Sully family x eldest daughter reader
Part 51 > Part 52 > Part 53
(Y/n) woke with cold against her back and water against her cheek.
For a few seconds she could not understand where she was.
Metal groaned somewhere above her and the whole ship shuddered beneath her body, but she could not move properly, could not get her arms beneath herself, could not push up no matter how hard she tried.
Then she felt the weight. Heavy. Crushing.
Something was pinning her down across her back and legs, forcing her stomach against the wet floor, trapping her beneath twisted metal while water crept higher around her.
She shoved one hand against the floor and tried to push herself up, her muscles straining, shoulder burning, ribs screaming as she fought against the weight holding her down.
She twisted, trying to drag one leg free, but the metal only shifted enough to grind painfully against her back. Something sharp stabbed into her shoulder and she cried out, the sound echoing through the flooded space before breaking into a gasp.
Panic hit so hard she nearly choked on it. She thrashed, clawing at the floor, trying to find anything to grip, anything to pull herself forward with, but the metal held her down and the water kept rising around her face. It was already at her jaw. Already lapping against her mouth when the ship tilted.
Her heart started hammering so violently it hurt.
“Dad!” she called before she could stop herself.
The word tore out of her in a broken sob. It ripped through her throat raw and desperate, dragged out by the rising water and the crushing weight on her back, by the choking panic clawing up her chest as she fought for air she could barely reach.
“Dad!” she cried again, louder this time, straining against the metal until pain flashed white behind her eyes.
She sobbed once, sharp and frightened, the sound tearing out of her as the cold water crept higher, brushing against her lips and threatening to spill into her mouth.
Panic clawed up her throat as she realized how little space she had left, how every breath had to be forced through trembling lungs while her neck strained painfully just to keep her face above the surface.
Her muscles were already shaking from the effort, her arms useless beneath her, her body pinned and helpless as the water kept rising, inch by inch.
She tried to drag in another breath, but it came out broken and uneven, fear tightening her chest as she imagined the moment she wouldn’t be able to lift her head high enough anymore.
She let out another sob, her body trembling violently as the icy water soaked through her, the cold biting deep into her bones as fear twisted in her chest—she just wanted her dad.
She could feel the water slowly clawing its way up, it crept higher against her skin, and a broken whimper slipped past her lips. She knew what was coming—knew that soon there would be nowhere left to breathe, nowhere left to go—and no matter how hard she fought, she couldn’t escape.
For a second she thought she had imagined it.
Then she heard it again, distant.
A sob broke out of her chest before she could stop it, relief and fear crashing together so hard she nearly lost the little control she had left.
“Dad!” she screamed, forcing her head higher as the water surged around her chin.
The ship groaned again and the water rushed up faster, cold spilling into her mouth. She spluttered, coughing and twisting, her fingers scraping uselessly over the floor as she tried to lift herself higher.
“Daddy!” she screamed in a sob, the word breaking apart as water surged into her mouth, choking her cry and stealing the air from her lungs.
Her breathing broke apart.
The water touched her lips again.
She lifted her head as high as she could, neck straining, every muscle trembling with the effort, but it still was not enough.
“Dad!” she cried, the word coming out wet and terrified as the water rose around her mouth. “Dad, please!”
(Y/n) was losing the fight to breathe.
The water surged higher, swallowing her chin, her mouth, forcing her to jerk her head back as far as she could just to keep her nose above the surface. Her neck screamed with the strain, muscles trembling violently, but she could not lower it—not even for a second.
Her breaths came in broken, panicked gasps.
The water lapped at her lips again and she choked, coughing hard as it slipped into her mouth. It burned going down and she gagged, trying to spit it out, but there was nowhere for it to go.
Her whole body started shaking.
Bone-deep, uncontrollable, rattling that made her teeth chatter and her limbs twitch uselessly beneath the weight pinning her down.
“I can’t—” she gasped, voice cracking apart as another wave of water surged over her mouth. “I can’t—!”
Her chest seized, lungs screaming as she tried to drag in air that wasn’t there. Every breath felt smaller than the last, thinner, like the space around her was closing in.
The thought hit her hard and fast and absolute.
Her eyes burned, tears spilling freely now, mixing with the seawater as they ran down her face. She couldn’t even wipe them away. Couldn’t move. Couldn’t do anything but lie there and feel the water take more and more of her.
“I don’t wanna die,” she sobbed, the words breaking apart as her voice shook violently. “Please—please—”
Her head slipped for a second.
Water rushed over her nose.
She inhaled sharply on instinct and choked, coughing violently as she forced her face back up, panic exploding through her chest so hard it made her vision blur.
“Dad!” she screamed again, voice raw and desperate, barely more than a broken cry now. “Dad, please, where are you!”
Her body jerked uselessly against the metal, every muscle straining, but she couldn’t move. Couldn’t free herself. Couldn’t stop the water from rising.
Every breath was a fight.
Every second felt like it might be her last.
Jake threw Quaritch off him with a snarl that tore from somewhere deep in his chest.
Quaritch hit the wall hard, stunned for a second, and Jake did not waste it. He dropped down into the lower level of the flooding ship, landing badly in the rising water but barely feeling the impact as he pushed forward, following the sound of his daughter’s cries.
“Dad! Dad, please, where are you!”
