More words.
Feb. 26th, 2010 02:39 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
Back from dad's, not quite ready to talk about that.
But, I did manage to do some writing since I wasn't allowed to draw all week ((hand was braced due to strain and over-use >>;)) and so now you get to suffer through my writing!!
It's some more Bodyguard stuff and I'm not yet sure how I feel about it, but it tells the story I want right now and give me more off a base to work off of ((and to help anyone else who wants to play in this AU)) so I'll post it.
I'll respond to people and such later. I promise.
Title: Untitled
Rating: PG
It still amazes him that he woke up. He remembers pain, lots of it, and he remembers telling Katara and the rest to leave. He remembers Longshot and Smellerbee standing over him as his vision faded and the rock beneath his feet began to tremble, but after that?
Nothing.
He doesn't know how he was healed, he doesn't know how they escaped and from the looks on his friend's faces, they don't want him to know. It still bothers him.
His body is stiff and sore from disuse and he tries to move around as much as he can, reminding his muscles that yes, they can function. But he is confined to the room that they now call home because neither of his friends will let him outside.
'The world has changed' Smellerbee says, and Longshot's eyes tell him he's not well enough to accept that fact. He wants to force the issue. He wants to step outside and prove them wrong. Show them he can still lead, is still in control, but-
He remembers them standing over him, willing to die then and there, surrounded by rock and a sickly green light. He notices the way Smellerbee no longer has her favourite knives and Longshot's bow is not the quality it use to be.
He sees how thin they've become, how thin he himself is.
And he sees just how much money exchanges hands when a healer comes to try and fix up the rest of him.
So he swallows his pride and stands down.
Fall was the season when he had first re-opened his eyes. He remembered the gold-coloured light shining in through the trees and wincing at the colour without knowing why. Winter brought even more problems when he panicked after waking up in the dark and nearly hurt both himself and his friends in the process. Longshot had blocked off the windows the night before to keep in the warmth, but Jet needed to see the sky. He couldn't breathe without it there, couldn't force his muscles to unclench or his heart to slow down.
He had done his best to force words out in short, stuttering breaths and Longshot's eyes grew wide before quickly ripping off the wood and cloth, letting in light and a blast of cold fresh air that sapped all Jet's strength and left him shaking, but no longer in terror. After that, they always left one window unblocked, and even though Jet couldn't find the words to apologize for a need he couldn't fully understand, they simply huddled close for warmth and held him tight.
It was spring now and he was finally being let outside. Jet had been longing for this day, the chance to truly stretch his muscles and see something other then the four walls he had long ago learned every secret of.
He took one step out the door, and immediately wanted to turn back.
They were here! The Fire Nation!
It didn't matter which way his head turned, for in every direction, mixed in with comforting tans and brown of his own people, there was pale skin and dark hair. Ash and flame coloured eyes stared back at him, mocking him, taunting him.
The anger in him rose and he felt his mind splintering, breaking apart with a sharp pain that tore through his sense and made him want to inflict that same pain on the people who shattered him! Rip them to shred and carve the same holes that existed in his own mind into their own!
But Longshot and Smellerbee each had an arm and were holding on tightly. Smellerbee was talking, quiet and soothing, telling him over and over again that the war was over, they were safe, everything was good.
But those words sounded too much like the ones that had twisted his mind further, taken from him his freedom of will, filling in the holes left by fire with a green light that crept through him and poisoned his thoughts. He wanted to block them out, to close his ears and avert his eyes, vainly hoping that not acknowledging them would make them unreal.
If this is what safe meant, he wanted the war back. The Fire Nation had no right to walk on the land of his home, to breath freely, the same air as he-
And yet, as Smellerbee and Longshot pulled him carefully through the crowds, he couldn't help but notice children of earth and fire playing together, watch as adults chatted and traded news with smiles on their faces, and see blues, greens and red scattered everywhere in a disturbingly right way.
It made him sick.
Exhaustion set in and Longshot noticed immediately, moving to support most of his weight and turning their steps to the little room the three of them called home. And it may have been his paranoia, but Jet was sure they were being watched.
Weeks passed and he refused to go back outside. Refused to listen to the words his friend's spoke, trying to instead sort through his own mind and figure out what was real and what wasn't.
It was not an easy task.
'There is no war in Ba Sing Se.'
'The world has changed, we're safe.'
No war. Safe. Words he hadn't associated with his life since his parents held him. Words he had always spoken of with hope, but never believed in. A world he wanted. One he feared.
What place did he have in it? Where could he possibly fit?
He didn't. As much as it pained him to admit it, he knew that. Had known since the trees, when he left because staying was no longer an option. Another home lost to him and this time through his own fault. But Fire was what had made him who he was and if they had never stepped foot on his land, he could have been a person that could fit this life.
A knock on his door interrupted his thoughts, jolted him awake. Reaching for his swords, which had finally been given back, he fitted them firmly in his grip before cautiously approaching the door, waiting to hear another knock before opening it a crack. Peeking outside, he took one look at the person beyond, before flinging it open and lunging forward.
“You!” He swung his sword at the old man standing before, at 'Lee's' Uncle dressed in green and gold, only to have his arm caught and his body twisted. A steady pressure on his wrists caused him to drop his swords and kept him restrained.
“I'm not here to fight you.” Jet snarled back at the calm voice, twisting in the strong grip that held him and cursing his weakened body when he couldn't get free.
“Well what else are you good for you Fire Nation scum?!”
“Making tea! And playing Pai Sho. Although I am not yet skilled in the art of making cookies good enough to go with the tea...” Confusion let the tension leave Jet's body, allowing the elder to turn him and back away. And although the grip on his wrists had been hot, he was not burned.
The Fire Nation bastard stood before him, hands hidden in sleeves of the wrong colour and a smile on his face. Jet couldn't help but notice that their was a distinct lack of the tension that lined his face the first and last time they met.
And Lee was no where to be seen.
He frowned and crossed his arms, glaring as the familiar rage ran through his veins, demanding blood, wanting pain, but the bastard stood between him and his fallen swords and he was in no condition to take him down bare-handed, especially when the other could Bend.
“Why are you here? And where's Lee?”
“My nephew is back in his home, fulfilling his destiny. As for why I am here, I saw you in the market and was worried.” The smile faded into a frown. “I learned of what the Dai Li did to to you and I'm honestly surprised to see you alive and sane, but very pleased.” Jet couldn't help the twitch when his sanity was mentioned, but ignored the worried look it got him.
“What could you possibly be pleased about?”
“That I have the chance to say I'm sorry.” Jet wondered if he had finally snapped beyond repair because he could have not possibly heard those words. Yet, looking into the others' expression he could see sincerity, sadness and regret. Against his will he was taken back to the moment on the Ferry, sharing a cup of tea with him and his nephew and how right it felt...
...and how much it hurt when he learned the truth. When Lee turned him away, when their blades crossed and it was Jet who suffered.
He turned away.
“Words from you mean nothing.” This brought a sigh.
“Then I shall speak through actions instead.” And with that, Jet heard the man leave. He waited till he was positive the other was out of sight before he retrieved his swords and headed back inside. The meeting was not mentioned to either of his friends.
Two months from that day and Jet still wakes up thinking its all a bad dream.
The old man now had a name, Iroh, and he also had two more employees, Smellerbee and Longshot. Smellerbee said they had been approached with the offer the same day Iroh met with Jet, although it took two weeks and a rather large healing bill before they even considered accepting the position.
To this day, Jet does not know how he got so severe a fever so suddenly. He had never been one prone to illness.
When they finally told him he had reacted to the news poorly, he'll admit that. But still, he feels he was justified in lashing out when he was told he'd be moving with them into the rooms above the Jasmine Dragon. Into the home of a firebender. There had been yelling and cursing and tears from Smellerbee that didn't exist back in the trees...
But it was Longshot who finally convinced him, who made him see that by sticking close to his enemy he could make sure no more harm was done to the city and to his friends. So he had and so he does. But every morning he wakes up and feels the warmth from the flames flickering in the fireplace and his mind can't help but remind him that hands, not spark rocks, could have lit that fire.
Hands like those that took his home.
His parents.
His life.
Usually he couldn't bring himself to go near it but today, today he was sitting right in front of it, dangerously close to the flames that flickered and danced. Red, orange...gold...
