A/N: I'm a baaaaaaaad woman. I'm writing an intro chapter for a completely different fic at the moment, and am also on chapter 8 of yet another one. Oh dear! Anyways, 'saw Avatar last night, finally, and just had to write this. It's supposed to be a teaser intro, but if I pick it up, it might have to wait a good while… I sort of have my hands full. 'Fic would obviously be a prequel to the movie. (Am I being horrible for throwing this out there, considering I don't really have the time to write it at the moment? Maybe after the DVD is released.)

Disclaimer: I own squat.

Spellman had shown him the tank once; tucked away in one of the older parts of the lab.

"She's never been used." He'd told him. "She was the first, created two years after her intended driver disappeared, and kept in stasis ever since."

"Disappeared?" Sully had noted the rather youthful appearance of the avatar; if she'd been human, he would have thought her a teenager. None of this had made sense. If the avatars were worth that much money, why create one without a driver, why create one so young?

"Abby Augustine. Grace's daughter. She grew up here, and… I presume it would be too much to expect for you to have heard of Dr Graham Augustine?"

He'd simply glared at him, giving him his best intimidating Marine scowl.

"He was Grace's husband, involved in genetic research long before the Avatar Program took off. He was… unstable."

The young hybrid girl in the tank had given a twitch at this, as if there had been an actual conscious mind inside.

"He experimented on his own child, fused her body with some of the Na'vi's DNA from the time she was about three. Relations with the Na'vi were better then, Grace was teaching even without an avatar body; she was all caught up in her own research, or so I've been told, too much to know what was going on. All of this is off the record, of course, but people talk. As it turned out, the kid looked completely human, but could breathe out in the planet's atmosphere.

Grace apparently was furious when she found out, but knowing her, I don't think it lasted too long… too many possibilities. So, she took her with her, out there, to that school. Most of the in depth information about the Na'vi's culture and language apparently came through Abby. I suppose it's much easier to find a way in when you're just a child."

"How would you even know any of this, Norm, you were on the same damn ship as me coming here?"

"As I said, people talk."

"Then what happened?"

"Ah, yes, that is where people stop to talk."

Well, that had been really helpful.

He'd given a derisive snort.

"She disappeared, Graham got killed, and Grace got obsessed with getting out there, understanding the workings of their society from the inside. She pushed the Avatar Program after that, created the prototype from her daughter's DNA, that's as much as I know."

"You mean she's looking for her? That's crazy, Norm. You and me, we've been out there; able to breath the air or not, a puny human body won't last a day on Pandora."

Spellman had simply shrugged.

So now here he was. Every single thing he'd done, had experience in the past three months, had been so far beyond the power of his own imagination, the sheer overwhelming intensity of it all still stole his breath from time to time. And yet, everything felt so right, so real, more so than his previous life ever had. And if he had to lay it all down for this, if it was his time to go, this time go all the way, not just one half of him, then he would. And in all the pig-headed determination, in that desperate, foolish, and ultimately glorious moment he had made the bond with the Taruk, in all the moments before then, when the magnitude of the world around him had truly hit home, when the incomprehensibility of this place had made him take a step back and just marvel at it all, he hadn't felt off his game once, the way he now did. For there right beside him, atop a large Ikran, standing behind a fully armed warrior, her knees pressed into his sides to keep her balance, was a woman, a human woman, her hair, the color of dark honey, flowing out behind her in the wind. There was no braid; there was also no oxygen mask.