Her voice echoed through the metal around him, broken and terrified, and Jake felt his chest tighten so hard it almost stopped him.
“(Y/n)!” he called, water splashing around his legs as he moved faster. “Keep talking, pumpkin, keep talking!”
He turned toward the sound and found her.
For a second his whole body froze.
She was pinned on her stomach beneath a huge chunk of twisted metal, her back and legs trapped under it while the water rose around her face. Her arms were braced uselessly against the floor, trembling from the effort of keeping her head up, and every breath she dragged in looked like it hurt.
“Dad!” she sobbed when she saw him. “I can’t get up.”
“I’m here, pumpkin, I’m here,” Jake said, dropping to his knees beside her so fast the water splashed up around them. “I got you.”
He shoved both hands beneath the edge of the metal and lifted.
He set his feet, strained harder, muscles burning as the metal groaned beneath his hands, but it barely moved. Not enough. Not even close.
Her breathing hitched harder, water brushing her lips. “Dad—”
“You just keep your head above water,” he said, voice tight as he tried to keep panic out of it. “That’s it. Keep your head up.”
“I’m trying,” she gasped.
“I know, baby girl, I know.”
He could see it in the shaking of her arms, in the strain of her neck, in the way her face twisted every time the ship shifted and the metal dug deeper into her. She was fighting with everything she had, and it still wasn’t enough.
He got his shoulder under it this time and heaved upward with a rough grunt, feeling the metal shift just slightly, feeling hope spark in his chest for half a second before his daughter screamed.
“Ah—ow, ow, ow, ow—ahhh!”
Jake dropped it back down at once, his heart lurching. “Okay, okay, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”
He scrambled around the side, hands moving over the metal, searching, trying to understand what was holding her down, and then he saw it. A jagged piece had punched down close to her shoulder and back, not clean through, not enough to kill her outright, but enough that lifting the metal wrong would tear into her.
He did not have the strength to lift it clean off her.
Not without hurting her worse.
“Dad,” she coughed, water spilling into her mouth as she tried to breathe around it. “Please.”
Jake moved back to her side and slid one hand beneath her cheek, helping lift her head higher as the water surged around them. “I got you. I got you, pumpkin.”
The fear in her eyes nearly broke him.
The daughter who had charged a whaling ship and fought Quaritch with her bare hands.
She was staring at him like a scared child because the water was rising and he could not get the metal off her.
A small sound slipped out of her, a frightened little whine she tried to swallow back, and Jake felt something tear open inside him.
“No, no, look at me,” he said quickly, cupping her face as best he could. “You look at me. Keep your head up. That’s it. I’m gonna get you out of here.”
Her breaths came too fast, spluttering when water touched her lips again.
Jake looked around wildly.
There had to be something.
Anything he could use to lever the metal up.
Then Quaritch hit him from behind.
Jake slammed into the water and rolled, barely getting his arms up before Quaritch came down on him.
Jake twisted under Quaritch and drove an elbow into his ribs, shoving him off enough to get to his feet. The ship groaned around them, tilting harder now, the water rushing in faster as the whole place started to roll.
They crashed into the wall, water slamming against their legs as the floor shifted beneath them. Jake grabbed him by the vest and drove his fist into Quaritch’s jaw, then again, trying to force him back, trying to end it quickly, but Quaritch caught his arm and rammed him into the railing.
(Y/n) cried out behind them.
Jake’s head snapped toward her.
The ship had tilted further, and the metal trapping her had begun to slide.
The metal dragged across the floor with a grinding shriek and (Y/n) screamed, a raw sound of pain that went straight through him.
He turned back to Quaritch, but Quaritch was already there, slamming a fist across his cheek. Jake staggered, caught himself on the wall, and came back with everything he had. He hit Quaritch in the throat, then the ribs, then drove him backward through the rising water as the ship continued to roll.
The whole world was moving now.
Water rushed from one side of the corridor to the other, dragging debris with it. Loose tools and broken metal slid across the floor, clanging against the walls as the ship leaned harder. Jake slipped, caught himself, shoved Quaritch back, but every second he was fighting him was another second his daughter was trapped beneath that metal.
“Dad!” she cried again, weaker now, choked by water.
He heard the water in her voice.
He heard her running out of time.
Quaritch grabbed him by the throat and drove him down into the water.
Jake fought under him, hands closing around Quaritch’s wrist as his own lungs burned.
He kicked hard, twisting sideways, and broke the hold. They surfaced together, gasping, and Jake slammed his head into Quaritch’s face before throwing a punch that sent him stumbling into the wall.
The floor went out from under them.
Jake tried to grab for something, anything, but the water surged across the corridor and lifted him off his feet. Quaritch slammed into him from the side and both of them were thrown backward as the ship tipped, the world turning sideways around them.
He saw her for one terrible second.
Then the ship rolled further and the rising water swallowed the corridor between them.
Then he and Quaritch were thrown into the water.
The ship rolled and the metal shifted.
The weight was still there, still crushing her, still pressing the air from her lungs as water rushed over her mouth and nose, and then the whole floor tilted beneath her and the metal groaned.
Her body dropped with it.
Pain tore through her back as the jagged edge scraped free and she cried out, but the sound vanished into water as the ship rolled harder and the metal finally slid off her, dragging across her shoulder before crashing down somewhere beside her.