Time passed quickly and he ended up staying there most of the day, staring in to the flames, transfixed without quite knowing why. He probably would have stayed there all night as well if he hadn't heard a familiar voice drifting in from the main room.
One of the last he had heard before he was sure he had died.
Katara.
But what was she doing here with a firebender? Was she in danger? Did she know?
Carefully, he got up and crept out the window, pulling himself up onto the second floor ledge and looked down into the main room from one of the higher windows. Distantly, he was pleased that his body was starting to function normally again, but most of his attention was taken up by the scene in front of him. Katara was indeed there, looking just as strong and beautiful as last he had seen her, although the lack of tears and her hair flowing free were definitely a bonus. She was with the Avatar and they were hugging Iroh, looking generally pleased to see him as they all say down for tea.
Bad dream. This was all just a bad dream.
He really wanted to wake up now.
But he didn't, instead he watched as Katara took a sip of her tea, wanting to run down there and rip it out of her hands, ask her what she was doing, but seeing her smile and how happy she looked, he froze.
“Zuko tries, and he comes very very close, but he can never quite match your tea, Uncle.” Iroh offered her a half bow and a warm smile while raising his own cup for a sip.
“And how is my nephew these days?” Jet started. Zuko? Was that Lee? Or did he have more then one nephew and, did they all learn about tea?
Aang made a face. “Always doing paperwork and being all 'Firelordy'.” Jet nearly fell off the ledge, just barely holding on, his knuckle white and body shaking. “We didn't get to see much of him but Mai said...” Aang trailed off and the cheerful air dimmed. Iroh sighed and pushed his cup away from him.
“There's been another attempt?” Katara nodded.
“Yes, and while his throat is still healing he can't bend as well. No healer got to it in time to do anything proper and he's paying for it now.” She looked away. “This one left a scar across his chest and a light burn across his back. I did what I could, what he would allow, but he's not admitting how much damage was left over from Azula's last attack on him.” Her voice shook and Jet ached, wanting to be the one to reach out and clasp her shaking hands instead of Iroh.
“I thank you for everything you have done. Know that is very much appreciated.” He smiled slightly. “I also hear you helped find someone stubborn enough to go head to head with my nephew. Something I didn't think was possible!” Aang grinned and laughed, lifting the darkened mood.
“Yup! Haru! Since he's Earth Kingdom and a bender he's stubborn AND can keep Zuko in one place!” Iroh laughed as Katara smirked, an expression Jet had never seen on her face and couldn't help but fall in love with.
“Zuko's not very thrilled with it. He doesn't want a bodyguard at all, never mind one that can cuff him and carry him off to his room! Although- I do like the outfits Ty Lee and Sokka came up with.” Aang laughed again.
“Yeah! They're really cool looking and I even got to try one on! You should really come see them! And maybe you can get Zuko to spend more time with us!” Iroh smiled sadly as he slowly shook his head.
“While my nephew may listen to my advice, he acts according to his honour, to what he feels his people need. And I feel, he is trying to make up for being away from them for three long years, for something he could not have changed. That scar will forever remind him of what happened.”
The wood beneath Jet's clenched hand creaked and groaned from the pressure of his grip, and his breathing became ragged as one hand nearly mimicked the unconscious movement that Katara made, reaching up to touch the left side of the face. Below he could see their mouths moving, but no more words registered in his mind.
Lee was Zuko
Lee was the FireLord.
His Lee was now the head of the Nation that had been his enemy for as long as he could remember. He was vaguely aware of his body moving, taking him back to the room he was staying in. Lying down on the small bed, he let his mind go back to the first meeting on the Ferry. First seeing Lee across the deck.
He remembered watching the way he held himself, the grace and authority that followed his every move, setting him apart from all those around him. A dignity that had been bent and tarnished, but never twisted, never broken and a rage that scared off any who would try.
He remembered wanting it. Feeling that desire grow as they moved together, fought side-by side and afterwards, the shock and pleasure when Lee let the food go to the other refugees. Asking only for his Uncle's and his fair share, nothing more.
Lee had been a mystery, something Jet had felt could fit the hole left by those still in the trees. Someone he had wanted at his back and in that foggy moment on the Ferry, he had thought Lee had felt the same, but in the end Jet was turned away.
And if he was brutally honest with himself, that moment hurt more then the following realization of what Lee and his Uncle were.
That, was an unpleasant thought.
Rolling over onto his side, facing away from the fireplace, he forced his mind to stop thinking. He only partially succeeded and his dreams were haunted by traces of gold.
A week or so later he entered the main room of the Jasmine Dragon during Smellerbee's shift, taking a seat in a corner and ignoring Iroh's welcoming smile. Jet had decided he needed more information on the whole situation before he made any action and so, he listened.
He watched the patrons carefully, taking note of the way they spoke, the way they moved, their smiles and their eyes.
And listened carefully to what was being said behind their words.
The war was over. Trade routes were open again. Machines of war were being broken down to become tools of the land. People were coming home, families slowly finding each other. But even in all that happy news, there was still an underlying fear, an emotion Jet held onto with all his might, one that reminded him that this was still the world he had left behind. He could see it in them.
They still feared the Fire Nation.
Sitting in what now seemed to be 'his corner' Jet sipped at his tea and dreamed of the trees. It was a way of pushing back the green-light that had almost become as dangerous as the red rage in his head. The trees were safe. In them he was free. So lost was he, deep in those familiar branches, that it took Iroh's uncharacteristic stumble to alert him to the fact that something was wrong.
Eyes suddenly focused and ears sharpened, he looked at the old man and saw the tension in his face, the way he lingered around one particular table. The occupants of said table never noticed and simply continued their conversation.
“Are you sure?” the woman asked as she set her tea down and focused all her attention on the man across from her. He looked grim and nodded his head.
“Yes. It's all the news of the docks and the whole harbor is talking about it. It wasn't as close a call this time, but far more public. They're getting bold.” The woman's hand trembled noticeably and she nearly burned herself trying to take a sip of her tea before simply giving up on the drink.
“Whose in line, if he dies?” It was said in a whisper, but silence spread across the room in it's wake. Jet watched as Iroh's face shut down as the man spoke.
“There is no male heir. No one quite knows Fire Nation procedures, but his sister still lives, as does, his father.” The colour faded completely from the woman's face and people turned away, all conversation dying. Iroh walked silently out of the room.
“Tell me what happened.” He had cornered Longshot that same day, knowing that the most honest and observant answer would come from his friend. Longshot gave him a long look and although he felt his stomach twist and goosebumps break out across his skin, he didn't look away. “I'm ready, I need to hear this.”
And so Longshot told him what he had seen. What he and Smellerbee had heard from Katara, from Sokka, from Aang and from the people.
He heard of the princess, spoken with such fear and rightfully so. He learned of the fall of Ba Sing Se, the 'death' of the Avatar, the failed Invasion and the fight during the Comet.
He heard of how fire and water helped reclaim this city, how the 'Dragon of the West' burned away his own Nation's flag and now runs a teashop and how a banished Prince helped take down a Fire Lord, defeated his sister and took the throne. And it was sitting there, listening to the words coming from his friend, seeing the hope in his eyes, hope that echoed back to a far way time when they fought side-by-side, that Jet made a decision.
He didn't want that hope to die.
Iroh didn't say anything when Jet walked into the kitchen. He simply smiled in welcome and offered a seat. Just as silently Jet accepted it and the cup of tea that was placed down in front of him.
Then he sat back and watched.
No one could deny that Iroh was a master in the art of tea. The proof was not only resting in Jet's hands and filling the room with it's calming scent, but in the way the other man moved through the whole process. The love and control that went into every detail and step. The way the leaves were handled and positioned. Mixed and blended with such perfection and placed in cups lovingly chosen to match them. There was also a beauty in his choice to lightly caress the pots and kettles, heating the water with a gentle touch and such calm that Jet did nothing more then flinch and grip his cup a little bit tighter.
It was an artform.
“Would you like to learn?” Iroh had noticed his attention and although the offer startled Jet, there was no hesitation in his acceptance. This was the first step and he knew it was the right one in the way Smellerbee's face lit up seeing him there and the way the matching light in Longshot's eyes grew brighter.
