and Jensen tastes fruit whose name he doesn't know, the texture of Jared's mouth both alien and familiar, warm and welcoming and oh-so-right that he doesn't bother to suppress the small moan of pleasure that builds in his throat. After a moment, though, Jared breaks the kiss, pulling back, eyes wide, his expression suddenly uncertain.
Jensen swallows again. "Uh, I take it you don't usually do that?" For the first time it occurs to him that he knows absolutely nothing about Na'vi sexuality, that maybe they don't do the whole sex-between-people-of-the-same-sex thing. He might have just unwittingly caused a freaking diplomatic incident, except that he's pretty sure he's not the one who initiated this kiss.
Jared's hand is still on his jaw, his tail still around Jensen's waist, the tip twitching. "I don't understand your question. Was this not...do you not want this?"
"Oh, no, God, no it's not that. I just... uh." It's weird, having this conversation when he can still feel Jared's breath on his face. "I didn't think you, uh, were into guys."
"I don't understand what you're saying."
This is getting frustrating. So much for euphemisms. "I mean, I thought that the Na'vi, you know, uh, that love and sex was maybe only between a man and a woman."
"Oh." Jared stops to consider this. "Is this how it is with the Sky People?"
Jensen shakes his head. "No. I mean, yes, mostly, but some of us do it a little differently. I just thought maybe you didn't, and I thought maybe I offended you."
Jared laughs, and his breath is sweet and warm again on Jensen's face. "I am the one who kissed you, Jensen."
Jensen grins, pulls back a little and rubs the back of his neck with his palm. His heart is thumping loudly in his chest. "Well, you wouldn't be the first guy to act on impulse and regret it later. I mean, what if I was corrupting an entire alien race? Grace would hand me my ass." For a split-second he wonders if he should be feeling guilty about Grace for a whole other reason, but it's not like she's been demanding roses or a lifetime commitment from him. Hell, they've had sex less than a handful of times, and while it's been good, it hasn't exactly been the most connected he's ever felt to someone. He suspects it's the same for her.
"I don't know most of these things that you say, even though I know the words," Jared screws up his nose in a way that makes Jensen want to kiss him even more soundly than before. Instead he just laughs and lets himself fall back onto the grassy bank with a contented sigh.
"It's okay. I don't understand myself most of the time."
Jared matches his laugh and lies next to him. "Maybe that is something we should work on. If you don't understand yourself, what hope do I have of learning?"
It's beautiful like this, peaceful. Jensen lies very still, letting the sun's rays soak into his skin, basking in the warmth of its glow and Jared's presence. It's easy, like this, to forget about everything that's waiting for him at the end of the day, the cold, sterile environment of the outpost. Eventually, though, the afternoon stretches out, and before the sun can sink too low in the sky, Jared stands up. "We should go back. The water still on our clothes will dry as we walk."
"Right." Jensen is still giddy, light-headed after lying in the sun. He barely notices the path they take to head back toward Home Tree, his heart skidding in his chest, his thoughts whirling so fast it almost takes his breath away. It's only when he stumbles over a protruding root and nearly falls that he realizes that he's actually physically dizzy. Jared turns, his expression suddenly worried.
"Jensen?"
He's never been clumsy in this body. Maybe not as nimble as Jared, but never uncoordinated. Jensen stares uncomprehendingly at his hands, has the dizzying sensation of falling even though he knows everything around him is still. He opens his mouth, finds that words are almost beyond him. All around there are flashes of brightly-coloured lights, sparking and swirling, and he barely has time to formulate one phrase before everything spirals out of control and he falls into darkness.
"Something's wrong..."
Part IIIa
Part II b
"Try again."
"You know, I would pay a lot of money never to hear those words again," Jensen mutters, picking himself out of the mud for what feels like the fifteenth or sixteenth time in almost as many minutes.
"Your money is worth nothing to me. Try again," Jared stands over him with an infuriating smirk on his face.
It's not the getting on the direhorse that's the problem. In fact, Jensen has done it so many times by now that he's actually pretty graceful at it. It's the whole bond thing that he can't get used to. Tsaheylu, as the Na'vi call it, is something not even Grace and Norm together have been able to explain to him, beyond the fact that they know it exists and that it's something specific to Na'vi physiology. The simple reason for that, of course, is that they've never experienced it themselves, although it seems to Jensen like every Na'vi over the age of infancy has experienced some form of it. To make matters worse, Jared either can't or won't explain it to him further than what he's already attempted, which hasn't exactly improved the quality of their relationship. Jensen pushes, Jared resisted, and it came close to getting unpleasant until they both gave a little ground before things got out of hand. They've reached a sort of détente now, but it's still awkward and stiff between them most of the time, even when Jared lets himself relax a little and joke around.
