Avatar Chronicles::To Truly See

Re-Write Chapter 1 (of 3)

The fully re-written story will be posted on Archive of Our Own, with the same title and under my AO3 username Sapphire_Raindrop

Electronic Journal

Name: Sara Mason

Location: Hell's Gate

Time/Date: Afternoon/Middle of the week(?)

[Additional comments]: I have no idea what the exact time or day is, and I'm too frazzled by all that's happened to bother checking. I'll be sure to input a time and date for future entries, though, for continuity's sake.

Entry 1

I never expected to go to Pandora. No one expected to go to Pandora; it was the kind of thing that people dreamed about, more a fairy-tale that parents told their children before bedtime than an actual possibility.

How could those stories be seen as more than fairy-tales, after all, when they involved distant bioluminescent forests filled with tall, blue-skinned beings and animals with far more legs than they should have?

With that in mind, you can imagine my surprise when I, Sara Mason, an eighteen-year-old college kid majoring in xenobotany, was given an offer I couldn't refuse: free passage on one of the Pandora-bound shuttles as part of the Dedicated Study Program—in simpler terms, a way for the RDA to train up-and-coming xenobiologists to Pandoran standards rather than Earth ones. Before I stepped onto that shuttle and set off toward a new and unfamiliar planet, those bedtime stories clouded over the harsh facts I knew about Pandora, filling my head with images of a beautifully peaceful planet just waiting to be explored.

Oh, how quickly my vision was shattered.

Mere seconds after being led out of the shuttle with my oxygen mask securely in place I saw a man being carried on a stretcher, a large feathered arrow protruding from his chest. I can remember with horrible clarity the coldness that swept over me when he died—it happened maybe a minute later, signaled by a too-quiet stillness filling the air where his yells of agony should have been.

That man's death was only the beginning of the horrors I would witness on Pandora.

Starting that first day I was put to work. Not exciting work, mind you, just the grunt work that all new workers in a research lab are put to; miles and miles of paperwork, cleaning and organizing equipment and the occasional request to label and bottle samples. Over time I began to hear whispers of the 'Avatar Program' based in the eastern sector of Hell's Gate.

For those raising their eyebrows at the name, let me clarify: Hell's Gate is the residents' nickname for the RDA Pandoran Research Base but at this point, Hell's Gate is used so widely that no one bothers using the original title.

Anyway, back to the Avatar Program. I'll be honest; I was way too focused on my own studies and theories about the planet's ecosystems to get hyped up about some weird program that I knew very little about but that even with limited knowledge sounded like more trouble than it was worth.

It's funny, looking back on it, because I probably wouldn't have gotten so heavily involved in this whole mess if I hadn't worked so diligently that first year. To give you an idea: I was studying samples when everyone else was sleeping in their beds and I was researching while everyone had their coffee breaks. For all that I was afraid of Pandora and the very real dangers it presented I was also more than a little obsessed with the place.

A year later I was one of the most advanced scientists in my division and it was then that I met Dr. Grace Augustine for the first time. It was a day I remember down to the last little detail: I hadn't showered in two days, my jeans and plain green work-shirt were covered in dirt and preserved animal fluids and I was sitting in a lab that I was 200% not allowed to be in.

I didn't wake up that day planning to break the rules, I swear. I started the day in the regular lab as usual, where I spent most of the morning analyzing a tree root sample that the other trainees had pushed aside. There was nothing unique about it, they said, just a slightly stronger electrical current than the Pandoran norm. I had a gut feeling that it wasn't so simple, though, and so like any passionate, sleep-deprived student would do…I broke into one of the more advanced laboratories to examine it more closely.

What I found was amazing. The root actually had synapses, like those in the human brain, only more complex and more powerfully transmitted.

I was so intent on my task that I didn't notice the door opening and a woman walking over to stand behind me. I remember what she said so clearly that when I close my eyes and picture it, her raspy words echo just as strongly in my mind as they did in the room that day:

"Amazing, isn't it?"

I jumped so violently that I had almost knocked over the microscope. She laughed in a way that should have reassured me, but I was too busy staring at my knees and waiting for her to start yelling at me for breaking and entering. My fear was double what it would usually be because I knew who this scientist was.