(Y/n) shoved herself up with shaking arms, but the water swallowed her before she could get her feet under her. The corridor had turned sideways around her, the whole ship shifting and sinking, and she kicked hard, lungs burning as she pushed toward what looked like open space.
Loose tools, broken panels, pieces of machinery, cables trailing through the water like vines.
She grabbed at a railing and pulled herself forward, forcing her body to move even as every muscle shook. Her back screamed. Her shoulder burned. Her chest hurt from all the water she had swallowed.
That was all that mattered.
She swam past the dark shape of a sinking sub as it dropped nose-first into the depths of the ship. She tried to push around it, kicking harder, but something caught her ankle.
Her body jerked backward.
She twisted and looked down.
A wire cord tangled around her leg, wrapped tight, connected to the sinking sub as it dragged everything with it.
(Y/n) grabbed at it with both hands, trying to pull it loose, fingers slipping against the wet cord. It tightened instead, biting hard into her skin as the sub sank lower and pulled her down with it.
Her lungs were already burning.
She clawed at the cable again, nails scraping, hands shaking as her body was dragged deeper through the tilted corridor. Something struck her back from above, hard enough to knock what little air she had left from her chest in a stream of bubbles.
Pain flashed through her body.
The debris kept pushing her down.
A heavy panel pinned across her back and shoulder, not as heavy as the first piece of metal but enough to force her lower, trapping her between sinking wreckage and the cable dragging at her leg.
She shoved at the panel, kicked at the cord, twisted until pain tore up her side, trying to squeeze free as the water pressed around her from every direction.
Her mouth opened on instinct and water rushed in.
She choked, body convulsing as she tried to cough underwater, tried to stop herself, tried to hold on to the last bit of air that was already gone.
Suddenly the darkness of the water became the pale dark walls of a room.
It hit her all at once—violent, disorienting, ripping through her mind like the ship tearing apart around her.
Her body didn’t know the difference anymore.
She was back tin that room, strapped down, lungs burning as something forced air into her that she couldn’t take, couldn’t control. Cuffs holding her still.
The panic clawing up her throat as she tried to breathe and couldn’t—couldn’t—
Her body reacted before her mind could catch up.
Her arms flung out, striking the debris around her, her legs kicking violently against the cable wrapped around her ankle. She twisted against the panel pinning her down, scraping her back raw as she tried to wrench herself free.
Her mind screamed it, over and over, louder than the groaning metal, louder than the rushing water.
Her body convulsed as she tried to inhale, tried to force air into lungs that filled only with water. The sensation overlapped—air that burned, water that drowned—until she couldn’t tell which was real anymore.
Her hands clawed at nothing.
At the cable, at the panel, at the water itself like she could tear it away from her face.
Her movements only made it worse.
The debris shifted, pressing harder into her back.
Her thrashing burned through what little strength she had left, draining her faster, faster—
Her body wouldn’t let her.
Her mind was trapped, turning the panic into something unbearable.
Her chest spasmed violently.
Her vision fractured, flickering between now and then—dark water, bright lights, hands, metal, nothing making sense.
Her arms slowed, movements jerking and uncoordinated as exhaustion crashed into her all at once.
Her thrashing turned to trembling.
Then to small, desperate movements.
Her hands found the cord and pulled, but her fingers did not close properly. They felt numb. Heavy. Useless.
She thought of her father, his hand under her cheek, holding her head above water.
A sob tried to rise in her chest, but there was no air left for it.
Her body barely listened.
The cable dragged tighter.
The panel pressed harder.
Her lungs screamed until the screaming turned dull, until the panic started to feel strange and distant, until her limbs stopped thrashing and only twitched weakly against the water.
She did not want to stop fighting.
She tried to tell herself to move.
But her body was so tired.
Her hand slipped from the cable.
Bubbles drifted from her mouth.
Her eyes fluttered, half-open, staring up through the wreckage toward the dim light above.
Then her strength gave out.
Her body went still beneath the sinking debris as the ship groaned around her, dragged down into the dark with the sub and the broken pieces of the wreck.
Underwater, Jake got Quaritch in a headlock and held on with everything he had left.
Quaritch thrashed hard at first, elbowing back into Jake’s ribs, clawing at his forearm, trying to wrench free, but Jake only locked it tighter. His bicep burned. His lungs were already screaming. His vision was starting to pulse at the edges from the lack of air and the blood pounding in his skull, but he did not let go.
Not with his daughter somewhere in this ship.
Quaritch’s movements got weaker.
Then his body finally went slack in Jake’s arms.
Jake held on another second anyway, just to be sure, jaw clenched so tight it hurt, before he shoved him away. Quaritch’s body drifted downward through the water, limp and heavy, disappearing into the dark beneath the wreckage.
Jake didn’t watch him go.
He turned at once, chest already heaving around air he didn’t have, and looked for his daughter.
The ship was almost fully underwater now. The corridors had become a graveyard of floating debris and sinking machinery, dim emergency lights casting everything in a sick red glow. Panels drifted loose. Cables swayed in the current. A whole section of the wall had torn open somewhere nearby and the water kept dragging everything toward it.
Jake pushed off and swam.
He was running out of air.