With a sigh Jensen gets to his feet again, folds his arms and stares balefully at the direhorse, which is grazing impassively on a tuft of grass. "I'm missing something," he tries again. "I don't get how you don't get totally overwhelmed when you form the bond. When I'm up there it's all sounds and smells and seeing things that are at totally the wrong angle. I mean, how do you make it all make sense so you don't fall off? Or, you know, puke?"
"Puke?"
"Throw up," Jensen explains. "Sick to your stomach."
Jared tilts his head. "It gives you that sensation?" He seems honestly shocked.
"Yeah. It's like being turned upside down."
Jared catches the direhorse by its bridle, frowns as he rubs its nose, obviously mulling over what Jensen just said, chewing on his lip. Finally he looks up at Jensen, considering. "We will try something else. You mount," he steps back, gestures to the direhorse.
"Here we go again," Jensen springs onto the direhorse's back, settles himself comfortably and looks to Jared for whatever new thing he's going to try. Whatever it is, he figures at least it'll be different than what they've been doing over and over again for hours with no success. "What now, sensei? "
Jared doesn't respond to the unknown word, but simply steps closer to him. "Now you close your eyes, and you do not listen to anything but me."
"Uh, that last part is kind of hard."
"Try," comes the curt command.
"Right, okay, yes. Sure." He sees Jared looking at him expectantly, so he closes his eyes, feeling a little off-balance, the direhorse's flanks rising and falling beneath his legs. Jared's hand brushes against his wrist, startling him a little, then moves to take his braid just as carefully as the first time he touched it, and Jensen shivers a little.
"Stay very still. When you form the bond, you think of nothing at all. You breathe, same as A'lai. Feel her breath in you, feel her legs like yours. See what A'lai sees, only."
Jensen nods, a little breathless, and this time while the sudden influx of sensations is just as shocking as ever, with his eyes closed and all his attention focused simply on breathing and feeling the direhorse beneath him it's no longer as disorienting. He lurches a little bit, catches himself with one hand against the direhorse's neck, and is instantly rewarded with a faint feeling of pleasure. When he moves his hand, petting the direhorse, the feeling intensifies, and he lets out a small laugh.
"Wow."
"Now you feel A'lai's heart," Jared says softly, and Jensen hears his voice as though it's coming from several directions, the words clear in his ears and the voice gentle in his mind as the direhorse recognizes it as an ally. "See what she sees, then show her what you see."
The world comes back, bit by bit, colour by colour, until Jensen feels confident enough to open his eyes. It's strange, but he stays upright, pushes back against the images crowding and clamouring for his attention. The direhorse shifts under him, and he can feel her anticipation, her desire to be told by her rider what he wants of her.
"Now, you may tell her where to go."
"Okay, forward!" he says, thrilled at the progress he's made.
The mare darts forward and the whole world tilts again and before he knows it he's landed ass over teakettle in the mud again. He rolls to his feet, laughing in spite of himself, looks up to see Jared coming toward him, a smile spreading over his face.
"Okay, so maybe I got a little ahead of myself there," he concedes, but Jared claps him on the shoulder, and he laughs harder, a little giddy with the notion that he might be able to do this after all. "What made you change your mind?"
Jared gives him another one of those looks that suggests he has no idea where Jensen comes up with the weird things that come out of his mouth, but he tries to answer anyway. "You could not see," he says, as though that explains everything.
Jensen resists the urge to drop his face into his hands in utter despair. "What do you mean?"
The frustrated expression on Jared's face is almost comical, but Jensen understands exactly how he feels. Jared's English is a thousand times better than Jensen's Na'vi, but it's still limited, and it's hard enough to communicate the basics without having to go into complicated quasi-metaphysical stuff like what the Na'vi mean by "seeing" something. Norm tried to explain to him on a day when he was being less pissy than usual.
"It's more than just looking, than seeing what's in front of you. When someone says 'Oel ngati kmeie,' they're not just saying 'I see you,' they're saying 'I see into you, I acknowledge you as your true self.' Do you get it?"
"I think so," he'd replied, and at the time he thought he had, the same way he thought he got it the first time he said it to Jared, but now he's not so sure.
When you ride the direhorse, you do not see," Jared says again, as though that explains everything. "You see only through your eyes and not through hers. If you close your eyes, then you learn to see as she does. Then you open your eyes, and you learn to see together. It is like...like you are born blind, but Eywa gives you back your eyes when you are grown."
Jensen thinks about it for a second. "Right. So it's like sensory overload."
"I don't know what that means."
"I was seeing more things than I'm used to seeing all at once."
"Yes," Jared nods enthusiastically, and Jensen can't help but grin, now that they're obviously on the same page about this.
"Okay, I'mma try again," he says, bounces back onto the direhorse's back before Jared so much as has time even to turn around.