She was Dr. Grace Augustine, a legend, the very first Pandoran specialist—and still the best, even years later. Not to mention that she was one of the strictest, no-bullshit scientists in this base. She knew the rules as well as I did; this laboratory was strictly forbidden to first years. Punishment for using other people's equipment could result in being sent back to Earth, losing your job—

With that in mind, you can imagine how shocked I was when she nudged me aside to look at my sample with an experienced eye, muttering:

"You've got initiative, risking your ass to take a second look at something the others didn't think was important. What's your name again?"

"Sara Mason, ma'am."

"I've heard about you, Sara. Surprising for a first year, especially surprising for a scrawny nineteen-year-old. Most of the idiots your age are too busy adjusting to the gravity and then using that newfound gravity to kiss the asses of the higher-ups to stand out much."

"Um…thank you?" I squeaked out, not sure whether to be flattered or insulted—a bit of both, I think.

"I'd say that it was time you got with some people who actually give a damn about learning about Pandora. Come to the Avatar Station tomorrow and we'll get you set up."

She stood up and walked out, almost casually, as if she hadn't just shifted my entire world on its axis. I must have sat there for a full ten minutes afterwards before remembering where I was and scrambling to clean up and escape.

Now that I look back on it, I wish I had turned the opportunity down. Maybe if I had I could have avoided the pain and confusion I now carry with me everywhere.

The next morning they took a sample of my DNA, and it was only after they had done that that they informed me of my involvement in the Avatar Program. In six years I would have my own Avatar to drive.

Saying I was shocked by the offer would be the biggest understatement in the history of the world.

But I couldn't refuse at that point because the whole Avatar business takes up a lot of money from the government, and to back out would be like shoving my middle finger in Dr. Augustine's face, which was a big no-no for anyone with even just a scrap of self-perseveration. So I just nodded in agreement and my work went on as usual, only now I was working with some of the top scientists in the Pandoran field.

It was in the next six years that I came to know exactly what the alien culture of the Na'vi was and what we were trying to accomplish by creating Avatars and trying to negotiate with the clans.

It was terrifying.

The first time I saw video footage of Na'vi warriors attacking RDA foot-soldiers I had trouble sleeping for a week afterwards. Every time I closed my eyes I heard the wet sound of a Na'vi arrow slicing clean through a human soldier's skull.

Dr. Augustine assured us that as long as we remained peaceful and non-violent with the Na'vi, nothing like that would occur, that the only reason the Na'vi had attacked was because the RDA soldiers in question were stupid enough spook and start shooting when one of the alien warriors reached down to pick up the animal he had finished hunting. Even her reassurances couldn't assuage the tight grip of fear in my chest. What if it was too late for negotiating? What if the idiots with guns already ruined our chances at a peaceful solution?

On a slightly less somber note, watching my Avatar body mature in a tank was weird. It was like watching a baby mature in the womb of its mother but part of it was me, me in a way that unnerved me.

At the end of the growth period my Avatar stood at nine feet seven inches—quite a bit taller than the female Na'vi average of nine feet three inches. There was a sharp, feline beauty in its features; I had to keep reminding myself that they were my features too. Grace was pleased with the result, saying how they had taken a huge risk with my Avatar by tipping the scales of the genetic ratios by adding more Na'vi genes than normal. The risk paid off, though, because my Avatar looked much more like one of the natives than the usual, more human-featured Avatars.

Okay, not to cut myself off, but I feel as if I'm wasting time telling you all of the petty details of the beginning of my life here. None of that is important, not really.

I'm going to skip forward to the day that Jake Sully got lost in the jungle. I want it on record that I was worried about him from the beginning, especially because of his background as a brave—in Pandoran scientist terms: dangerously reckless—marine. Maybe he had gotten away with that kind of stuff back on Earth but here on Pandora being reckless is what got you killed. As cocky and irritating as he was (I don't care that he's one of my best friends, I stand by that statement even if there's a very big chance that he'll read this someday, because he was an ass at first and he knows it) I certainly didn't want him to die.

I'm sure you can imagine the surprise that circulated throughout the station when Jake woke up from link-sleep after hours and hours of him being missing. It was of course a huge relief, as we were afraid that he was being killed or toyed with by the thanator that Dr. Augustine had last seen him running from during the gathering of plant samples. The surprise turned to disbelief when he not only woke up but went on to tell us that he had been taken in by the Omaticaya Clan and was being taught their ways by none other than Neytiri herself. It was a fluke; a once in a lifetime chance that was so unlikely that it hadn't crossed any of our minds.