His lungs were beyond burning now. Every second without a breath made his chest feel tighter, heavier, like something was caving in from the inside. But he kept going, searching through the wreckage with frantic eyes, one hand pushing debris aside as he moved deeper into the belly of the ship.
His eyes caught movement near the bottom.
Jake stopped for half a second and the world inside him dropped out.
She was at the bottom of the corridor, caught beneath a panel and tangled to a sub by the cord wrapped around her leg, her body limp in the water, hair drifting around her face. She wasn’t fighting anymore. Wasn’t moving. Wasn’t trying to get free.
Jake kicked for her so hard his legs cramped. His whole body lurched forward through the water and when he reached her he grabbed at the panel first, trying to rip it off her back, but it was wedged at an angle and his hands slipped on the metal.
He planted both feet against the floor and hauled at it with everything he had left, muscles trembling, arms shaking violently from exhaustion and lack of air, and this time it shifted just enough for him to wrench it free and shove it aside.
His daughter didn’t move.
Jake grabbed her shoulders at once, turning her slightly toward him, one hand catching her face.
Panic crashed through him so hard it made him clumsy.
He reached for the cord around her leg and started unwinding it with numb fingers, fighting the way it had twisted around itself. It was caught tight, dragged under the sub’s frame and looped around her ankle twice, and Jake’s hands would not work fast enough. They shook too hard. His vision kept pulsing. He could feel the last of his air shredding inside his chest.
He yanked harder and the cord slipped loose once, then snagged again, and Jake could feel himself starting to fade. His lungs convulsed around nothing. His body wanted to breathe so badly it was becoming pain, a brutal instinct clawing through him.
But he could not leave her.
He got the cord off her ankle at last and pulled her toward him, one arm wrapping around her chest, but when he tried to kick upward his body barely answered. He was too deep. Too tired. The ship was dragging down around them and Jake could not tell where the way out was anymore.
Dark water. Red lights. Floating wreckage. No airlock. No surface. No miracle waiting for him.
His mouth opened on instinct and he forced it shut, a strangled groan trapped somewhere in his throat as black spots burst across his vision.
He clutched (Y/n) tighter.
The words weren’t spoken. Couldn’t be. But they were there all the same, loud and desperate inside his head as he tried one more time to kick upward and got almost nowhere.
His grip on her tightened.
He thought of Neteyam on the rocks.
And now he was down here with his daughter limp in his arms and no air in his lungs and he could feel his body starting to shut down.
He pressed his forehead weakly to the side of her head for one brief second, eyes squeezing shut as the last of his strength bled out of him.
I’m sorry I couldn’t get you out.
The thought of Neteyam came again, sudden and crushing, and with it came that image Jake knew he would never stop seeing for as long as he lived—his boy on the rocks, gasping for breath, begging to go home.
Then the pressure in Jake’s chest snapped.
His hold on his daughter never loosened, but his strength did.
The fight went out of him all at once, his limbs turning heavy, his vision dimming until the red lights of the sinking ship blurred into darkness.
Still holding (Y/n) against him, Jake Sully lost consciousness and sank with her into the dark.
Lo’ak went back into the wreckage for his father because there was no way in hell he was leaving without him.
Every corridor he swam through felt tighter than the last, darker, fuller with debris and sinking wreckage. The lights kept flickering in that sick red pulse that made everything look worse, made the blood in the water look darker, made the bodies and twisted metal seem to lurch in and out of existence every time the light cut out. Lo’ak’s chest was already tight from the last breath hold, his shoulder burning, his whole body still shaking from Neteyam’s blood on his hands and the sight of his brother gasping on the rocks.
He shoved that thought down.
Because if he let himself think about Neteyam right now he would freeze, and he could not freeze.
He found them near the bottom.
His father was there, half slumped in the water, twitching weakly, one arm still locked around (Y/n) like even unconscious he had refused to let her go. His sister floated limp in his grasp, hair drifting around her face, and for one terrible second Lo’ak just stared.
Because it was obvious what had happened.
His dad had used the last of his strength trying to save her.
And it still had not been enough.
Lo’ak’s stomach twisted so hard he thought he might be sick right there in the water.
He did not know who to save first.
He thought his father was alive.
Lo’ak’s hands shook as he reached them, and for a second, he almost went for her, though something in him hesitated longer than it should have, but his dad twitched again and Lo’ak made the choice he hated himself for.
He grabbed Jake under the arm and hauled.
The drag nearly tore his shoulder out. His father was dead weight in the water, heavier than he should have been, and Lo’ak had to kick hard to get them moving, one hand locked on Jake while the other shoved at debris and wall and twisted wreckage to keep himself from getting trapped too.
He found an air pocket by sheer luck more than skill, a sliver of space just enough air to breathe.
Lo’ak broke the surface first, dragged in one desperate breath and then hauled his father up with him.
His hand shot out blindly and found hold on a railing jutting from the wall.
“Breathe, dad,” Lo’ak said, voice shaking as he held him up. “Breathe.”
Jake coughed hard, dragging air into ruined lungs, whole body jerking with it. His eyes were unfocused at first, dazed and distant, and when they landed on Lo’ak they looked right through him.
Lo’ak felt that one like a knife.
“No, dad, it’s Lo’ak,” he said quickly, swallowing hard. “It’s me.”
“Oh,” he breathed, sounding so tired Lo’ak’s chest hurt. “Lo’ak.”