He closes his eyes, brings his queue around, feels the now-familiar electrical jolt as he forms the bond with A'lai. The world comes to life in a kaleidoscope of vaguely-familiar colours and scents, subtly different now that he's perceiving them through A'lai's senses instead of his own. This time, though, when he opens his eyes, he's ready. It's strange, still disorienting, but now he thinks he understands. It's not about seeing one or the other, it's about both, about taking what he sees and showing it to the direhorse, showing her what he wants.
"Okay, girl. Go!"
He urges her forward with his knees and his mind, and when she takes off at a canter it feels as though he's flying.
The days start going by increasingly quickly. Jensen spends most of his time trying to keep up with Jared's boundless energy, even in the completely healthy body of his own avatar. Even by Na'vi standards, he quickly realizes, Jared is exceptionally quick and strong and nimble. He's a good head taller than most of them, with broad muscles in his back and shoulders, powerful legs and strong arms. He wields his longbow like it's nothing, can break the back of a coyote with one blow if he has to -though Jensen hasn't seen him do anything of the sort since the night they met, when Jared saved his life.
The flip side, of course, is that Jared seems to have little to no patience or understanding for physical limitations. The Na'vi don't appear to get sick much, as far as Jensen can tell, and with the carbon fibre that naturally reinforces their bones, they don't get injured easily either. The first time Jared throws himself with a maniacal whoop off the top of one of Pandora's enormous trees Jensen just about has a heart attack until he sees that Jared is actually using the huge leaves of another nearby tree to break his fall, tumbling gracefully from one to the next until he reaches the ground. Jensen swallows hard when Jared yells at him to follow, has to force himself not to close his eyes before launching himself into the air. His own fall is a whole lot less graceful than Jared's, leaving him lying in a tangled heap of limbs at the base of the tree, but he's pleasantly surprised to find that he made it all the way down without breaking his neck or any other important limbs.
"So what do you do when you hurt yourself?" he asks later on, when his heart rate has returned to normal. They're sitting on another spiralling branch in a tree maybe five clicks away, which Jared apparently decided to climb on a whim, but which offers a breathtaking view of a deep valley, shrouded in mist.
Jared shrugs, like he doesn't know what the question even means. "We have a healer."
"But you live in a giant tree. I mean, what if the person can't walk anymore?"
"Then they are carried."
"No, I mean, what if they're paralysed? If they can't walk ever again?"
Jared turns his head, expression quizzical. "I have not known this in my village. I suppose we would care for them. Our elders don't leave Home Tree much -they stay in their homes and help with things other than the hunt. With the weaving and tanning and painting." When Jensen stays silent after that, he gives him a shrewd look. "You ask this for a reason?"
"I was just wondering."
"You know someone who is like this," Jared's too insightful for his own good, Jensen has noticed. "Someone who doesn't walk. You say your brother is dead, and so you dreamwalk for him?"
"That's right."
"So your brother isn't the one who doesn't walk."
"No, it's me. I mean, my human body is paralysed from the waist down." It feels strange saying it aloud. When he's human, it's so obvious that it doesn't need to be said, and it's never been relevant when he's been in the link, his psyche housed in a perfectly sound body. Jared doesn't seem perturbed, though, merely curious.
"Is it strange, walking now?"
He shakes his head. "No. It's stranger to go back and not be able to walk. I used to be able to when I was...I mean, I wasn't always a paraplegic."
"I don't know this word. It means that you aren't able to walk?"
Jensen nods. "Right."
Jared thinks about it for a while, which is pretty unusual. Even in the short time Jensen has come to know him, Jared has never been one for over-thinking things, preferring to throw caution to the winds and simply throw himself into the thick of things.
"Is this why you become a Dreamwalker? So that you have a body that is whole?"
"No," he protests, maybe a little too quickly. "I mean, no, not really. I didn't think about that when I signed up. It's just...it's hard to explain. It was meant to be my brother, you know."
"Yes."
"But making a body like this, it's expensive for us. It costs money," he says, knowing that the Na'vi understand the concept of money even if they don't have any of their own. "So they didn't want to, well, waste it, I guess. So they asked me to come, and they're paying me a lot of money to do it, too."
"You do this only for money?"
It's the first time they've had this discussion directly like this. Jensen feels oddly nettled by the idea that his motivations are only mercenary, even if he threw the very same statement in Norm's face before. Hearing it like this, though, it feels cheap.
"Not only for that, but yeah. You don't have that here, but back where I come from, things are hard. There aren't many trees left, there isn't enough food or shelter for everyone. People are poor. My family is, too. They're living on the farm where I grew up, but the soil is contaminated now -they can't grow anything on it anymore and they can't sell it or leave it behind, because they have nowhere else to go. So they're stuck, unless I send back enough money for them to get out."