After all, the Omaticaya were extremely aggressive towards anything RDA related—the hostilities had started two years ago, when they shut down Dr. Augustine's English school. I had never gone, as my Na'vi body hadn't been ready at the time, but it had been clear from the moment I saw pictures of her with the children that it was the woman's pride and joy, her reason for being on Pandora above all else.

The reason behind the closure had broken something in all of us, even those of us who had never met the children.

There had been an attack on a RDA bulldozer by some of the older students, and in retaliation the RDA followed them back to the school and killed them. It was only by sheer luck that Dr. Augustine and the other teachers managed to get the others out in time.

The Omaticaya had hated the RDA—and by association, the Avatar Program—ever since.

Dr. Augustine never mentioned the closing of the school beyond informing her personal staff of its closure, and her silence spoke more than any anger or tears could have—she loved the Omaticaya children like she would have loved her own, and being cut off from any contact with them or the Clan broke her heart.

Life went on after Jake's return, only with a twist.

Colonel Quaritch was now more involved than ever in the Avatar program. I didn't like the way his eyes seemed to gleam with pride whenever he looked at Jake Sully, or when he put his scarred hand on Jake's shoulder as if to say, 'He's yours on paper but don't fool yourself—he answers to me.'

Now, seeing as Jake and I had become unlikely friends in the snippets of time he spent unlinked, the territorial glint to the colonel's eyes scared the shit out of me. I should mention before I forget that Jake's and my mutual friend Norm Spellman, a young anthropologist who spent much more time with the rest of Augustine's team than Jake did, agreed with me the moment I brought Quartich's odd focus on Jake and the Avatar Program when before he couldn't have cared less about our research.

Norm took a bit more time to warm up to me, the little asshole (Norm, I know you're going to read this and say 'how dare she' but just hush because you were a bit of a snob and everyone we know can and will confirm it if asked, so don't try me), but soon we three were as thick as thieves. As thick as thieves who weren't in the same room very often could be, anyway.

I mentioned the bad feeling I had about the man to Dr. Augustine and was relieved when she seemed to take it to heart; after a month of doing her own observations of Quartich she ordered the Avatar division to pack up some supplies for a long term stakeout. She, Norm and Jake would travel into the deep parts of the Hallelujah Mountains. On paper it was to get geographically closer to the Omaticaya but a select few in the Avatar Program knew that it was to escape any and all contact with Colonel Quaritch and the other RDA officials who were more focused on how to exploit the Na'vi rather than coexist peacefully.

I remember feeling a bit hurt that Dr. Augustine didn't invite me to join them, but now I know that it was my own damn fault for not logging in more Avatar link hours. Petty excuses set aside, the real reason I used to avoid being in my Avatar body because I was scared of how not-me it looked. The mirror would show an alien face with large, lemur-like eyes and luminescent dots on the bridge of the nose and on the forehead and cheeks, smooth blue skin patterned with faint, darker blue stripes. Part of me were there but the majority was a stranger, a powerful stranger that could do the same things to fragile human scientists as the Na'vi warriors had done to so many RDA soldiers over the years.

Instead of logging link-hours I focused on finding out more the Tree of Souls. It was one of their strongest connections to Eywa—aka the Na'vi deity that was believed to control all life on Pandora.

There were only so many hours I could spend looking at the microscope, though, and so another pastime arose. I began collecting the video-logs that Jake Sully sent in and watching them whenever I could.

I was fascinated by the changes that occurred in him as the weeks went by. One day he'd be confident as hell and the next he was more subdued, glancing around as if expecting to see something else.

"Everything is backwards now, like out there is the true world and in here is the dream."

I remember his face when he said those words, how the soft blue light that lit up the shack sent shadows across his hollow face as he stared into the camera as if searching for answers in the lens. I remember my blood running cold as I slowly set my coffee mug down on the metal counter.

As the Na'vi would say; I saw him in that moment, more than I had seen him in all the video logs since his departure.

That was the moment that I knew—perhaps I had known it for longer than that but only then was willing to admit it—that Jake had fallen in love with Pandora, just as Dr. Augustine had.

I remember switching off the monitor with a forceful click, as if to take my mind off of the frustration and hopelessness I felt. I turned away from the computer and stared out at the lush forests of Pandora, watching the rain make rivers on the thick glass that separated me from the jungle beyond the walls of Hell's Gate.