At the tiny air pocket. At the water. At the fact that only the two of them had surfaced.
The look that crossed his face made Lo’ak want to crawl out of his own skin.
“Your sister?” Jake asked.
And a part of him knew the truth he didn’t want to face—that he couldn’t save her, That was the cost. That was always the cost.
And worse, a bitter, ugly thought twisted in his chest—she was down there because she had chosen this. Because she had thrown herself into danger like she always did, playing the hero, saving them without hesitation, without thinking about what it might take from her.
And now she was the one left behind and he had no choice but to leave her there.
“I’m sorry, sir,” he said, and his voice cracked so badly it barely sounded like his. “I’m sorry about Neteyam. I’m sorry. It’s all my fault.”
Jake’s eyes shut for half a second.
When he opened them again there was something something hurting so badly Lo’ak almost wished his dad would yell instead.
“Just focus,” Jake spluttered, dragging air in laboriously. “Focus on now.”
The ship groaned around them.
The lights above crackled and dimmed again, and Lo’ak looked up at the ceiling of the air pocket and realised with cold certainty that it was shrinking. Water was still climbing the walls. The air wasn’t going to last.
“We’re losing the air pocket,” he said, trying to keep his voice steady and failing. “Come on, dad. We gotta move.”
Jake was still breathing like each breath hurt him. He looked wrecked. Not just tired. Not just hurt. Wrecked.
Lo’ak had never seen his father like this before, never seen him look so empty and so broken at the same time, and the thought of Neteyam on the rocks and (Y/n) still on the bottom of the ship made Lo’ak feel sick all over again.
“You know your way out?” Jake asked, voice strained.
“Think so,” Lo’ak said. “But dad, it’s gonna be a long breath hold.”
Jake gave a small shake of his head. “I can’t make it.”
His father said it so quietly. So matter-of-factly. Like he was already done.
“You can,” Jake said, and that was worse somehow, hearing his father tell him to leave. “You can.”
“No.” His voice broke on the word. “I can’t lose you too now, dad. Please.”
Jake scrunched his face up in pain, one hand pressed to his chest while he fought for breath. Lo’ak could tell he was hurting. Could tell he was drowning in more than just seawater and grief and exhaustion, and still his dad looked at him and said the one thing Lo’ak could not hear.
“You should get your sister and get out of here.”
Lo’ak felt his stomach drop. “Dad... she wasn’t moving.”
Lo’ak had never seen his father look more broken than he did in that second.
The words hung there between them, ugly and heavy and final, and Lo’ak hated himself for saying them. Hated himself because Jake’s face changed, because something in his eyes seemed to cave in, because Lo’ak knew exactly what his father was hearing in those words.
“You should’ve gotten her out,” Jake said.
“Dad— I...” Lo’ak swallowed hard, tears burning now, because he did not know how to explain it in a way that didn’t make him sound like a coward. “I couldn’t tell if she was alive.”
Lo’ak had never felt smaller.
He reached out and tapped his father low on the chest, where Tsireya had once taught them to breathe from.
“You just have to slow your heart down,” Lo’ak said, forcing calm into his voice even though his whole body was shaking. “Breathe from here.”
He took one deep breath, hoping his dad would follow.
“The way of water has no beginning and no end,” Lo’ak said quietly. “The sea is around you and in you. The sea is your home. Before your birth and after your death.”
Jake’s breathing started to slow.
“The sea gives and the sea takes,” Lo’ak continued, his voice thick now as he kept going, because if he stopped he thought he might break. “Water connects all things. Life to death. Darkness to light.”
Jake dragged in another deep breath.
Lo’ak could see the effort it took, could see him forcing his body to listen, forcing himself back from the edge one breath at a time.
“Dad, you can do this,” Lo’ak whispered.
Their heads were barely above the water now. The air pocket was nearly gone. Lo’ak thought he saw a tear slip down his father’s face and disappear into the seawater, but he could not be sure.
“Last breath,” Lo’ak said.
They filled their lungs and dove.
Lo’ak swam ahead, leading his father through the wreckage, through pipes and broken panels and flooding corridors that twisted in the red emergency light. Jake followed, slower than usual, one hand brushing walls and railings to keep himself oriented, and once Lo’ak felt him falter behind him.
Lo’ak grabbed his wrist and yanked hard, keeping him moving.
If Jake stopped now they were both dead.
The water around them slowly changed as they swam, lit by the drifting glow of squid-like fish slipping through the wreckage. The sight of them should have been beautiful.
Lo’ak could hear it even underwater, the little broken sounds in his father’s chest, the way his body kept trying to force a breath it could not have. So Lo’ak doubled back, hooked his arm under Jake’s and dragged him the last stretch toward the surface.
The water above them shimmered orange.
Spilled fuel burned across the top of the sea, turning the whole surface into a sheet of light and heat and death.
Then Payakan appeared beside them, his great body moving close enough for Lo’ak to grab the edge of his fin. Jake did the same a second later and Payakan turned, guiding them toward a break in the flames where the surface was safe enough to breach.
They broke through together.
Jake surfaced first and gasped so hard it sounded like it tore something in him.
“Just breathe,” Lo’ak said immediately, grabbing at his father’s arm to keep him steady. “Just breathe.”