Jet places a hand over the kettle, feeling the temperature grow warmer, warmer then- just right. He added it to the leaves and let it simmer, the smell filling the room and mingling pleasantly with the blend Iroh was playing with. Jet left it alone and turned to fill waiting cups with an already finished brew, placing them into the waiting server's hands and watching them leave before turning to Iroh.
“How is your nephew?” Iroh turned to look at him, gentle surprise in his expression.
“He is well.” Jet raised an eyebrow.
“So the rumour of another attempt on his life is false?” Iroh's hands spilled a single drop of water and Jet had his answer. “One bodyguard isn't enough, is it?” Iroh's whole body seemed to both relax and stiffen in the same instant.
“No. It is not.” And in that moment, as Iroh turned around to fully face him, Jet could do nothing but watch as the man in front of him transformed from the friendly tea-maker, into the General Jet heard he was, the Uncle he had glimpsed on the Ferry, staring back at him with ancient and knowing eyes. Jet felt fear creep up his spine, but he stood strong and met gold-eyes, hiding nothing, knowing this was his first test.
“At one point you would have been happy to make those attempts yourself.”
“Yes.”
“You tried. You put him in danger, put me in harms way knowing it would hurt him.”
“I did.” Iroh continued to stare, then slowly raised a hand in front of him, palm up. Jet's eyes flickered down to it and watched fire spring to life above it. He jumped, hands automatically twitching towards weapons that weren't there. Breathing suddenly became hard and he felt the rage creep back into his mind. It twisted along his thoughts and found the gaping holes that had been warped and ripped open further by green-tinted light beneath the lake, filling them and breaking apart his control.
But he fought it.
Staring into the flames, he made himself see the red and gold leaves of the Trees and recalled to mind his friends. The new life in them, the hope. The peace.
His breathing slowed, but he could not force his body to relax until Iroh closed his hand and snuffed the flame. Jet took a deep, shaky breath and lifted his eyes to meet those of the older man. Iroh's expression was hard, but understanding.
“We'll work on that first.” And then he turned back to his tea, never once commenting on how Jet's hands shook as he worked.
“Again!” Jet shifted back into his stance, muscles tensed, waiting-
Fire shot at him from the left. He dodged and lunged forward, rolling under the next blast and launching himself at his target who simply moved to the side, sending a wave of fire out, causing Jet to flatten himself to the ground before using his swords to drag him forward and give him the extra speed needed to-
Twist out of the way of another blast that came too close to his face for comfort. But he ignored it and continued his spin till the hook of his sword was around Iroh's neck!
And then he stopped.
Iroh smiled over the steel glinting beneath his chin.
“Good! You're getting much better!” Jet grinned and moved his weapons away, not a drop of blood on them.
“Yeah, but you're still letting me get that close Old Man.” Iroh simply continued to smile at him.
“True, but that is the most important part of your training.” Jet couldn't argue that point. The first time they had attempted this, Jet had lost all control at the feel of heat moving towards him and had immediately gone for Iroh's throat with no intention of stopping.
The older man had been forced to pin him and when that didn't show any signs of slowing him down, knock him unconscious. The feeling of shame that greeted Jet when he had woken up surprised him and it took more courage then he had had to use in a long time to walk back into that kitchen later that day.
It had been worth it to see the relief in Iroh's eyes.
Now though, now he could move past the initial blinding rage and focus on the fight, keeping his cool and control. It had not been an easy or short process and he still slipped once in a while, but Iroh's patience, his friend's approval and the growing unease in the people of his kingdom made him hold on.
Accepting the glass of water Iroh passed him, Jet followed the older man back into the Jasmine Dragon, going upstairs briefly to clean up and change before joining the other in the kitchen.
There, while brewing tea and filling orders, another set of training took place. Iroh had seen his determination and after their first successful 'fight' he started explaining the rules of 'Court' to Jet. He explained nobility, the politics and rules of honour that governed the world Jet would soon enter willingly. It was so far removed from anything Jet himself had lived through it might as well have been another reality. Some days, when he thought too much about what he was stepping into, the feeling of being lost in a dream would creep up on him and he would have to sit with his friends and listened to them. Remind himself that it was real, he was awake and it was worth it.
Sometimes history was thrown in to the lessons as well. Other times little bits and facts on the ruling houses as if Iroh knew and wanted to make it feel more real to him. He appreciated the stories that came with the facts, little reminders that Iroh was not the only 'human' firebender alive.
He learned to be observant in a different way then he was used to. Learned how people fought ruthlessly with words, and how to move through and around the rules that wove the Palace together.
But he told himself that he would refused to completely change when he got there. Adapt? Yes. Change? No. He was Earth Kingdom and he would never become Fire Nation. Never again would he forget 'who' he was.
“Jet!” the cry was all the warning he got before a figure in yellow and orange launched themselves at him. He managed to get the kettle and cups out of the way before he was knocked onto his back and staring up into the face of an over-joyed, grinning Avatar.
“Uncle told us you were alive and alright, but I couldn't believe it so I had to see for myself and I'm sooo sorry we had to leave you! I didn't want to, but we got them back! We did it and-” Aang stared down his nose at the tanned hand covering his mouth and then grinned sheepishly down at Jet who used his other hand to push himself up off the floor. Aang got off of him and helped him stand. “Sorry, I was just happy to see you!” Jet grinned.
“I could tell.” He filled the last few waiting cups and passed them off to a smirking Smellerbee before turning back a nearly vibrating Avatar. “It's good to see you again as well. I heard what you did while I was sleeping and have to say, I'm quite impressed..” Aang's expression toned down a bit, but quickly rose again.
“Yeah! We did it! And Uncle told me what you're planning!” His grin got even wider. “That's so cool Jet! You'll look awesome in the uniform and Haru will finally have someone else from the Earth Kingdom to talk to!” Jet let Aang ramble on and on as he led him to a corner table in the kitchen, out of everyone's way. It also led him out of the sight of all the customers trying to peek through the door for a glimpse of the Avatar.
Iroh came over with a plate of cookies and tea for both of them and Jet was given a few minutes of silence while Aang (and Momo who seemed to know food was around) snacked on the cookies. He hadn't gotten a good look at Aang when he last he spotted him from outside the window, but now that he could, the changes were drastic.
It wasn't even the fact that he was taller or more muscled then the scrawny young boy he chased in the trees or fought beside in those green-tinted caves. No. What was really noticeable was the confidence in his movements, the grace he held himself with and the quiet dignity and wisdom that was growing around him, even while stuffing his face with cookies.
Now more then ever, Jet was glad he lost in the trees and proud that he regained a hold of his mind in time to help this boy help his kingdom.
He sipped his tea and let Aang, who had just wrestled the last cookie away from Momo, talk. He let him tell their adventures from his point of view. It was a long and very interesting story. One that matched with the basics of what Longshot had told him but filled in the missing blanks. The sun was setting long before Aang was nearly done.
“And then we met the dr-uh masters. And they taught us True Firebending!” Jet cocked his head in confusion.
“True Firebending? You mean there's more then one way?” Aang nodded, pausing a moment for a sip of his now cooled tea.
“Yup! It's not just about destruction! It's life and warmth, like the Sun! It was really cool! I mean, holding it was like holding something alive. There was a heartbeat in it and it was...beautiful.” Jet's doubt must have been plain on his face because Aang stopped and smiled, the expression softer then his normal grin, but no less sincere. And it was the age behind that expression, the understanding that made him trust and let Aang take his hands turning their palms up.
“I know, I use to be scared too.”
And Aang, the Avatar, breathed fire into existence and held it over Jet's hands. There was no flinching. There was no tenseness, no fear, no fight. Jet stared into the flickering creature, heat dangerously close to his skin and couldn't help the small smile that lifted his lips as his own heart automatically matched the beat held safely in his hands. Aang was right.
It was beautiful.
Jet thought he had know what it felt like to fly. He had spent most of his life leaping from tree branches that might have well existed in the clouds, but nothing, nothing at all could compare to this.
“How can you stand to walk anywhere?” Aang's laughter echoed back to him from on top of Appa's head.
“I avoid it when I can!” Stretching out on the sun-warmed saddle, with the wind whipping past and the sunlight shining down on him, Jet completely understood. It was all such a beautiful distraction from their destination, which they would arrive at today.