I had seen death in those trees, I had seen bloodshed and I had seen violence.

For the first time, as I stared out into the rain that day, I saw only the beauty.

I don't remember quite how I got there but suddenly I was in one of the self-linking rooms, one that was hardly used anymore because of its difficulty to reach. I was small and so I was able to squeeze into the small room without much trouble. I jumped into the link bed feeling disconnected from myself, as if I was watching myself from above rather than experiencing things first-hand.

It was the first time I had gone into my Avatar alone. It was the first time that I didn't feel any hesitation as I pulled the wire, light covered mesh over my chest, and closed the heavy door over my head, sending me into calm darkness.

When I opened my eyes again I was in the large wooden shack that was reserved for Avatars in rest.

My long, blue-skinned legs swung over the side of the cot more gracefully than my human ones ever could have. I felt the strength in my feet as I stood and tucked the tight braids that went to my shoulders behind my ears before unlocking the main door.

Now, I could try to explain the feeling I experienced as I ran through the hard-packed dirt of the compound, but I'd end up being at a loss for words. I'll describe what my senses told me, instead.

The rain fell with delicate dropping sounds on the broad leaves of the interior gardens, my ears swiveling around to hear every call of the birds talking to each other beyond the wire fence that blocked us off from the forest. The flowers drooped over with the weight of the water and my feet dug into the soft, rich-smelling dirt with a determination that had no definable source.

I don't know how far I ran but when I stopped, I remember leaning my face back and stretching my arms out on either side as if to embrace the water as it fell down in cold sheets.

What would have I done if I hadn't met Jake Sully? If I hadn't walked into the lunch room soon after Jake's return from his introduction to the Omaticaya and joined him and Norm for a late-night coffee?

Jake's words, his journey in becoming Na'vi, they had both taught me how beautiful Pandora was.

(Seven and a half years is a long time for an epiphany like that, sure, but better late than never, right?)

The moment—and my temporary ignorance—was shattered by a yell from one of the soldiers. I turned around to see a gun being pulled on me. The gun was held by a burly soldier who I had often seen talking with Colonel Quaritch, and that connection sent a jolt of worry through me. He yelled at me to get on my knees and I did so without hesitation before asking what was wrong.

"Colonel's orders; all Avatars have to be quarantined while we start the attack on the huge tree. Why aren't you in the regular linking room?"

My shock was so great that I demanded to know why they were initiating the attack; it was the first time I had ever talked back to a soldier.

"They're savages—it's only a matter of time before they try to kill us all!"

It was the end of the conversation, clearly, because he jerked his gun in clear demand for me to get up and marched me back into the shack. I jumped at the sound of a deafening boom in the far distance, my Avatar body's senses able to pick up the faintest scent of smoke and fear.

As I lay down and closed my eyes something wet slid down my cheek, but before I could register what it was the feeling of being disconnected abruptly tugged at my consciousness. I opened my eyes to the saddened face of one of my first and closest friends here in the Station, Dr. Max Patel. We had been in the same arrival group but didn't become close until a few years into the Avatar Program.

I remember clearing my throat and reaching up to touch my face, only to find that it was wet with tears.

"Are they really—?"

"Yeah. We tried to stop them, but…"

I wanted to sit up, to get out and do something, but at the same I knew that if I got up out of the link-unit I would see the destruction with my own eyes, see the fire and fear raging in the forest that had once been so full of life.

I remember putting my face between my knees and retreating into myself. Max, gentle and sweet Max, put his arm around my shoulders and sat with me as I cried.

It was a horrible day.

I was led down by Max an hour later only to witness Dr. Augustine and Jake being hauled out of their units. Jake was dazed and limp, his expression filled with an emotion I still don't have words for. Norm was being subdued by two soldiers, his eyes wet with tears of horror and fury.Dr. Augustine was kicking and screaming and sobbing all at once.

"You murderers!" she spat.

None of the soldiers paid any attention to my mentor's piercing accusation and proceeded to carry her, Norm and Jake from the room. I met Max's eye, then, and I will swear up and down until the day I die that in that moment, both of us were thinking the exact same thing: if we could get Jake, Grace, and Norm back into their Avatar bodies, then maybe we could find a way to bring down the RDA, a way to stop all of this from going any farther than it already had.

We had to try, at least.