Jake bent over Payakan’s fin, coughing and dragging in air, but the sound of it made something twist in his own face.
It sounded too much like his daughter. Too much like those terrified little gasps she had been making with the water up to her mouth, with her head barely lifted, with fear in her eyes because she thought she was going to drown.
The sound lodged in his throat and stayed there, turning sharp and vicious in his chest.
He had left her. He had left his daughter at the bottom of that ship. He had felt her in his arms, limp and cold and still, and then he had lost consciousness and now he was here, breathing, while she was still down there.
The pain that hit him was like a knife driven straight through the centre of his chest and twisted.
Jake bowed his head for a second, silent scream trapped behind his teeth, because all he could hear was her voice.
Lo’ak was still beside him, breathing hard, eyes fixed on him with that same fear Jake had seen in Neteyam’s face on the rocks, and Jake’s hand moved before he thought about it. He reached out and cupped Lo’ak’s face, thumb pressing against his cheek as if he needed to reassure himself his son was real. Alive. Still here.
“I see you, son,” Jake said hoarsely.
Jake’s head snapped up at Neytiri’s voice.
She was swimming toward them through the dark water with Kiri and Tuk beside her, all three of them terrified and alive and moving, and for one second Jake could not do anything but stare.
Jake reached for her first, helping pull her up onto Payakan’s fin, then Kiri, until all of them were clinging there together in the firelit water.
And the number hit him like a blow.
From seven strong to five.
Neytiri reached him and threw herself into his arms.
Jake caught her instantly, holding her so tightly it was almost desperate, and she clung back just as hard, both of them shaking with exhaustion and grief and the simple brutal relief of still being able to touch one another.
“Where is (Y/n)?” Neytiri asked quietly.
Neytiri made a small broken sound and clung to him harder, one hand fisting in the back of his neck while the other reached blindly for her daughters, checking Kiri, checking Tuk, touching them as if she needed proof they were still there.
Jake held her and stared at the burning sea and the sinking ship beneath it, and all he could think was that somewhere below them, in the dark, he had left two of his children behind.
They returned to the rocks where they had left Neteyam.
For a few moments no one said anything.
There was only the sound of the sea, the distant groan of the sinking ship, and the fire still burning across the water behind them.
Her scream tore through the silence as she ran across the rocks, slipping once before catching herself and dropping to her knees beside her brother. “Neteyam, get up,” she cried, grabbing at his arm with both hands. “Mama, why isn’t he getting up?”
Neytiri moved toward. She sank down beside Neteyam and gathered him into her lap, one hand cradling the back of his head, the other holding him across his chest as if she could still keep him warm, still keep him close.
The last time she would ever hold her son like this.
Tuk sobbed beside her, little hands gripping Neteyam’s arm, shaking him like he had only fallen asleep, like if she begged hard enough he would open his eyes and tell her to stop crying.
Neytiri held him tighter.
Her eldest daughter was missing. She did not know if her daughter still breathed. Did not know if Eywa had taken her too, and the thought hollowed her out in a way she could not even begin to face—because she could not hold her, could not see her, could not say goodbye.
And she had no room left inside her body for all the ways her heart was breaking.
Jake stood a few steps away, breathing hard, soaked through, his whole body aching from the wreck and the fight and the water in his lungs. He could not look at Neteyam for too long. Could not look away either.
“Come here,” he said quietly to Kiri.
Kiri stepped closer, still shaking, one wrist held out where the cuff bit into her skin. Jake took it gently and used his knife to cut through it, snapping loose and falling to the rock.
“Where’s (Y/n)?” Kiri asked.
He stared back toward the sunken ship.
The guilt was already crushing him, heavy and ugly and impossible to swallow down. He could feel it in his chest, in his stomach, in his throat.
He was the reason he and Neteyam had gone back.
They could have gotten (Y/n).
Neteyam had wanted to go to her.
But Lo’ak had chosen Spider.
And somewhere in the middle of those choices, his brother had died and his sister had been left at the bottom of the ship.
(Y/n) had known what she was doing. She always made that clear. She threw herself into danger like no one else got a say in it.
So why did the thought of her still down there make him feel sick?
Why did it feel like something inside him had rotted out?
And yet, buried beneath the guilt clawing at him, another truth twisted just as painfully—if anyone was at fault for her death, it was herself.
Tsireya stepped closer and wrapped her arms around him.
Lo’ak held her back, but his eyes stayed on the rocks.
“Dad,” Kiri asked again, more fearful this time. “Where’s (Y/n)?”
Neytiri let out another sob.
This one sounded different.
This one was for both of them.
Jake’s ears pinned back. His mouth opened, but no words came out.
He had said a lot of impossible things in his life. Orders. Goodbyes. Promises he could not keep.
But he could not say this.
Could not tell Kiri her sister was still beneath the water.
Could not say he had lost her.
Jake looked away from her.
Her knees gave out and she sank down onto the rock, sitting back as if the world had simply dropped beneath her. Jake crouched in front of her and placed a hand on her shoulder, but he had no comfort to give.
Then movement pulled Kiri’s eyes away.
Spider hauled himself onto the rocks, coughing and exhausted, dragging in air like he had barely made it back to the surface.
“Monkey boy,” Kiri breathed, and through the grief a small, broken smile touched her face.
