#varajake

Pairing: Jake Sully/Varang

Summary:

Jake watched as the box holding his brother, his other half, disappeared into flames. Five years, nine months, and thirty days later, he saw that same fire in the eyes of the Na'vi woman pointing a flaming arrow at him.

Chapter One:

     There wasn't enough room, they said. With how people were dropping like flies, the industrial accidents, and earth needed for drilling more minerals so humanity can make it another day and the day after that, there was no room to put Tommy in the ground. Jake didn't know how his brother had wanted to be laid to rest. He'd never even considered asking. With Tommy's excitement for Pandora, Jake had never thought this was where they'd both end up. With Tommy in a box and Jake watching as the crematorium tech rolled it in. Him in. Tommy's hopes, his dreams, all that childlike wonder in his eyes- gone. Gone to some punk the cops would never catch. His brother hadn't even been carrying that much money. The man or woman who'd killed him would've been able to buy a single fucking donut.

     Without sprinkles. That murderer didn't deserve sprinkles. They'd never know how Tommy would painstakingly pick his off and separate them by color. Pinks with the pinks. Blues with the blues. Yellows with the yellows. When Jake had asked his brother why he did that one evening, the man had insisted that like belonged with like. Jake had laughed and stolen the donut from his brother's plate, cramming it into his mouth before his twin could wrestle it back. He wouldn't get to hear Tommy's voice again. God, why hadn't he ever thought to record anything? He'd never again hear his brother's laugh, or see the way Tommy's eyes lit up when he talked about Pandora. A week. Just a few more days and his brother could've been on his way toward everything he'd ever dreamed of.

     "And the pay is good," Jake was dimly aware of money grunt #2's words. Pay? Like Jake gave a single flying crap about money. Money had put Tommy in that box.

     "Very good," grunt #1 agreed. God. Were they even listening to themselves? The tech pushed the power up button. Jake focused on the sound of the device whirring to life instead. Fire shot out from the cremation pipes and engulfed the box. Engulfed Tommy. Jake listened to the roar. Watched as the orange, purple, and blue flames mixed. Tommy could've told him why the fires had so many colors. Could've explained the science behind it so simply that even his dumb grunt of a twin could understand it.

     Should've been me in there, Jake thought. He was the failure who wasn't going anywhere in life. Tommy should've been the one outside the box. Not Jake. Not- The money grunts were still talking. Just shut up, he itched to tell them. Shut up. Burn your stupid, precious investments. Burn the whole thing down, because it didn't matter anymore. Not when the only good thing left in his life had been snuffed out as easily as trash being tossed into the garbage. Not when the only one of them who had still had hope was burning to ash. The money grunts still wouldn't shut up. Jake knew the look in their eyes. They hadn't even had the decency to wait until after the cremation to approach him. They wanted him, and they weren't going to give up until he said-