He can tell Jared doesn't really understand half of what he's saying, and how could he? Sitting here on a tree that's ten times the size of the Ackles' farmhouse, overlooking a thousand similar trees, it's hard to imagine a world in which not only are the trees stunted, diminished versions of these, but in which humans outnumber the trees about a thousand to one. Sometimes Jensen himself has trouble remembering it, remembering why he's here at all. He doesn't remember the last time he went home, saw his parents. He has a vision of his Mama standing out on the dry, cracked ground in front of the farm, hair coming out of her braid in wisps. She gave him a hug that last time, her expression calm and a little sad, wonders if she still looks like that now, all these years later, or if all that time spent living on poisoned ground has aged her prematurely. He rubs at his kneecap with one hand, enjoying the fact that he can feel the touch, that his leg responds to the external stimulus. In a few hours he has to go back, and every day he looks forward to it less.
Jared is still looking at him, staring so intently that it's uncomfortable. "What?"
Jared shakes his head. "I don't see you."
"What do you mean? I'm right here." Jensen doesn't roll his eyes, because he's pretty sure that's a sure-fire recipe for giving offence. He knows what Jared means, but the idea that Jared doesn't think he's real...it makes his gut twist in a way he doesn't like at all.
"No, I mean that I don't see you," Jared repeats with more emphasis. "How can I know who you are when all I see is the body in which you dream walk? It is like becoming friends with a..." he casts about for a word, and fails. "The picture you see on the water's surface."
"A reflection?" Jensen suggests, and gets a perplexed look. "It's the image of yourself when you look into water, or a mirror. Not that you have mirrors, but maybe Grace showed you one?"
"A reflection," Jared agrees. "You see me, but I see only your reflection."
Jensen bites the inside of his cheek, because what is there to say to that? Jared is never going to know the 'real' him, because the 'real' him can't breathe the air out here, and even with a re-breather unit he still wouldn't be able to get around in his wheelchair. The 'real' him is all but useless in his own world, and definitely useless in this one where there's no such thing as political correctness and obligatory access ramps. "We should be getting back," he says finally. "Grace is going to have my head if I don't have my report in by this evening."
Jared nods, seemingly reluctantly, but he gets to his feet, pulls Jensen up by one arm. Jensen gets the feeling he does it just because he can, rather than because he feels that Jensen can't make his way around on his own. He's still not as sure-footed as a born Na'vi, but he's getting the hang of this moon and its strange gravity, and since he hasn't yet managed to kill himself he figures that's probably a good sign. Jensen allows himself one last glance over his shoulder at the sun setting over the valley, then follows Jared back along the tree tops toward home.
Jensen dreams of flying. The dreams had tapered off for a while when he first arrived on Pandora, replaced by the more regular anxiety dreams he was used to having before. Dreams in which he became lost in impenetrable mazes, wandering between walls that shifted and warped. Dreams in which he was being chased or in which he was running after something that grew every more distant. Now, though, while every waking moment is spent either in Jared's company or recording what he did in Jared's company, his sleeping hours are spent soaring high above even the tallest trees on Pandora.
He recognizes the landscapes now. They've always been the same: vast expanses of lush foliage thousands of feet below, dotted with white where the clouds hang lower than their wont. It's a heady feeling, up here so close to the sun. Jensen tilts his head back, eyes closed, letting the warmth of the rays bathe his face in stark contrast to the frigid air at these heights. Up here he's free the way he never was before, not even when he still had his legs, not even when he was still a kid chasing after his brother in the mud of their back yard, not a care in the world. Up here, nothing matters but him and the wind, him and the sun, him and the great bird he's riding.
The realization jolts him out of the dream, bringing him to his senses, drenched in a cold sweat. He sucks in a gulp of air, his chest burning from the effort, and finds himself staring into the morning-sour face of Norm Spellman.
"Breakfast in ten. Grace said if you weren't up in five she'd eat your share."
He nods, brings up a hand to scrub at his face, but Norm doesn't move from where he is.
"Having some interesting dreams, are we?"
Jensen's too out of it to decipher his tone. "Actually, I was dreaming about riding a banshee. I think. When I was driving the avatar, I mean. I was linked to it. Bonded to it."
"Well, aren't you special."
"Fuck you, Spellman," he says without any heat behind the words.
He's getting tired of Norm's pissiness, but there's not much he can do about it right now, so he just pushes himself upright, careful not to crack his skull on the bunk above him where Norm spends about half his nights. Jensen's pretty sure that he spends the other half of those nights in Trudy's bunk, but he finds he doesn't actually care all that much. Trudy's a good-looking girl, and he likes her, and if she wants to bed down with Norm, well, that's her decision. It's not like there are all that many opportunities to have sex around here, and the majority of the guys are either military or former military. He figures Trudy might want something a little different than what ninety percent of the guys in this place are able to offer her, and when he's not being an asshole Norm is actually a pretty nice guy and educated to boot.
"How about you dream a way of getting the Na'vi to cooperate with Grace again? Actually do something useful for once instead of screwing around out there. Or in here, for that matter."