A year since he'd woken up. Seven months since he first trained with the 'Dragon of the West.'
Years since he was forced to flee his home.
He was now entering the Fire Nation.
After his first visit, Aang had often stopped by to chat and update him on what was going on in the world, hoping to help boost his chances of obtaining the Bodyguard position. More often then not Katara was with him and although the first few meetings had been beyond awkward, a friendship formed. It was still a little unsteady and Jet could tell both of them still carried guilt over leaving him to what all thought would be his death. It made them try a little too hard sometimes and he knew it would probably stand in the way of a truly close friendship for quite some time, but still, he appreciated their company and Katara had also been very supportive of his decision. She also understood, more then Aang, how difficult a choice it really was.
She had wanted to be here with him, since Aang had offered to fly him to the Fire Nation capital, but the South Pole had needed her more.
That was fine with him.
This was something Jet felt he had to do on his own.
“Hey! You can see it now!” Lifting himself up, Jet leaned over the side of Appa's saddle and looked towards the direction Aang guided them.
Red and gold. The colours assaulted him first as it soared to the sky in sharp spikes and crisp lines that somehow kept a sinuous feel. The Palace dominated all, but the whole city carried the feeling and even though Jet had never seen a dragon, but had heard the legends and he couldn't help but compare the Capital to one.
It was dangerously beautiful. Elegant and harsh with a grace and shine that distracted you from everything else, made you come in too close. Jet shuddered. A deep breath in and a slow breath out, helped him focus as he forced his body to relax. The closer they flew the stronger Jet concentrated on his own heartbeat, remembering the flame Aang let him hold and using that connection to help fight off the lingering rage and panic. Trying to control his fear.
It helped that, as they flew closer, he could see green and blue clothes mixed into the sea of red that flooded the streets, and he noticed open spaces on Palace Grounds. Spaces where all the sharp edges had been softened with gardens and ponds that acted as a subtle reminder to Jet that life could indeed exist here.
It was in one of these gardens that Aang landed Appa and jumped down to the ground. Jet followed his lead, leaping out of the saddle and onto the soft grass. He was standing on Fire Nation soil.
In a way it was kinda disappointing that the air didn't smell like ash.
Aang bounced over to him and latched onto his arm before dragging him across the half-wild lawn towards one of the many entrances into the Palace itself. Jet remembered Iroh's lessons and let his eyes move around, taking in his surroundings quickly and accurately. The Old Man had been right. There were a lot of places one could easily hide and all that spiky architecture made it all ridiculously easy to climb.
If nothing else, at least he could have some fun here.
Aang kept up a constant chatter beside beside him and Jet appreciated the familiar, comforting sound as they entered the Palace and Jet was instantly surrounded by an overwhelming display done in a distinctive, Fire Nation taste. There was no way he could even pretend he was anywhere else. As they walked, they passed men and women in uniforms Jet had once hunted with a single-minded purpose, people and children in colours he use to despise, and yet now, they all bowed to the Avatar before nodding pleasantly to Jet himself.
The whole experience reminded Jet of the day he woke up. Everything felt surreal and detached, as if he was living someone else's life. It was something that was happening that shouldn't even be possible.
Aang led to a small room where his new uniform lay sitting on a table. Here he stopped, smiled and stepped back.
“You can get changed in here. I'll got get Mai since she wants to talk to you before you meet Zuko.” Jet nodded and watched him go before stepping over to the pile of clothes. Slowly he shed the greens and browns of his homeland, carefully folding each garment before placing it on the table. Outer robe, inner shirt, pants and boots. All of it stripped away till he stood naked, facing the reality of his decision.
The pants went on first. Silky material in a deep blood red. His hands shook as he tied them up and reached for the pointed toe black boots. As each one slipped over his feet, his mind recalled seeing the footprints boots like these left behind in the dirty streets of burned down villages, the bruises they left on bodies...
A black sleeve-less, no collar shirt of a thicker material went on next, followed by the grey, red-lined outer shirt. That was fastened with a belt the same colour as the pants and Jet couldn't help but feel a little relieved. Never had he killed a solider dressed in grey.
The heavy, leather shoulder guard, also in the same colour as the pants, was a bit trickier to put on and the weight on his shoulders and around his neck was uncomfortable, but not unbearable. That left the last pieces which were thick, black elbow length gloves and silver arm guards. Finally, he was finished. No mirrors were in the room, but he walked over to the lone window and shifted till he could see his reflection in the glass.
Fire Nation...
Murderer.
The uniform filled his vision. He couldn't see his own face attached, didn't have anything to ground himself with. He was surrounded and could feel the red creeping into his mind, once again filling the never-healed gaps, creeping in and taking over his senses...
It was then, right at his weakest, that the attack came. No flames, but razor sharp knives came flying at him and only Iroh's training allowed his body to move in time. His eyes couldn't see his attacker, but he knew the direction and moved, knocking the table over and using it as a shield against the next wave of knives. The thunk of metal hitting wood helped to jolt his mind back to the present, pushing back both the red and the lingering sickly green.
Kicking out, he broke off one of the table legs and holding it tight, he waited, listening for a shift, a change in breathing. Anything to tell him where-
There! Leaping over the table, he rushed to the left, dodging and knocking the knives aimed at him out of the air until, finally, he could see, there in the shadows, a black haired woman clad in a uniform similar to his own.
More knives appeared as he dropped down low and he felt the sharp sting of one grazing his back before he got close enough to attack back. A slash down low forced his target to jump and gave him enough time to push his body up and reach out grabbing her arm and locking it. He allowed the knife, that instantly appeared in her other hand, to slash shallowly at his side in order to bring it within grabbing distance. Now holding both arms tightly, he shifted sideways and slammed her body into the wall, hard. His attacker made no noise at the move, but up close he could see her amber coloured eyes narrow and her lips twist up in a grin as sharp as her knives.
“It seems General Iroh was right. You're worth a chance at least.” Jet glared at her, pushing more of his weight against her.
“Well, I beat you didn't I?”
“Only because the Avatar and the General didn't want you dead. Besides,” she flicked her wrists and with a quick twist of her arms and hips, she freed herself and reversed their positions, pushing Jet into the wall faster then he could follow. A knife at his throat, cut off his cry of surprise. “I myself am curious about your history with Zuko.” She pressed the knife in closer, the metal kissing his skin without drawing blood, before drawing it away and walking calmly towards the door.
“The Avatar will be here shortly, after which you'll meet with our Fire Lord.”
“Does he know I'm here?” The woman stopped and looked over her shoulder.
“No. So don't screw it up.” With that she was gone and Jet let himself slump against the wall, ignoring the slight throb from the wounds he had received. He couldn't deny the grin on his face nor the anticipation he felt. Over a year later and he was still chasing the boy from across the Ferry. The thought was enough to leave the holes in his head empty, green and red pushed back by a rush of gold.
By the time Aang returned for him, Jet had righted the table, supporting it with the broken leg as best he could, and had re-folded his clothing. Aang seemed hesitant as he entered the room and took in Jet's new wounds, but Jet simply grinned and followed him out. Their path took them deeper through the halls, and he noticed that the guards seemed to multiply in numbers as they went along. But none of them seemed to be paying attention to either Jet or Aang, only glancing at the colour of their clothing and then looking away. Jet frowned but said nothing.
Aang had started chatting again and Jet could tell he was nervous so he just let him babble, listening close enough to know when to nod, but otherwise focusing most of his attention on his surroundings. He was starting to recognize the layout from his lessons and knew they were headed into the section dedicated only to the Royal Family.
And what bothered Jet more then the seemingly inattentiveness of the guards, was the silence. All through the other halls, even in the gardens and especially over the city, there was the echo of voices, of people walking and moving, proof that people lived there.
But here, there was nothing but him, Aang and the statue-like guards.
Mother vanished, Father locked away, sister under heavy guard and Uncle in another continent. Who did that leave Zuko with? He couldn't be any older then Jet himself and yet he was alone in these halls, forced to rule a Nation with all the eyes of the rest of the world on him. Was this what he wanted? What he had yearned for and brought about all the anger and pride that Jet remembered?
