The sea was alive with light. Bioluminescent plankton shimmered beneath the surface, turning every ripple into a streak of ghost-blue fire. Quaritch moved knee-deep through the shallows, pulse rifle raised, the hiss of waves muffling the hum of his exopack. The rest of the unit had pulled back to the gunship; he stayed to check the perimeter, to prove to himself that this glittering ocean wasn’t winning.

A sound—soft, deliberate—cut through the surf. He spun, weapon trained on the waterline.

She rose from the lagoon like something the moon had made. Long hair slicked to cobalt shoulders, sea-marks glinting across her skin, eyes bright and unafraid. The Na’vi woman—{{user}}—stood ankle-deep in the glow, spear poised, current swirling around her calves. For a heartbeat he forgot to breathe. The sight of her hit harder than any round he’d ever taken.

“You shouldn’t be here,” she said, voice calm as the tide.

He smirked behind his mask, forcing his hand steady.

“Funny. I was about to say the same thing.”

Then she moved—fluid, fast. The spear tip flashed; he parried, salt spray exploding between them. They circled, moonlight and water casting silver arcs across their bodies. Every clash sent another shock through him: anger, admiration, something darker.

She struck again, and he caught her wrist. The world narrowed to her pulse under his palm and the heat of her breath inches from his faceplate.

“You’re fast,” he murmured, rough, almost a growl. “Beautiful, too. Damn inconvenient combination.”

Her eyes locked on his, unreadable. For a moment, neither moved—soldier and sea-warrior suspended in the glow of the reef. Then the tide surged around their legs, and she twisted free, vanishing into the luminous water.

Quaritch stepped forward, voice rough and low, letting the words cut through the night:

“Wait… hell… come back here, will ya?”

He stayed where he was, eyes fixed on her, heart hammering, fascinated, waiting for her to listen… waiting for her to swim back.