"Excuse me?" Jensen pauses in the middle of moving his legs off the side of his bed, leans on both hands in order to look at Norm. "Just what the hell is your problem, Spellman?"
"You're my problem. The Na'vi obviously think they can use you for something, but it would be nice if you acted in good faith for just one day, and tried to help out our cause too. Instead all you're doing is dicking around. What do you think you're supposed to be doing out there?"
"It's way too early for this, and Jensen doesn't even have a cup of coffee to his name yet. "I'm supposed to be learning how to be like them."
"Well, you can't!" Norm snaps. "And the sooner you realize that, the better for all of us! Jesus Christ, Jensen, don't you get it? You're not here to live out your noble savage fantasies. You're not going to meet fucking Pocahontas and learn how to be one with the fucking forest! The Na'vi have a complex society, and all you're doing is waiting for Ìla'rey to show you how to bow hunt."
"The hell?" Jensen mutters. He has no idea where this is coming from. "Seriously, what crawled up your ass and died this morning, Spellman? You know what, never mind. Since you're obviously the expert on what I should be doing, why don't you give me your educated opinion? I'll even do you the courtesy of asking for it, since you're obviously dying to give it to me anyway."
Norm stalks toward the door, which would be more impressive if it took more than two steps to get there, then turns back. "You still don't get it. This isn't about you. It's not about me, either, for that matter. We're here for a reason, Jensen, and that reason is to learn whatever it is that the Na'vi have going on that's allowing them to thrive on this planet."
"I hate to break it to you, but that's not why I'm here."
Norm folds his arms over his chest. "You shock me. I suppose you're going to remind me how you're here for the money?"
He should have figured he'd get his own words thrown back at him eventually. "No, asswipe. The mission is to persuade the Na'vi to help us with the mining projects, so we can damned well help the billions of people we left back home. Or have you forgotten them, now that you live with only a few dozen humans?" Jensen spits, memories of his parents flashing through his mind. "Easy enough not to think of all of those people starving to death, or wasting away because the groundwater's been poisoned for so long. Or the ones packed ten to a room in government housing, sharing their food stamps because there isn't enough to go around. Did you forget about them?"
Norm has the grace to flush. "Of course not! But you can't tell me that saving our planet is worth destroying this one! You have no idea what digging under Home Tree could do to this place! You're too busy playing at hunter to look at it from a scientific point of view, to figure out what the repercussions might be."
"I'm not a scientist."
"And that's your problem right there. You're nothing but a soldier, a grunt who follows orders. You've got no capacity for critical thought, and that's what's needed here! That's why the program hired your brother and not you. They wanted a mind, not a gun. News flash: just because you're a convenient fuck for the boss―"
"You boys just about done with this little display of testosterone?" Grace asks drily from just outside the doorway, and Norm jumps guiltily.
"Uh, you heard that?"
"Dude, the Na'vi heard that," Jensen says tiredly, hauling himself into his chair with a wince. "This place is tiny and, no offence, but your voice carries."
"Jensen, go get something to eat," Grace says carefully. "And eat all of it, you're losing too much weight for my liking. Norm, stick around. You and I are going to have a chat."
Norm is apparently feeling suicidal, because he actually opens his mouth to protest. "Look, if this is going to be a talk about how the Na'vi picked Ackles as their super-special human envoy and that I need to play nice―"
Grace arches an eyebrow at him before interrupting. "How about you don't presume to know what I want to talk to you about and do what I say?"
Jensen can't help but grin at that, feeling weirdly vindicated. Before he can so much as wheel himself out the door, though, Grace turns on him. "Quit smirking, Jensen. You're not getting off that easily, either. When you get back tonight, you and I are going to be going over your mission protocols. Like it or not, Norm made a good point. And go eat, for Christ's sake."
"Got it. Although, for the record I resent being labelled a 'convenient fuck.' I am way better than that." He wheels himself into the tiny kitchen area where Trudy is pulling some sort of egg wrap thing out of the microwave. She slides the plate in front of him, and he stares at the congealed mess with revulsion.
"Hey," Trudy shrugs, "I just heated it up, don't shoot the messenger. You gotta eat the whole thing, though, doc's orders."
"I'm gonna puke if I eat that. The Na'vi food is way better than this, even if it looks weird."
"Except we can't eat the Na'vi food, or most of it, anyway, and you can't eat only when you're driving your avatar, because your human body will waste away and die. So quit whining and don't puke. We don't have an unlimited supply of this stuff, you know. Hey," she bends over the table to look at him. "You okay? You can't let Norm get to you. He's just...he cares about his job, same as you; he just has a different way of thinking about it."
He forces a smile. "It's not that. I just have a headache from him going on at me before I had any coffee this morning."
