Chapter Text
November 4th, 2172 – Neteyam’s Kelku, Pandora
Lying in the hammock of his kelku, Neteyam watched his wife sleep peacefully against him, her breath softly brushing his skin—reassuring him that this wasn’t a dream, that she was truly alive, safe in his arms. The past days had been as brutal for her as they had for him. He had almost lost her—more than once, in every imaginable way. He couldn’t help but blame himself. If only he hadn’t tried to stop her from returning to Earth…
He exhaled slowly, the sorrow heavy in his chest as the memory replayed behind his eyes. That day, she was standing in the shuttle in her human form, offering him a gentle smile—and a second later, she was lying on the floor, blood pouring from her abdomen, a bullet hole shattered in the glass behind her. Neteyam had spun around, ready to strike whoever had fired, but there was no one in sight. The RDA sniper had been perfectly concealed.
In a rush, Niels had thrown on a mask and worked to land the shuttle as fast as possible while his copilot tried to stabilize Sansa—placing an oxygen mask on her face and attempting to control the bleeding. Once they landed, Neteyam had tried to reach her, but Niels had stopped him, insisting they needed space to work. Neteyam didn’t listen. Sansa was his wife, and she was dying. He couldn’t just stand back.
He joined the two men, helping control the bleeding. When Niels gave the signal, Neteyam carried her fragile human body to headquarters, screaming for help while she moaned in agony. People rushed to them in seconds. As they examined her wound, they immediately knew what needed to be done—but as they worked, they were haunted by her pleas for them to stop, her screams of pain unbearable to hear. Neteyam felt like he was losing his mind watching her suffer.
Norman arrived, trying to help, but one look at the wound told him the truth: there was nothing they could do here. Surgery was her only chance—and that was a luxury they didn’t have. The memory of Grace haunted him. They had tried everything, but waited too long. It had cost the biologist her life. Norman wouldn’t make that mistake again. He immediately ordered them to take her to the village.
Neteyam was the first to leave, riding his ikran. Others followed by air, carrying Sansa toward the Tree of Souls. Lun’oat and Ki’eila, still with his grandmother Mo’at, panicked when they saw Neteyam covered in blood. Choking on sobs, he begged Mo’at to save her.
Mo’at knew there was only one way to help the young woman—and it wasn’t a choice Sansa would want. But there was no other option. Better to see her live in her avatar body forever than to lose her completely.
Lun’oat gathered the people at the Tree of Souls in record time. Norman was the one granted the honor of carrying Sansa to the sacred place—his first time ever getting so close. Something broke in the biologist’s heart when he saw the realization in her eyes. She knew what was about to happen. She let out a single sob but didn’t resist.
The ceremony began quickly. Neteyam remained by her side the entire time, ignoring the hateful glares from Eleyana, who realized he had chosen the “traitor.” He didn’t care. His wife might die—Eleyana’s broken heart could wait.
When Sansa’s avatar’s eyes opened—bright blue and alive—Neteyam felt more joy and relief than ever before. He pulled her into his arms as Ki’eila sobbed in happiness. Only after a moment did he realize Sansa was crying, too. Gently pulling back, he let her approach her former human body—still warm, still wounded, now lifeless. She stroked her old hair, tears streaming down her cheeks as Eywa reclaimed her former shell. She leaned in, kissing its cheek one last time, before letting it go forever. Neteyam held her as she wept.
After that, the idea of her returning to Earth was impossible. And though it might seem horrible, Neteyam couldn’t help but feel grateful. Even after everything—even though she’d nearly died, even though she might never see her family again—he was glad. Glad he would spend every day of his life by her side, showing her Pandora’s wonders, fighting with her, building a family.
Maybe it made him the worst Na’vi on Pandora—but he didn’t care. Eywa had given him another chance. A life with her, when he’d thought all was lost.
And despite the guilt, happiness was stronger than anything else.
He tightened his arms around her, kissed her shoulder, and pulled her closer. Whatever their future held, he knew they could face it—together.