They turned around one last corner, and Jet was forced to suddenly stop and stare. Once again, it was the scar that first caught his attention and now it was the only thing that identified the young man in front of him. Zuko stood alone on one of the many balconies facing out towards the private gardens, not yet noticing them, which gave Jet a chance to catch his breath. His hair was a lot longer then Jet remembered, hanging messily around around his neck where it wasn't pulled up into a topknot and the brilliant red robes of his rank engulfed his frame, made him seem smaller and far more fragile then Jet knew he was.
But what really shocked him was the lack of anger. The tension was still there. The pride, dignity and determination that flowed through his frame, held him up and made you look still present. But the anger that caused people to hesitate, to back away, that, was now missing.
All of a sudden, Jet's gold-eyed memory was human, and he had just turned his head. Jet watched the one good eye widen and his expression completely drop with surprise.
“Jet?” The voice sounded young. So confused and broken that Jet couldn't help but grin, his expression softer then he would have liked.
“Miss me?” He started walking forward and Aang followed close by his side. Jet was pleased to notice that Zuko's stance shifted, ready to fight or guard, but he didn't back away.
“They told me you died.” Jet shrugged.
“I thought I did too. But I didn't, and now I'm here.” He stopped a few feet away and as Zuko continued to look on in confusion, Jet took a moment to re-evaluate the age he had first given the other boy. Zuko was definitely younger then him, something that was painfully apparent with the all-encompassing rage gone.
“But, why?” Jet smirked and waved a hand down to indicate his uniform. He didn't think it was possible, but Zuko's eye went even wider still and his confusion visibly grew, but a hint of the old anger also resurfaced.
“You?! A Bodyguard?! But you tried to kill me!” Aang jumped in between them at that point, hands raised.
“But he's changed! Uncle's been training him and we think he would be a good partner to Haru and-” he paused suddenly, scanning the are before turning back to Zuko and glaring. It's was Jet's turn to blink in surprise. He had never seen that expression on the younger boy's face, even when facing him up in his trees. “Zuko...” The words were spoken quietly, with just a hint of frost. “Where's Haru?”
“Uh...” The Fire Lord was slowly backing away from the Avatar, his expression now both stubborn and nervous. Jet could only sit back and watch as Aang, with a quick movement of foot and hand, created a wall behind Zuko, blocking off his retreat.
“So, you're out here alone, without a bodyguard. Again.” Zuko winced.
“Yes.”
“Zuko!” The sheer exasperation that one word was spoken with had Jet laughing out loud, causing Zuko to turn to him with a dark look but Jet only grinned in response. Aang on the other hand smirked.
“Fine. Jet, your duties start now and Zuko-” he glared at the other boy who quickly shut his mouth. “As Avatar I am strongly advising you to accept Jet as your Bodyguard and to stay with him until I find Haru.” He flicked his glider out and crouched down. “And yes, I'm telling Mai as well.” Then he launched himself into the air before Zuko could catch him, ignoring the scarred boy's panicked “Wait!”
And with that, Jet found himself alone with the Fire Lord.
He watched silently as Zuko took a moment to compose himself before turning and facing Jet, his expression torn between suspicious and hopeful.
“Tell me Jet, why are you really here?” Jet decided to be honest.
“To make sure you don't screw up.” It was easy to tell that was not the answer that was expected.
“Screw up? At one point I was pretty sure you thought me being born on this soil was a mistake and now you're looking out for me?”
“No. I'm looking out for my country.” He took a step closer, easily within grabbing distance now but he made no move to touch. “Right now, they believe you being on the throne will mean peace. And that belief has just gotten stronger with every day that passes. But every time a rumour starts that there has been another attempt on your life, every time they question what happens if you die...the old fear comes back. We've seen what this Nation is capable of.” Now he did move, slowly lifting a hand and pushing aside the neck of Fire Lord's robes, exposing the scar he had heard about back when Lee first became Zuko. The other boy tensed, but allowed the movement. “We don't want to go through that again. We can't.”
“You won't.” Jet's grin turned crooked but he didn't look away from the scar, his thumb tracing the raised flesh as it wrapped around the neck and down the collar bone.
They weren't lying, it had been a very close call.
“If you die, we could.”
“I'm surprised you don't believe that I won't cause that fear myself.” Now Jet did look up, his grip tightening on Zuko's shoulder, fingers bruising the pale flesh and thumb digging painfully underneath his collar bone.
“That's the other reason I'm here, Fire Lord. To make sure you don't . Or, at the very least, to make sure it doesn't last long.” As he released his hold and stepped back slightly, Jet couldn't figure out why those words made Zuko's expression soften, or why that, made him want to smile.
***
And....if you critique, which I don't mind at all, just be a little gentle. I'm still really REALLY nervous when it comes to posting words instead of pictures.
But, I did manage to do some writing since I wasn't allowed to draw all week ((hand was braced due to strain and over-use >>;)) and so now you get to suffer through my writing!!
It's some more Bodyguard stuff and I'm not yet sure how I feel about it, but it tells the story I want right now and give me more off a base to work off of ((and to help anyone else who wants to play in this AU)) so I'll post it.
I'll respond to people and such later. I promise.
Title: Untitled
Rating: PG
It still amazes him that he woke up. He remembers pain, lots of it, and he remembers telling Katara and the rest to leave. He remembers Longshot and Smellerbee standing over him as his vision faded and the rock beneath his feet began to tremble, but after that?
Nothing.
He doesn't know how he was healed, he doesn't know how they escaped and from the looks on his friend's faces, they don't want him to know. It still bothers him.
His body is stiff and sore from disuse and he tries to move around as much as he can, reminding his muscles that yes, they can function. But he is confined to the room that they now call home because neither of his friends will let him outside.
'The world has changed' Smellerbee says, and Longshot's eyes tell him he's not well enough to accept that fact. He wants to force the issue. He wants to step outside and prove them wrong. Show them he can still lead, is still in control, but-
He remembers them standing over him, willing to die then and there, surrounded by rock and a sickly green light. He notices the way Smellerbee no longer has her favourite knives and Longshot's bow is not the quality it use to be.
He sees how thin they've become, how thin he himself is.
And he sees just how much money exchanges hands when a healer comes to try and fix up the rest of him.
So he swallows his pride and stands down.
Fall was the season when he had first re-opened his eyes. He remembered the gold-coloured light shining in through the trees and wincing at the colour without knowing why. Winter brought even more problems when he panicked after waking up in the dark and nearly hurt both himself and his friends in the process. Longshot had blocked off the windows the night before to keep in the warmth, but Jet needed to see the sky. He couldn't breathe without it there, couldn't force his muscles to unclench or his heart to slow down.
He had done his best to force words out in short, stuttering breaths and Longshot's eyes grew wide before quickly ripping off the wood and cloth, letting in light and a blast of cold fresh air that sapped all Jet's strength and left him shaking, but no longer in terror. After that, they always left one window unblocked, and even though Jet couldn't find the words to apologize for a need he couldn't fully understand, they simply huddled close for warmth and held him tight.
It was spring now and he was finally being let outside. Jet had been longing for this day, the chance to truly stretch his muscles and see something other then the four walls he had long ago learned every secret of.
He took one step out the door, and immediately wanted to turn back.
They were here! The Fire Nation!
It didn't matter which way his head turned, for in every direction, mixed in with comforting tans and brown of his own people, there was pale skin and dark hair. Ash and flame coloured eyes stared back at him, mocking him, taunting him.
The anger in him rose and he felt his mind splintering, breaking apart with a sharp pain that tore through his sense and made him want to inflict that same pain on the people who shattered him! Rip them to shred and carve the same holes that existed in his own mind into their own!
But Longshot and Smellerbee each had an arm and were holding on tightly. Smellerbee was talking, quiet and soothing, telling him over and over again that the war was over, they were safe, everything was good.
But those words sounded too much like the ones that had twisted his mind further, taken from him his freedom of will, filling in the holes left by fire with a green light that crept through him and poisoned his thoughts. He wanted to block them out, to close his ears and avert his eyes, vainly hoping that not acknowledging them would make them unreal.
If this is what safe meant, he wanted the war back. The Fire Nation had no right to walk on the land of his home, to breath freely, the same air as he-
And yet, as Smellerbee and Longshot pulled him carefully through the crowds, he couldn't help but notice children of earth and fire playing together, watch as adults chatted and traded news with smiles on their faces, and see blues, greens and red scattered everywhere in a disturbingly right way.