It's more than a headache, but he doesn't see how that's relevant to his breakfast, and it's not like Trudy needs to know he's feeling off. He suppresses a small shiver, takes a bite of his egg wrap, swallows, manages not to throw up. The whole thing churns uncomfortably in his stomach when he's done, but it stays down, and the cup of instant coffee Trudy hands him afterward goes a long way to making him feel better.
By the time he's settling down on the link bed he's convinced himself that he's not actually feeling so bad anymore. Norm is the one setting up his link, expression mutinous, and Jensen figures Grace must have read him the riot act-quietly. He doesn't look at Jensen, keeps his eyes on the vital signs monitor, lips pressed together in a thin line.
"You feeling okay?" he asks, but the question is perfunctory, like he's not really expecting an answer, and Jensen doesn't see why he should give him extra ammunition in his own private war against everything Ackles today.
"I'm just dandy."
"Okay, then. Buckle up, cowboy, and try to stay in the saddle this time."
Jensen falls.
On a whim, Jensen decides to tell Jared about the dream he had about riding one of the banshees. Instead of laughing at him the way he expected, though, Jared simply looks a little pensive. Abruptly he stands, interrupting the last of their breakfast.
"Come, Jensen, I show you," he says instead.
"Show me what?"
"Come and I show you."
"Right. I really should know better than to ask questions like that," Jensen mutters under his breath, but he follows Jared's lead.
They leave Home Tree almost immediately, but instead of heading down through the spiralling inner columns of the tree Jared leads him up into the thick, twisting branches. The light which filters in so thinly near the ground is much brighter up here, bathing the trees in a healthy glow, the leaves tilting upward toward the sun's rays as though simply drinking in the light. The tree trunk is too narrow up here to move within it, but the branches grow outward in a spiral, like the spokes of a wheel, making it easy to climb ever higher. Finally Jared stops by a platform that looks man-made, composed of thick wood and intricately-woven vines and branches.
"Wait," he says simply, then turns his face up toward the last few branches above them, still thick enough to make the sunlight dapple on the surface of the platform, and utters a series of shrill, barking cries.
"What―" Jensen starts, but almost immediately there's an answering cry along with a booming sound like a parachute unfurling, or like the cracking of the sails on an old-fashioned ship before a great wind, and a huge banshee comes to land on the platform less than a foot away from where Jared is standing.
The creature is astounding up close. Jensen has seen one or two from afar, seen pictures of them in the books, but never from so close. It stares at Jensen with one glittering, beady eye, and beats its wings furiously in the air as Jared reaches up to stroke its lizard-like head, reaching into the pouch on his belt for a piece of dried meat. Jensen catches sight of a row of sharp, wicked-looking teeth as it snatches the meat from Jared's hand and gulps it down, tilting its head back to allow the morsel to slide down its gullet more easily.
"Holy shit," Jensen breathes, and Jared starts, as though he'd forgotten he was there.
"Do not look her in eye," he warns, and Jensen immediately drops his gaze. If there's one thing he's learned here, it's that not paying attention to what the Na'vi have to say about the animals will pretty much directly result in bodily harm to him.
Still, he finds his eye drawn to the beautiful, iridescent scales that cover the banshee's body, gleaming in the morning light, lets his gaze travel along the arch of its neck. Jared is stroking the lithe body with one large hand, murmuring under his breath. Then he grasps the end of his queue, forms the bond with the banshee like it's second-nature, right as Jensen watches. Jensen is almost tempted to look away, as though this is something too intimate to be watched, but Jared doesn't appear self-conscious about it. There's a leathery rustling sound from somewhere to the side, and suddenly Jensen is aware that there are banshees all around, almost entirely camouflaged among the foliage. He shivers.
"So, is this a nest?"
"No. Meikran nest high up, on the rocks. This is..." Jared searches for a word, comes up empty. "The Omaticaya ride these, and so they stay here."
"An eyrie." Jensen surprises himself by knowing the word, wonders where the hell he picked it up. Probably Tommy at some point.
Jared shrugs, unable to confirm the word. "Ikran is not horse," he says instead. "Once tsaheylu is made, ikran will fly only with one hunter, until the end of life."
"The hunter's life, or the banshee's?"
"The ikran's life."
"What happens if the hunter dies first?" It's morbid, but he's curious.
"The ikran is set free to return to the mountains. She will not bond with another." Jared keeps stroking the banshee's neck for a moment longer, then pulls away, releasing her from the bond and letting her fly away in a loud flapping of wings. "When you become taronyu -hunter- you must choose your own ikran, and she will choose you. This is how it is done."
"And when's that?"
"When you are ready."
"And how do you know when you're ready?"
Jared smiles at him. "When your teacher tells you. Come, Jensen. I have something else to show you."
And with that he turns and disappears into the forest, leaving Jensen to either keep up or be left behind.