Now, since I'm cramped for time in this station as it is, I'm going to have to glaze over the description of exactly how Max and I got the three out of the holding cells, but let's just leave it at the fact that we never could have done it without the help of the spunky pilot Trudy Chacon. I won't deny that a lot of it was pure luck but I like to think that some was a result of our brilliant planning.

Anyway, we finally got to the hanger, me pushing Jake's wheelchair so that he could save his energy for getting into the copter. Before heading into the hanger, Jake grasped Max's arm and my hand.

"Thanks, guys. It'll be good having two people on the inside that I can trust. Be in touch; let us know what's going on."

I'm crying as I write this, but I'm going to power through because I want to remember how full of life Dr. Grace Augustine looked as she walked through the hanger doors. I can't let the memory of the fierce determination that glinted in her eyes as she turned to glance back at us fade away.

I remember smiling and I like to think that she smiled back, but in the moment I couldn't be sure.

Then, the hanger doors closed and we were alone in the hallway.

That was the last time I ever saw Dr. Grace Augustine.

She died, later, from a gun wound made by Colonel Quaritch's shooting at Trudy's copter as they escaped. I never got to tell her how much I had grown to love her, as a mentor, as a friend. Anyone who has lost someone unexpectedly can understand the agony of not getting to say goodbye—and to those who haven't, count yourselves lucky, because it's the worst kind of pain you can imagine.

When the hanger doors closed, Max and I made our way back to the medical quarters only to find it in an uproar, people crying and shouting.

Somewhere in the midst of the chaos and uproar I very calmly decided that today was the day I finally grew a pair and joined a goddamn rebellion. It's funny how simple it sounds but it truly was that quick and pure of a thought; one second I was torn and the next I was on a mission.

I remember turning without a word and heading to the small link room. Max, of course, followed right behind me.

"Sara, what the hell do you think you're doing?"

"I'm going to help them."

"Running off into that jungle isn't going to help!"

I remember giving Max a look—the look he hated because I did it when I was putting my foot down. "So protecting Jake's human body while he is in Avatar form wont help?"

Max tried to make excuses. "But that's miles away! You'll never make it in time!"

I guess it's a testament to Max's faith in me—or my ability to make incredibly stupid ideas seem much more reasonable than they actually are—that it only took a minute or two of explaining my plan to him before he agreed to help.

Months and months ago Jake had given me a definitely illegal-level tracking device—capable of sending signals even in the worst connected places and created specifically for Dr. Augustine's inner circle—before leaving for the Hallelujah Mountains, just in case they needed someone to find them quick. I agreed that I would always keep it on me and out of the higher-ups' hands and his agreement in turn was that he would tape his to the link-bed he used in the trailer that had become their home base.

I wasn't a fighter, not by a long shot, but the idea of Jake's human body left undefended in a flimsy trailer was enough to make me want to try.

Once Max sent me into the link, I once again opened my eyes to the ceiling of the Avatar shack. This time I didn't marvel in the sensations of my much taller, stronger form, as I had just hours before. I scrambled out of bed and ran to wrench open the door that led to the medical area of the shack—filled with survival essentials as well as medical gear. Trying to pack for every possibility while shaking and trying to calm panicky breathing isn't easy, in case you were wondering. That nervousness only increased when I leaned over to grab a huge gun that before that day I never would have dreamed of touching. I also strapped a wicked looking dagger to my waist because I had seen enough footage of interactions with the wildlife to know that guns sometimes weren't enough.

Max arrived shortly after with a shallow but long empty metal box that had a few medical labels slapped onto the side. I remember my tail twitching in anticipation; the memory stood out because it's difficult to forget thinking to oneself, albeit hysterically: 'This must be what it feels like to have a penis.'

As the sounds of soldiers neared I climbed into the box, tucking the rebellious tail in question tightly behind me and taking a deep breath of preparation even though Max had punched holes on the underside so that I could breathe when the lid was closed.

The rest I wish I could tell you—I might go into further detail in another entry on how truly terrifying it was for me to be locked in a fragile metal box for hours on end—but as I said before, my petty details aren't important in the long run. I need to get to the point in my journey where everything went wrong, the part where my plan changed.

My box was placed in the cargo hold of the foot soldier ship, as planned, but what I didn't expect is that they would need to dump the cargo in order to make their ship more fuel efficient in battle. And so when my box was suddenly lifted and thrown into empty space for several horrible moments before hitting the water so hard my head smacked against the side, I panicked and instinctively started kicking at the lid.