Spider stumbled over to them, eyes moving over Neteyam, over Neytiri holding him, over Jake’s face.
Jake stood and caught Spider gently by the shoulders. “You alright?”
Spider nodded, though he looked anything but. “Yeah.”
Jake pulled the boy into him.
Then Jake glanced over at Lo’ak.
Lo’ak could not meet his gaze.
Jake reached out anyway, catching him by the shoulder and drawing him in. “Come here.”
Lo’ak came stiffly at first, then broke into him, one hand clutching at Jake’s arm like he was barely holding himself together.
The thought sat in Jake’s chest, bitter and painful.
His heart sank all the way down as he remembered the terrified look on her face, her scared and fragile voice ringing through the ship.
Then coughing cut through the grief.
Wet, choking, desperate coughing mixed with gasps for air.
Si’riya was pulling herself up onto the rocks, one arm hooked around (Y/n), half carrying her, half dragging her from the water. (Y/n)’s legs barely held beneath her, her body folding forward as she coughed hard, water spilling from her mouth as she gasped and sobbed all at once.
Jake moved before anyone else could.
He crossed the rocks in a rush and caught his daughter as she stumbled into him, wrapping both arms around her so tightly he could feel her trembling through every bone. She was soaked and cold and shaking violently, coughing against his chest as Si’riya stayed close, patting her back hard enough to help force the water out.
“(Y/n),” Jake breathed, his voice breaking on her name.
“She swallowed a lot of water,” Si’riya said, still out of breath herself. “We need to make sure she gets it all out.”
Jake nodded, though he barely heard her.
Her legs started to give and Jake went down with her, lowering her to the rocks as she collapsed against him. He kept rubbing her back, patting lightly between her shoulders while she coughed and gasped and choked through sobs, her fingers digging weakly into his arm.
“That’s it,” he murmured, tears burning in his eyes as he held her. “That’s it, baby girl, breathe. Just breathe.”
He thanked whatever was out there for this one small miracle.
For this one child returned to him from the dark.
Then (Y/n)’s eyes shifted past him.
She looked toward her mother.
Jake felt her body go still.
She pulled herself out of his arms slowly, shakily, like she did not quite trust her own legs, and forced herself to stand.
Neytiri was holding Neteyam tightly, rocking him almost without realising it, her face buried near his hair while Tuk sobbed beside them.
His eyes stared at nothing.
(Y/n)’s breathing quickened.
She stumbled forward and dropped down beside her brother, horror spreading across her face as she reached for his hand. “Neteyam?”
“What did you do?” she asked, voice thin and shaking as she shook his hand lightly. “Neteyam, what did you do?”
“This wasn’t the plan,” she said, tears filling her eyes as she gripped his fingers. “You were meant to stick to the plan.”
“This wasn’t the plan. We were—we were all supposed to go home.”
The tears spilled over then, running silently down her face at first as she stared at her brother’s still body like she could not understand it. Like if she looked long enough the answer would appear.
How had the plan gone so wrong?
The only people meant to be at risk in that plan had been her and Si’riya.
(Y/n) turned her head slowly.
Her eyes landed on Lo’ak.
“What did you do?” she asked.
Lo’ak looked taken aback, face pale and wet and already broken with guilt. “(Y/n)—”
“What did you do?” she snapped.
Jake stepped between them. “Hey. It’s not his fault.”
But she did not believe him.
He could see it in her face.
The grief had nowhere to go, and now it was turning into rage because rage was easier than falling apart. Her hands shook at her sides. Her breathing was wrong again. Too fast. Too sharp. She looked like she might collapse or attack and Jake did not know which scared him more.
Why hadn’t they all left?
Unless Lo’ak had gone off script.
She shoved Jake away and stormed toward Lo’ak, pointing back toward Neteyam with a shaking hand. “Look at this!” she screamed.
“You’re an idiot!” she screamed at him. “What the fuck did you do?!”
Her voice cracked on the last word and the sobs came with it, tearing through her so hard she folded slightly around them. Jake caught her before she could reach Lo’ak properly, pulling her back into his arms.
“It’s okay,” he said quickly, holding her tight as she fought against him. “It’s okay.”
“I’m sorry,” she sobbed into his chest, the rage breaking into something younger and more broken. “I’m so sorry, dad.”
“That’s because it’s his!” she cried, trying to look past Jake at Lo’ak. “All they had to do was leave. All they had to do was leave.”
“Pumpkin,” Jake said softly, one hand coming up to the back of her head.
“I’m sorry,” she sobbed again. “I’m so sorry. I should have never trusted Lo’ak to fucking choose the easy way out.”
Lo’ak looked like the words hit him straight in the chest.
But he did not defend himself.
He just stood there, shaking, eyes full of tears.
“Neteyam’s dead,” she cried, the words breaking her open all over again.
Jake held her tighter, running a trembling hand through her wet hair as she shook against him.
“Shh,” he whispered, though his own voice was barely holding. “It’s okay, pumpkin. It’s okay.”
But over her shoulder, Jake looked at Lo’ak.
At his surviving son standing there with guilt swallowing him whole.
She began to cough more water out between her sobs and jake just continued to pat her back. I sobbed, “It was a solid plan. All we had to do was create a big enough distraction for Neteyam to cut them free and then get away, so why? Why is Neteyam dead?”