Jared leads him on the fastest foot chase Jensen has ever had to endure, jumping from tree to tree and ignoring all of Jensen's cries to slow down, already. Then with a wordless cry of joy he leaps into the air, arms akimbo, and plunges headfirst off what looks to Jensen like it might just be the edge of the world. This is a test, he barely has time to think before he's following Jared over the edge with a scream of terror that turns into one of exhilaration as he finally catches sight of the huge waterfall roaring below him.
He hits the deep pool below with a resounding splash, plunges into the crystalline water. For a moment he loses all sense of direction, thrashes wildly until he breaks the surface with a whooping gasp, trying desperately to drag air into his lungs. The next thing he knows he's back under the water again, being held down by arms much larger and stronger than his own. When he emerges again, coughing and choking, Jared is laughing wildly, and Jensen, his initial panic fading, finds himself grinning right back.
"Asshole!" he growls, and throws himself at Jared, doing his best to pin him and give him a taste of his own medicine.
They roll and thrash under the waterfall, hair coming loose from their queues, shed their clothing after a few moments. Jensen has never seen Jared this way before, like nothing more than an overgrown kid, nothing of the slightly resentful man who's been reluctantly showing him the ways of the Na'vi. It takes a moment for Jensen to work up to following Jared's lead, but eventually he strips away his clothing, tosses it heedlessly toward the bank until there's nothing between him and the crystalline water.
Jared laughs, leads him on a dizzying chase through the water, ducking in and out of the waterfall and only breaking the surface of the water when he absolutely has to come up for air. He's beautiful like this, Jensen thinks in spite of himself when they pause to catch their breath, with rivulets of water streaming over his skin, and suddenly Jensen wants nothing more than to just lean over and lick the drops away. Jared is staring at him too, and for a second Jensen is tempted to act on the insane thought. Then a bird swoops over the pool with a loud cry, and the moment is broken. Jared laughs again, more quietly, and leads them both onto the bank where their clothes are strewn all over the place. His hair has come entirely free from its braid and is plastered to his shoulders. He looks younger, wilder, a little more carefree than Jensen has ever seen him.
"There is room for play as well as work," he answers Jensen's unanswered question as he pulls himself from the water ahead of him, giving Jensen a very good view of his muscled ass and legs. He turns to pull Jensen from the water, apparently completely unconcerned by the fact they're both naked as the day is long. Jensen forces himself not to squirm as Jared's eyes rake him up and down.
"You should make your tswin to be tied again," he says a little haltingly, brushing the hair back from where it's clinging to Jensen's neck. Jensen doesn't bother correcting his grammar this time, too startled by the sensation of Jared's fingers against his skin. "It is not good for you to be unprotected."
"Oh, right," he reaches back, starts tugging a little awkwardly at his hair. It's not like he's ever bothered to learn the art of braiding, what with the Number 1 buzz cut being the hairstyle he's favoured for years. Even when he was a kid his hair was never more than a couple of inches long.
He struggles for a little longer until Jared gives an amused huff and pulls him closer by one shoulder. "Do you want me to help?" he asks, looking uncharacteristically self-conscious.
Jensen rolls his eyes at his own ineptitude. "If you don't mind. I'm no good at this. Where I come from guys don't have long hair. At least, not soldiers."
"Sit," Jared instructs him.
He kneels behind Jensen on the damp grass, the sun slowly drying the droplets of water from their skin. For a moment he hesitates, then very gently begins to tease out the worst of the knots in Jensen's hair with his fingers, smoothing it down his back. His touch is delicate, but it doesn't prevent Jensen from shivering a little every time his fingers come near the long exposed bundle of nerves that's usually protected by his braid. Jared gathers both the hair and the tswin into his large hands, begins the simple process of binding it again, and Jensen digs his fingers into the ground, a little surprised when he realizes that the whole process has become more than a little arousing, with Jared's strong hands working the individual strands of hair and brushing against his scalp, tugging and moulding. Jared seems intent on his work, though, or if he's noticed Jensen's sudden little problem he doesn't say anything. When he's done he draws away, but Jensen catches him by the wrist.
"Yours needs some work too," he points out, glad that he's gotten himself more under control by then.
Jared swallows, nods, and Jensen wonders if maybe he wasn't wrong to read something else into this. He switches positions with him, kneeling in the soft grass of the riverbank, does his best to mimic what Jared was doing before. It's harder than it looks, even doing it for someone else, and after a few minutes his back starts to protest and he's pretty sure one foot is falling asleep, but he wouldn't trade this for the world. Jared is pliant under his hands, fully relaxed and trusting for the first time since they've spent time together, which only serves to reinforce the gap that existed between them before. He tries to be as gentle as possible when he finally begins braiding the hair around Jared's tswin, acutely aware now of just how sensitive it is, finds himself wondering if Jared is having the same reaction as he did. He's too afraid to look, although he's not sure if he's afraid that Jared is aroused, or that he isn't.