I only realize now how dangerous it was for me to panic like that. If I had kicked the box at a different angle I could have pushed the locking mechanism into position so I wouldn't be able to get out at all, leaving me to drown.

Luckily, none of those occurred.

Water was pushing through the air holes in thick rivers when I finally kicked the door open. The submergence into the cold water threw me off guard for a second before I instinctively pushed off the metal surface and into the open expanse of the river. Getting to shore was easier than I was expecting—still wasn't used to the natural athleticism of my Avatar body—and I spent a few precious minutes gasping for air on the shore.

The taste of the forest air was lush and tranquil, cruel in its concealment of the fact that a goddamn war was going on.

My gun had been lost in the commotion of being dumped in the river but my waterproof travel bag was still on my back and the tracker safely tucked inside one of the interior pockets.

It's impossible to say what was the right way to feel, running through the forest and knowing that whether I lived or died would be determined by my skill with the puny knife in my hand. One side of me, the human side, was screaming without pause the entire time but the Na'vi part was almost excited, like it was all a game instead of life or death. It wasn't long before I heard the screams of the Na'vi fighting; one second there were only trees and the next I was on the edges of the battle, everything as vivid as if spotlights had been placed upon them.

Na'vi men yelled as they shot their poison dipped bows, the cries cut off as the bullets from RDA guns hit them and their six legged steeds. I remember running to hide behind a tree, trying to block out the sounds of the dying. I had to get to the site where Jake's human body was. If Colonel Quaritch found it he'd kill Jake without batting an eyelash.

At that moment a very familiar Avatar ran by with a gun in his hands, his braid waving behind him and his yells adding to the chaos.

It was Norm. I'm still mad at him for putting his life on the line, even as I tell the story of me doing the exact same thing, but to be honest I'm much angrier at myself for calling out his name.

Him turning his head in my direction meant that he didn't see the human soldier aiming at him, therefore unable to take cover before a bullet caught him in the shoulder. I ran over to him as he fell, as close to the ground as I could go, and pulled him into the safety of the brush.

"What the hell are you doing here?" he demanded, yelling to be heard over sounds of gunfire and Na'vi screams.

"I came to protect Jake's human body. If they find it, he's screwed." I explained in a rush, peeling Norm's fingers from his wound and examining it. The bullet was still in there; I would needed pliers to get it out.

Norm was fading; he had always been squeamish around blood. I slapped his face with so much force that his head snapped to the side but it worked—he shook himself into alertness.

He was scared and I was scared but we managed to get to the site after about twenty minutes of carefully skirting the battleground.

The trailer was in a secluded clearing surrounded by trees and partially covered by foliage. Norm suddenly went limp and there was this moment when I thought he was dead and couldn't stop yelling and shaking him.

(I was so scared, Norm. You laughed about it when I told you, and I joined in so that things wouldn't be awkward, but you need to know how goddamn scary it was to feel you go lifeless like that. I was terrified I had lost you and I never, ever want to feel like that again.)

Then I heard his human cries of pain in the trailer, had a 'oh yeah, pain can break the mind-link' moment and quickly dragged his Avatar over to one of the larger trees that bordered the trailer and shoved him under the roots for safekeeping.

It's almost funny; during the entire battle I was calm as you please but inside I was filled with such constant, suffocating terror that I'm surprised I managed to speak in full sentences after it was all over.

Norm came out a few minutes later with a gun in his hands and an oxygen mask strapped to his face. He looked up at me—it was so strange being taller than him, even stranger to feel a wave of protectiveness at the fragility of his human limbs in comparison to my own strong Na'vi ones.

"I'm going back out."

He didn't give me a chance to respond before he charged towards the distant sounds of fighting.

The battle had changed all of us. The Jake I had seen that first day, the hardened marine that thought of himself and his orders first, now going directly against those orders and risking his life to save thousands of people that he didn't even know. Norm, the passionate scholar, fearlessly engaging in a battle he wasn't anywhere near equipped to fight in. Me, quiet little Sara with a sharp mind but a weak spine, rebelling against the RDA in defense of an alien people that still featured in some of my nightmares.

There was no going back, not for any of us.

The only warning I got before getting shot in the thigh was the brief glint of a glass window and the harsh smell of machine oil on the breeze. The impact was every bit as awful as you can imagine, so quick that I staggered a few steps before the pain set in with a vengeance. Gasping in gulps of air that now seemed much too shallow, I looked up to see the smirking face of Colonel Quaritch through the window of an AMP suit.

