Work Text:
Miles knew he was a monster.
He was when he was human.
And he was now.
A wolf in sheep’s clothing.
But even wolves have feelings,
Miles had feelings now, looking at this young na’vi woman. The anguish in her wail, you would’ve thought she was dying.
But she was…
Just not on the outside.
The infant in her three-fingered hands was limp, lifeless. Miles assumed it had inhaled too much smoke and died from it, but he could see the deformity in its ribs.
Someone had stomped its ribs in.
One of Miles’s men.
“My baby… Oh my sweet baby…”
Miles knew just enough Na’vi to make out what she was saying. Soldiers didn’t cry, but Miles thought he was about to make an exception. All he could imagine was Spider, his boy, his son whether he liked it or not, having traded places with this infant. Having been stomped on coldly and left to rot.
The woman didn’t even seem to notice Miles’s presence, her forehead pressed against the infant’s head. The infant’s head was lulled back, a look of terror plastered onto its face until it would melt into a skeleton.
“Boss, you copy? Over.”
Miles didn’t flinch at the loudness of the mic in his ear. He slowly moved his hand to press the respond button as if one wrong move would disrupt this mother's grieving.
“Copy.” His voice was a delicate whisper, feeling some sort of obligation to not interrupt the woman’s grieving caterwauls.
“The ship’s about to leave, over.”
“Copy that, I’m on my way,”
“Over.”