"All done," he says softly, letting Jared's braid fall against his back. He lets his hand linger on Jared's shoulder, though, brushes his fingers softly against the ridges of bone on Jared's spine, and is rewarded with a full-body shudder.
All at once Jared twists where he's sitting and in one sinuous motion is face-to-face with Jensen, their faces inches apart, and Jensen has to force himself not to blink or look away from those huge cat-like eyes that seem to be boring directly into his soul. He swallows hard.
"Jared?" his voice comes out thin, his throat closing up.
"I don't see you," Jared murmurs, bringing up a hand to stroke Jensen's jaw. "How do I know if this is real?"
"I'm here, aren't I?" Jensen objects quietly. "Why does it matter what my body looks like, as long as my mind is the same?"
Jared kisses him. It's tentative at first, hesitant, just a brush of lips, but the sensation is electrifying. Jensen pushes forward, has to grab onto Jared's shoulders to keep his balance, finds that his tail has moved to wrap itself around Jared's waist without his even having to think about it, that Jared's tail has done exactly the same thing. When Jared doesn't seem like he's going to do anything more than this, Jensen pushes again, licks at his lips, gently encouraging Jared to let him in. Their tongues meet as Jared's lips part, and Jensen tastes fruit whose name he doesn't know, the texture of Jared's mouth both alien and familiar, warm and welcoming and oh-so-right that he doesn't bother to suppress the small moan of pleasure that builds in his throat. After a moment, though, Jared breaks the kiss, pulling back, eyes wide, his expression suddenly uncertain.
Jensen swallows again. "Uh, I take it you don't usually do that?" For the first time it occurs to him that he knows absolutely nothing about Na'vi sexuality, that maybe they don't do the whole sex-between-people-of-the-same-sex thing. He might have just unwittingly caused a freaking diplomatic incident, except that he's pretty sure he's not the one who initiated this kiss.
Jared's hand is still on his jaw, his tail still around Jensen's waist, the tip twitching. "I don't understand your question. Was this not...do you not want this?"
"Oh, no, God, no it's not that. I just... uh." It's weird, having this conversation when he can still feel Jared's breath on his face. "I didn't think you, uh, were into guys."
"I don't understand what you're saying."
This is getting frustrating. So much for euphemisms. "I mean, I thought that the Na'vi, you know, uh, that love and sex was maybe only between a man and a woman."
"Oh." Jared stops to consider this. "Is this how it is with the Sky People?"
Jensen shakes his head. "No. I mean, yes, mostly, but some of us do it a little differently. I just thought maybe you didn't, and I thought maybe I offended you."
Jared laughs, and his breath is sweet and warm again on Jensen's face. "I am the one who kissed you, Jensen."
Jensen grins, pulls back a little and rubs the back of his neck with his palm. His heart is thumping loudly in his chest. "Well, you wouldn't be the first guy to act on impulse and regret it later. I mean, what if I was corrupting an entire alien race? Grace would hand me my ass." For a split-second he wonders if he should be feeling guilty about Grace for a whole other reason, but it's not like she's been demanding roses or a lifetime commitment from him. Hell, they've had sex less than a handful of times, and while it's been good, it hasn't exactly been the most connected he's ever felt to someone. He suspects it's the same for her.
"I don't know most of these things that you say, even though I know the words," Jared screws up his nose in a way that makes Jensen want to kiss him even more soundly than before. Instead he just laughs and lets himself fall back onto the grassy bank with a contented sigh.
"It's okay. I don't understand myself most of the time."
Jared matches his laugh and lies next to him. "Maybe that is something we should work on. If you don't understand yourself, what hope do I have of learning?"
It's beautiful like this, peaceful. Jensen lies very still, letting the sun's rays soak into his skin, basking in the warmth of its glow and Jared's presence. It's easy, like this, to forget about everything that's waiting for him at the end of the day, the cold, sterile environment of the outpost. Eventually, though, the afternoon stretches out, and before the sun can sink too low in the sky, Jared stands up. "We should go back. The water still on our clothes will dry as we walk."
"Right." Jensen is still giddy, light-headed after lying in the sun. He barely notices the path they take to head back toward Home Tree, his heart skidding in his chest, his thoughts whirling so fast it almost takes his breath away. It's only when he stumbles over a protruding root and nearly falls that he realizes that he's actually physically dizzy. Jared turns, his expression suddenly worried.
"Jensen?"
He's never been clumsy in this body. Maybe not as nimble as Jared, but never uncoordinated. Jensen stares uncomprehendingly at his hands, has the dizzying sensation of falling even though he knows everything around him is still. He opens his mouth, finds that words are almost beyond him. All around there are flashes of brightly-coloured lights, sparking and swirling, and he barely has time to formulate one phrase before everything spirals out of control and he falls into darkness.
"Something's wrong..."
Part IIIa