It made him sick.
Exhaustion set in and Longshot noticed immediately, moving to support most of his weight and turning their steps to the little room the three of them called home. And it may have been his paranoia, but Jet was sure they were being watched.
Weeks passed and he refused to go back outside. Refused to listen to the words his friend's spoke, trying to instead sort through his own mind and figure out what was real and what wasn't.
It was not an easy task.
'There is no war in Ba Sing Se.'
'The world has changed, we're safe.'
No war. Safe. Words he hadn't associated with his life since his parents held him. Words he had always spoken of with hope, but never believed in. A world he wanted. One he feared.
What place did he have in it? Where could he possibly fit?
He didn't. As much as it pained him to admit it, he knew that. Had known since the trees, when he left because staying was no longer an option. Another home lost to him and this time through his own fault. But Fire was what had made him who he was and if they had never stepped foot on his land, he could have been a person that could fit this life.
A knock on his door interrupted his thoughts, jolted him awake. Reaching for his swords, which had finally been given back, he fitted them firmly in his grip before cautiously approaching the door, waiting to hear another knock before opening it a crack. Peeking outside, he took one look at the person beyond, before flinging it open and lunging forward.
“You!” He swung his sword at the old man standing before, at 'Lee's' Uncle dressed in green and gold, only to have his arm caught and his body twisted. A steady pressure on his wrists caused him to drop his swords and kept him restrained.
“I'm not here to fight you.” Jet snarled back at the calm voice, twisting in the strong grip that held him and cursing his weakened body when he couldn't get free.
“Well what else are you good for you Fire Nation scum?!”
“Making tea! And playing Pai Sho. Although I am not yet skilled in the art of making cookies good enough to go with the tea...” Confusion let the tension leave Jet's body, allowing the elder to turn him and back away. And although the grip on his wrists had been hot, he was not burned.
The Fire Nation bastard stood before him, hands hidden in sleeves of the wrong colour and a smile on his face. Jet couldn't help but notice that their was a distinct lack of the tension that lined his face the first and last time they met.
And Lee was no where to be seen.
He frowned and crossed his arms, glaring as the familiar rage ran through his veins, demanding blood, wanting pain, but the bastard stood between him and his fallen swords and he was in no condition to take him down bare-handed, especially when the other could Bend.
“Why are you here? And where's Lee?”
“My nephew is back in his home, fulfilling his destiny. As for why I am here, I saw you in the market and was worried.” The smile faded into a frown. “I learned of what the Dai Li did to to you and I'm honestly surprised to see you alive and sane, but very pleased.” Jet couldn't help the twitch when his sanity was mentioned, but ignored the worried look it got him.
“What could you possibly be pleased about?”
“That I have the chance to say I'm sorry.” Jet wondered if he had finally snapped beyond repair because he could have not possibly heard those words. Yet, looking into the others' expression he could see sincerity, sadness and regret. Against his will he was taken back to the moment on the Ferry, sharing a cup of tea with him and his nephew and how right it felt...
...and how much it hurt when he learned the truth. When Lee turned him away, when their blades crossed and it was Jet who suffered.
He turned away.
“Words from you mean nothing.” This brought a sigh.
“Then I shall speak through actions instead.” And with that, Jet heard the man leave. He waited till he was positive the other was out of sight before he retrieved his swords and headed back inside. The meeting was not mentioned to either of his friends.
Two months from that day and Jet still wakes up thinking its all a bad dream.
The old man now had a name, Iroh, and he also had two more employees, Smellerbee and Longshot. Smellerbee said they had been approached with the offer the same day Iroh met with Jet, although it took two weeks and a rather large healing bill before they even considered accepting the position.
To this day, Jet does not know how he got so severe a fever so suddenly. He had never been one prone to illness.
When they finally told him he had reacted to the news poorly, he'll admit that. But still, he feels he was justified in lashing out when he was told he'd be moving with them into the rooms above the Jasmine Dragon. Into the home of a firebender. There had been yelling and cursing and tears from Smellerbee that didn't exist back in the trees...
But it was Longshot who finally convinced him, who made him see that by sticking close to his enemy he could make sure no more harm was done to the city and to his friends. So he had and so he does. But every morning he wakes up and feels the warmth from the flames flickering in the fireplace and his mind can't help but remind him that hands, not spark rocks, could have lit that fire.
Hands like those that took his home.
His parents.
His life.
Usually he couldn't bring himself to go near it but today, today he was sitting right in front of it, dangerously close to the flames that flickered and danced. Red, orange...gold...
Time passed quickly and he ended up staying there most of the day, staring in to the flames, transfixed without quite knowing why. He probably would have stayed there all night as well if he hadn't heard a familiar voice drifting in from the main room.
One of the last he had heard before he was sure he had died.
Katara.
But what was she doing here with a firebender? Was she in danger? Did she know?
Carefully, he got up and crept out the window, pulling himself up onto the second floor ledge and looked down into the main room from one of the higher windows. Distantly, he was pleased that his body was starting to function normally again, but most of his attention was taken up by the scene in front of him. Katara was indeed there, looking just as strong and beautiful as last he had seen her, although the lack of tears and her hair flowing free were definitely a bonus. She was with the Avatar and they were hugging Iroh, looking generally pleased to see him as they all say down for tea.
Bad dream. This was all just a bad dream.
He really wanted to wake up now.
But he didn't, instead he watched as Katara took a sip of her tea, wanting to run down there and rip it out of her hands, ask her what she was doing, but seeing her smile and how happy she looked, he froze.
“Zuko tries, and he comes very very close, but he can never quite match your tea, Uncle.” Iroh offered her a half bow and a warm smile while raising his own cup for a sip.
“And how is my nephew these days?” Jet started. Zuko? Was that Lee? Or did he have more then one nephew and, did they all learn about tea?
Aang made a face. “Always doing paperwork and being all 'Firelordy'.” Jet nearly fell off the ledge, just barely holding on, his knuckle white and body shaking. “We didn't get to see much of him but Mai said...” Aang trailed off and the cheerful air dimmed. Iroh sighed and pushed his cup away from him.
“There's been another attempt?” Katara nodded.
“Yes, and while his throat is still healing he can't bend as well. No healer got to it in time to do anything proper and he's paying for it now.” She looked away. “This one left a scar across his chest and a light burn across his back. I did what I could, what he would allow, but he's not admitting how much damage was left over from Azula's last attack on him.” Her voice shook and Jet ached, wanting to be the one to reach out and clasp her shaking hands instead of Iroh.
“I thank you for everything you have done. Know that is very much appreciated.” He smiled slightly. “I also hear you helped find someone stubborn enough to go head to head with my nephew. Something I didn't think was possible!” Aang grinned and laughed, lifting the darkened mood.
“Yup! Haru! Since he's Earth Kingdom and a bender he's stubborn AND can keep Zuko in one place!” Iroh laughed as Katara smirked, an expression Jet had never seen on her face and couldn't help but fall in love with.
“Zuko's not very thrilled with it. He doesn't want a bodyguard at all, never mind one that can cuff him and carry him off to his room! Although- I do like the outfits Ty Lee and Sokka came up with.” Aang laughed again.
“Yeah! They're really cool looking and I even got to try one on! You should really come see them! And maybe you can get Zuko to spend more time with us!” Iroh smiled sadly as he slowly shook his head.
“While my nephew may listen to my advice, he acts according to his honour, to what he feels his people need. And I feel, he is trying to make up for being away from them for three long years, for something he could not have changed. That scar will forever remind him of what happened.”
The wood beneath Jet's clenched hand creaked and groaned from the pressure of his grip, and his breathing became ragged as one hand nearly mimicked the unconscious movement that Katara made, reaching up to touch the left side of the face. Below he could see their mouths moving, but no more words registered in his mind.
Lee was Zuko
Lee was the FireLord.
His Lee was now the head of the Nation that had been his enemy for as long as he could remember. He was vaguely aware of his body moving, taking him back to the room he was staying in. Lying down on the small bed, he let his mind go back to the first meeting on the Ferry. First seeing Lee across the deck.