A loud, inhuman hiss escaped my teeth—my last act of defiance.

When Neytiri appeared a split second later on the back of a thanator—a sight so amazingly badass that it was almost worth getting shot just so I could be there to see it—I took the opportunity to escape because I would only get in the way if I stayed.

Pain skewed the passage of time; I ran for what felt like both an eternity and a split second.

Finally, my knees buckled under me, causing me to fall roughly on my wounded shoulder. Screaming was all I could do for a while after that. Once I had exhausted myself enough to think again I rolled over to my back, watching the light slowly fade from the sky until the clouds were a gold and crimson blur.

In those hours of waiting to be found and devoured by a predator, I wondered what it would feel like to die while linked to my Avatar. Would I wake up in my human body? Or would they open up the unit to see that my human body was dead as well? What would happen? I still don't know, come to think of it. I'll have to ask Max when I'm done writing this entry.

Anyway, back to how I ended up back at Hell's Gate and able to write these words for whoever is reading this.

When something wet touched my arm without warning I instinctively pushed it away, frustration seeping through the haze of pain. Was it too much to ask for a quick, less irritating method of killing me? The wetness touched my arm again and I like to think that the only reason I was able to sit up was through the sheer strength of my annoyance.

I'm unashamed to admit that I screamed bloody murder when I opened my eyes to see what was touching me. It was one of those horse things—what had Jake called them? Oh yeah, direhorses. The direhorse's long tongue came out to lick my arm instead of skirting away like it should have. I pushed the animal's snout away again before registering that someone was riding it.

It was a Na'vi warrior, that much was clear, but his angular features were unfamiliar to me. There wasn't a smile on his face but he wasn't frowning, either. He was just staring at me.

(I still think about that guy, wonder what would have happened to me if he hadn't shown up when he did. Hopefully I'll see him again so I can thank him. He spoke with a different accent than the Omaticaya, though, so it's possible that he's part of another Clan and has already returned to his home, wherever that may be.)

The warrior spoke, then, and thank god for Dr. Augustine and her stubbornness because I was able to understand every word he said.

Dr. Augustine once said that I'd walk away from our one-on-one language lessons understanding Na'vi or I wouldn't walk away at all. It took three years, but her perseverance had ensured that I could understand everything that was said, even while my speaking skills remained atrocious.

I nodded furiously at his asking if my name was Sara Mason, friend of Jakesully, closing my eyes as a hazy ache settled over my arm. I heard him dismount and felt his large fingers examining my wound. For all that his voice was unyielding, his touch was gentle.

The warrior muttered to himself that the wound was deep. It sure felt like it and so I didn't bother adding to his commentary. The last thing I felt were strong arms scooping me up and then I fainted like the damsel in distress that I am, apparently.

I woke up in the link bed—still alive, hell yeah!—to the relieved faces of Max Patel and Norm Spellman.

In the end, the Na'vi successfully eliminated the RDA and now, all the humans are being shipped back to Earth. Well, almost all the humans. Max, Norm, myself, and the twenty scientists that have Avatars are being allowed to stay. I saw Jake in his wheelchair this morning and felt a stab of pity, but only for a moment.

Jake is permanently transferring into his Avatar. Tonight, in fact.

That's not even the craziest part, though. The truly baffling fact is that they're offering the same gift to Norm and I. Not tonight, as Jake had quickly clarified when he saw my expression, but if we accepted it would happen within the next few days.

Norm said yes in a heartbeat. But me? I'm still deciding.

So yeah…that's my story so far. Now if you don't mind, I'm going to end my journal there for today because I need to try and get some sleep before attending Jake's ceremony at the Tree of Souls. I doubt that I'll sleep much but I'm going to try my best.

I keep looking over at Jake's empty wheelchair. It kind of reminds me of that day in the lab, oddly enough, the day Dr. Augustine offered me a job and swept me into this insane life of mine.

It's funny how random things like wheelchairs remind you of that kind of stuff, isn't it?

Okay, no more tangents. My bed—my wonderful, gloriously comfy, warm bed—is calling.

I'll just have to wait and see what tomorrow brings. I won't lie; I'm terrified. But hey, who ever said life here on Pandora was easy?

End of Entry 1