Jake tightened his hold on her as her body lurched forward again, another harsh cough ripping through her chest. “Easy, easy,” he murmured, one hand firm against her back as he guided her to bend forward slightly. “Get it out, baby, you’re okay.”
She gagged suddenly, another wave hitting her as she clutched weakly at his arm. Jake shifted quickly, steadying her as she retched, more seawater spilling from her mouth between broken sobs. He kept one hand braced between her shoulders, rubbing slow circles as she coughed and choked through it.
“That’s it,” he said softly, voice thick but steady, grounding her as best he could. “Let it out. You’re alright. I’ve got you.”
Her breathing hitched violently as she tried to pull in air, tears streaming down her face as she sagged against him again, exhausted and shaking. Jake pulled her closer, pressing her against his chest, his hand still moving gently along her back.
“Breathe,” he whispered, pressing his cheek to her head. “Just breathe, pumpkin. You’re safe now.”
“Why… why aren’t I dead?” she choked out between coughs, her voice broken as her body shook against him. “Why is he dead?”
“No, no—don’t worry about that right now,” Jake said quickly, his voice breaking as he tightened his hold on her, one hand cradling the back of her head. “Don’t—don’t worry about that, pumpkin. You’re safe. That’s what matters. You’re safe.”
“Why?” she cried, the word tearing out of her, her voice cracking .
Her body trembled violently in Jake’s arms, grief and shock crashing through her all at once, too much to hold, too much to understand.
She turned slightly, breath hitching as Neytiri knelt beside her, eyes red and shining with tears, her face carved with the same unbearable grief.
“My daughter,” Neytiri whispered, her voice breaking as she reached for her.
Neytiri pulled her eldest into her arms, wrapping around her tightly, fiercely, as if she could shield her from the pain, from the loss, from everything that had just been torn from them.
(Y/n) collapsed into her, sobbing harder, her hands clutching at her mother as if she might disappear too.
Neytiri held her close, one hand cradling the back of her head, pressing her against her chest, rocking her gently as her own tears fell freely.
“I have you,” she murmured, voice trembling. “I have you, my child.”
And she held her tightly, as if letting go would mean losing her too.
“I’m sorry,” she cried, her voice breaking as she clung tighter to her mother. “I’m sorry, mama—I tried, I tried getting them out.”
She coughed again, harsh and wet, her whole body jerking with it as Jake stayed close, his hand never leaving her back, rubbing slow, steady circlest.
Neytiri lifted her gaze then, meeting Jake’s eyes over their daughter’s shaking form.
For a moment, nothing needed to be said.
It was nothing short of a miracle.
“I thought I would never see you again, daughter,” Neytiri whispered, her voice breaking as she pressed her forehead gently against (Y/n)’s. “I am so glad you are alive.”
“I- I…” she stammered between her tears, her voice trembling as she clung tighter to Neytiri. “I failed Neteyam, mama… I couldn’t get him out.”
Neytiri shook her head immediately, pulling her closer, one hand firm at the back of her head as she pressed her into her shoulder.
“Shhh… shhh,” she whispered, voice trembling but insistent, trying to quiet the storm inside her daughter. “No, no, my child… do not say that.”
She held her tighter, almost desperately, as if grounding herself in the feel of her—warm, alive, breathing against her.
Her eldest, the one she had believed lost beneath the water, was here in her arms.
Neytiri closed her eyes briefly, tears slipping free as she pressed her cheek to (Y/n)’s hair, silently thanking Eywa for this one miracle—for not taking two of her children in the same breath.
“I have you,” she murmured again, softer now, her voice breaking under the weight of it. “You are here. You are alive.”
“And I am thankful,” she said, her voice trembling as she cupped (Y/n)’s face gently, forcing her to look at her. “Because I cannot lose you too. I cannot lose you, (Y/n).”
Her thumbs brushed away her daughter’s tears, though her own continued to fall freely.
“You are loved,” Neytiri whispered, her voice breaking completely now. “Just as much. Always.”
Jake moved closer, wrapping an arm around her as well, pulling her gently into him and Neytiri both. “We’re just glad you’re okay, (Y/n),” he said softly, his voice thick with emotion as he held her tighter.
Jake met Neytiri’s gaze again over their daughter’s head, and for a brief, fragile moment, something passed between them—raw grief, unbearable loss, and beneath it, a quiet, aching relief. They had lost their son… but they were not burying their eldest too.
(Y/n), turned away from them.
She coughed raggedly again, more seawater spilling from her lips as her body shook violently. Jake immediately patted her back once more, keeping her upright as she struggled to breathe through it.
Neytiri’s heart shattered further at the sight, her gaze flickering helplessly between Neteyam’s still form in her arms and (Y/n) fighting for breath beside Jake.
One child gone. One barely holding on.
“I’ve got her,” Jake said quietly, his voice low but certain as he glanced at Neytiri.
Neytiri hesitated only a moment before nodding faintly and heading back to Neteyam, pulling Neteyam closer to her chest again, burying her face against him as she rocked gently, her grief swallowing her whole once more.
Jake shifted his focus entirely to (Y/n), his hand never leaving her back as he continued to help her cough up the remaining water, murmuring softly to her, grounding her through each ragged breath.
Just thankful he wasn't burying this one as well….
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