He remembered watching the way he held himself, the grace and authority that followed his every move, setting him apart from all those around him. A dignity that had been bent and tarnished, but never twisted, never broken and a rage that scared off any who would try.
He remembered wanting it. Feeling that desire grow as they moved together, fought side-by side and afterwards, the shock and pleasure when Lee let the food go to the other refugees. Asking only for his Uncle's and his fair share, nothing more.
Lee had been a mystery, something Jet had felt could fit the hole left by those still in the trees. Someone he had wanted at his back and in that foggy moment on the Ferry, he had thought Lee had felt the same, but in the end Jet was turned away.
And if he was brutally honest with himself, that moment hurt more then the following realization of what Lee and his Uncle were.
That, was an unpleasant thought.
Rolling over onto his side, facing away from the fireplace, he forced his mind to stop thinking. He only partially succeeded and his dreams were haunted by traces of gold.
A week or so later he entered the main room of the Jasmine Dragon during Smellerbee's shift, taking a seat in a corner and ignoring Iroh's welcoming smile. Jet had decided he needed more information on the whole situation before he made any action and so, he listened.
He watched the patrons carefully, taking note of the way they spoke, the way they moved, their smiles and their eyes.
And listened carefully to what was being said behind their words.
The war was over. Trade routes were open again. Machines of war were being broken down to become tools of the land. People were coming home, families slowly finding each other. But even in all that happy news, there was still an underlying fear, an emotion Jet held onto with all his might, one that reminded him that this was still the world he had left behind. He could see it in them.
They still feared the Fire Nation.
Sitting in what now seemed to be 'his corner' Jet sipped at his tea and dreamed of the trees. It was a way of pushing back the green-light that had almost become as dangerous as the red rage in his head. The trees were safe. In them he was free. So lost was he, deep in those familiar branches, that it took Iroh's uncharacteristic stumble to alert him to the fact that something was wrong.
Eyes suddenly focused and ears sharpened, he looked at the old man and saw the tension in his face, the way he lingered around one particular table. The occupants of said table never noticed and simply continued their conversation.
“Are you sure?” the woman asked as she set her tea down and focused all her attention on the man across from her. He looked grim and nodded his head.
“Yes. It's all the news of the docks and the whole harbor is talking about it. It wasn't as close a call this time, but far more public. They're getting bold.” The woman's hand trembled noticeably and she nearly burned herself trying to take a sip of her tea before simply giving up on the drink.
“Whose in line, if he dies?” It was said in a whisper, but silence spread across the room in it's wake. Jet watched as Iroh's face shut down as the man spoke.
“There is no male heir. No one quite knows Fire Nation procedures, but his sister still lives, as does, his father.” The colour faded completely from the woman's face and people turned away, all conversation dying. Iroh walked silently out of the room.
“Tell me what happened.” He had cornered Longshot that same day, knowing that the most honest and observant answer would come from his friend. Longshot gave him a long look and although he felt his stomach twist and goosebumps break out across his skin, he didn't look away. “I'm ready, I need to hear this.”
And so Longshot told him what he had seen. What he and Smellerbee had heard from Katara, from Sokka, from Aang and from the people.
He heard of the princess, spoken with such fear and rightfully so. He learned of the fall of Ba Sing Se, the 'death' of the Avatar, the failed Invasion and the fight during the Comet.
He heard of how fire and water helped reclaim this city, how the 'Dragon of the West' burned away his own Nation's flag and now runs a teashop and how a banished Prince helped take down a Fire Lord, defeated his sister and took the throne. And it was sitting there, listening to the words coming from his friend, seeing the hope in his eyes, hope that echoed back to a far way time when they fought side-by-side, that Jet made a decision.
He didn't want that hope to die.
Iroh didn't say anything when Jet walked into the kitchen. He simply smiled in welcome and offered a seat. Just as silently Jet accepted it and the cup of tea that was placed down in front of him.
Then he sat back and watched.
No one could deny that Iroh was a master in the art of tea. The proof was not only resting in Jet's hands and filling the room with it's calming scent, but in the way the other man moved through the whole process. The love and control that went into every detail and step. The way the leaves were handled and positioned. Mixed and blended with such perfection and placed in cups lovingly chosen to match them. There was also a beauty in his choice to lightly caress the pots and kettles, heating the water with a gentle touch and such calm that Jet did nothing more then flinch and grip his cup a little bit tighter.
It was an artform.
“Would you like to learn?” Iroh had noticed his attention and although the offer startled Jet, there was no hesitation in his acceptance. This was the first step and he knew it was the right one in the way Smellerbee's face lit up seeing him there and the way the matching light in Longshot's eyes grew brighter.
Jet places a hand over the kettle, feeling the temperature grow warmer, warmer then- just right. He added it to the leaves and let it simmer, the smell filling the room and mingling pleasantly with the blend Iroh was playing with. Jet left it alone and turned to fill waiting cups with an already finished brew, placing them into the waiting server's hands and watching them leave before turning to Iroh.
“How is your nephew?” Iroh turned to look at him, gentle surprise in his expression.
“He is well.” Jet raised an eyebrow.
“So the rumour of another attempt on his life is false?” Iroh's hands spilled a single drop of water and Jet had his answer. “One bodyguard isn't enough, is it?” Iroh's whole body seemed to both relax and stiffen in the same instant.
“No. It is not.” And in that moment, as Iroh turned around to fully face him, Jet could do nothing but watch as the man in front of him transformed from the friendly tea-maker, into the General Jet heard he was, the Uncle he had glimpsed on the Ferry, staring back at him with ancient and knowing eyes. Jet felt fear creep up his spine, but he stood strong and met gold-eyes, hiding nothing, knowing this was his first test.
“At one point you would have been happy to make those attempts yourself.”
“Yes.”
“You tried. You put him in danger, put me in harms way knowing it would hurt him.”
“I did.” Iroh continued to stare, then slowly raised a hand in front of him, palm up. Jet's eyes flickered down to it and watched fire spring to life above it. He jumped, hands automatically twitching towards weapons that weren't there. Breathing suddenly became hard and he felt the rage creep back into his mind. It twisted along his thoughts and found the gaping holes that had been warped and ripped open further by green-tinted light beneath the lake, filling them and breaking apart his control.
But he fought it.
Staring into the flames, he made himself see the red and gold leaves of the Trees and recalled to mind his friends. The new life in them, the hope. The peace.
His breathing slowed, but he could not force his body to relax until Iroh closed his hand and snuffed the flame. Jet took a deep, shaky breath and lifted his eyes to meet those of the older man. Iroh's expression was hard, but understanding.
“We'll work on that first.” And then he turned back to his tea, never once commenting on how Jet's hands shook as he worked.
“Again!” Jet shifted back into his stance, muscles tensed, waiting-
Fire shot at him from the left. He dodged and lunged forward, rolling under the next blast and launching himself at his target who simply moved to the side, sending a wave of fire out, causing Jet to flatten himself to the ground before using his swords to drag him forward and give him the extra speed needed to-
Twist out of the way of another blast that came too close to his face for comfort. But he ignored it and continued his spin till the hook of his sword was around Iroh's neck!
And then he stopped.
Iroh smiled over the steel glinting beneath his chin.
“Good! You're getting much better!” Jet grinned and moved his weapons away, not a drop of blood on them.
“Yeah, but you're still letting me get that close Old Man.” Iroh simply continued to smile at him.
“True, but that is the most important part of your training.” Jet couldn't argue that point. The first time they had attempted this, Jet had lost all control at the feel of heat moving towards him and had immediately gone for Iroh's throat with no intention of stopping.
The older man had been forced to pin him and when that didn't show any signs of slowing him down, knock him unconscious. The feeling of shame that greeted Jet when he had woken up surprised him and it took more courage then he had had to use in a long time to walk back into that kitchen later that day.
It had been worth it to see the relief in Iroh's eyes.
Now though, now he could move past the initial blinding rage and focus on the fight, keeping his cool and control. It had not been an easy or short process and he still slipped once in a while, but Iroh's patience, his friend's approval and the growing unease in the people of his kingdom made him hold on.
Accepting the glass of water Iroh passed him, Jet followed the older man back into the Jasmine Dragon, going upstairs briefly to clean up and change before joining the other in the kitchen.
There, while brewing tea and filling orders, another set of training took place. Iroh had seen his determination and after their first successful 'fight' he started explaining the rules of 'Court' to Jet. He explained nobility, the politics and rules of honour that governed the world Jet would soon enter willingly. It was so far removed from anything Jet himself had lived through it might as well have been another reality. Some days, when he thought too much about what he was stepping into, the feeling of being lost in a dream would creep up on him and he would have to sit with his friends and listened to them. Remind himself that it was real, he was awake and it was worth it.
Sometimes history was thrown in to the lessons as well. Other times little bits and facts on the ruling houses as if Iroh knew and wanted to make it feel more real to him. He appreciated the stories that came with the facts, little reminders that Iroh was not the only 'human' firebender alive.
He learned to be observant in a different way then he was used to. Learned how people fought ruthlessly with words, and how to move through and around the rules that wove the Palace together.
But he told himself that he would refused to completely change when he got there. Adapt? Yes. Change? No. He was Earth Kingdom and he would never become Fire Nation. Never again would he forget 'who' he was.
“Jet!” the cry was all the warning he got before a figure in yellow and orange launched themselves at him. He managed to get the kettle and cups out of the way before he was knocked onto his back and staring up into the face of an over-joyed, grinning Avatar.
“Uncle told us you were alive and alright, but I couldn't believe it so I had to see for myself and I'm sooo sorry we had to leave you! I didn't want to, but we got them back! We did it and-” Aang stared down his nose at the tanned hand covering his mouth and then grinned sheepishly down at Jet who used his other hand to push himself up off the floor. Aang got off of him and helped him stand. “Sorry, I was just happy to see you!” Jet grinned.
“I could tell.” He filled the last few waiting cups and passed them off to a smirking Smellerbee before turning back a nearly vibrating Avatar. “It's good to see you again as well. I heard what you did while I was sleeping and have to say, I'm quite impressed..” Aang's expression toned down a bit, but quickly rose again.
“Yeah! We did it! And Uncle told me what you're planning!” His grin got even wider. “That's so cool Jet! You'll look awesome in the uniform and Haru will finally have someone else from the Earth Kingdom to talk to!” Jet let Aang ramble on and on as he led him to a corner table in the kitchen, out of everyone's way. It also led him out of the sight of all the customers trying to peek through the door for a glimpse of the Avatar.
Iroh came over with a plate of cookies and tea for both of them and Jet was given a few minutes of silence while Aang (and Momo who seemed to know food was around) snacked on the cookies. He hadn't gotten a good look at Aang when he last he spotted him from outside the window, but now that he could, the changes were drastic.
It wasn't even the fact that he was taller or more muscled then the scrawny young boy he chased in the trees or fought beside in those green-tinted caves. No. What was really noticeable was the confidence in his movements, the grace he held himself with and the quiet dignity and wisdom that was growing around him, even while stuffing his face with cookies.
Now more then ever, Jet was glad he lost in the trees and proud that he regained a hold of his mind in time to help this boy help his kingdom.
He sipped his tea and let Aang, who had just wrestled the last cookie away from Momo, talk. He let him tell their adventures from his point of view. It was a long and very interesting story. One that matched with the basics of what Longshot had told him but filled in the missing blanks. The sun was setting long before Aang was nearly done.
“And then we met the dr-uh masters. And they taught us True Firebending!” Jet cocked his head in confusion.
“True Firebending? You mean there's more then one way?” Aang nodded, pausing a moment for a sip of his now cooled tea.
“Yup! It's not just about destruction! It's life and warmth, like the Sun! It was really cool! I mean, holding it was like holding something alive. There was a heartbeat in it and it was...beautiful.” Jet's doubt must have been plain on his face because Aang stopped and smiled, the expression softer then his normal grin, but no less sincere. And it was the age behind that expression, the understanding that made him trust and let Aang take his hands turning their palms up.
“I know, I use to be scared too.”
And Aang, the Avatar, breathed fire into existence and held it over Jet's hands. There was no flinching. There was no tenseness, no fear, no fight. Jet stared into the flickering creature, heat dangerously close to his skin and couldn't help the small smile that lifted his lips as his own heart automatically matched the beat held safely in his hands. Aang was right.
It was beautiful.
Jet thought he had know what it felt like to fly. He had spent most of his life leaping from tree branches that might have well existed in the clouds, but nothing, nothing at all could compare to this.
“How can you stand to walk anywhere?” Aang's laughter echoed back to him from on top of Appa's head.
“I avoid it when I can!” Stretching out on the sun-warmed saddle, with the wind whipping past and the sunlight shining down on him, Jet completely understood. It was all such a beautiful distraction from their destination, which they would arrive at today.
A year since he'd woken up. Seven months since he first trained with the 'Dragon of the West.'
Years since he was forced to flee his home.
He was now entering the Fire Nation.
After his first visit, Aang had often stopped by to chat and update him on what was going on in the world, hoping to help boost his chances of obtaining the Bodyguard position. More often then not Katara was with him and although the first few meetings had been beyond awkward, a friendship formed. It was still a little unsteady and Jet could tell both of them still carried guilt over leaving him to what all thought would be his death. It made them try a little too hard sometimes and he knew it would probably stand in the way of a truly close friendship for quite some time, but still, he appreciated their company and Katara had also been very supportive of his decision. She also understood, more then Aang, how difficult a choice it really was.
She had wanted to be here with him, since Aang had offered to fly him to the Fire Nation capital, but the South Pole had needed her more.
That was fine with him.
This was something Jet felt he had to do on his own.
“Hey! You can see it now!” Lifting himself up, Jet leaned over the side of Appa's saddle and looked towards the direction Aang guided them.
Red and gold. The colours assaulted him first as it soared to the sky in sharp spikes and crisp lines that somehow kept a sinuous feel. The Palace dominated all, but the whole city carried the feeling and even though Jet had never seen a dragon, but had heard the legends and he couldn't help but compare the Capital to one.
It was dangerously beautiful. Elegant and harsh with a grace and shine that distracted you from everything else, made you come in too close. Jet shuddered. A deep breath in and a slow breath out, helped him focus as he forced his body to relax. The closer they flew the stronger Jet concentrated on his own heartbeat, remembering the flame Aang let him hold and using that connection to help fight off the lingering rage and panic. Trying to control his fear.
It helped that, as they flew closer, he could see green and blue clothes mixed into the sea of red that flooded the streets, and he noticed open spaces on Palace Grounds. Spaces where all the sharp edges had been softened with gardens and ponds that acted as a subtle reminder to Jet that life could indeed exist here.
It was in one of these gardens that Aang landed Appa and jumped down to the ground. Jet followed his lead, leaping out of the saddle and onto the soft grass. He was standing on Fire Nation soil.
In a way it was kinda disappointing that the air didn't smell like ash.
Aang bounced over to him and latched onto his arm before dragging him across the half-wild lawn towards one of the many entrances into the Palace itself. Jet remembered Iroh's lessons and let his eyes move around, taking in his surroundings quickly and accurately. The Old Man had been right. There were a lot of places one could easily hide and all that spiky architecture made it all ridiculously easy to climb.
If nothing else, at least he could have some fun here.
Aang kept up a constant chatter beside beside him and Jet appreciated the familiar, comforting sound as they entered the Palace and Jet was instantly surrounded by an overwhelming display done in a distinctive, Fire Nation taste. There was no way he could even pretend he was anywhere else. As they walked, they passed men and women in uniforms Jet had once hunted with a single-minded purpose, people and children in colours he use to despise, and yet now, they all bowed to the Avatar before nodding pleasantly to Jet himself.
The whole experience reminded Jet of the day he woke up. Everything felt surreal and detached, as if he was living someone else's life. It was something that was happening that shouldn't even be possible.
Aang led to a small room where his new uniform lay sitting on a table. Here he stopped, smiled and stepped back.
“You can get changed in here. I'll got get Mai since she wants to talk to you before you meet Zuko.” Jet nodded and watched him go before stepping over to the pile of clothes. Slowly he shed the greens and browns of his homeland, carefully folding each garment before placing it on the table. Outer robe, inner shirt, pants and boots. All of it stripped away till he stood naked, facing the reality of his decision.
The pants went on first. Silky material in a deep blood red. His hands shook as he tied them up and reached for the pointed toe black boots. As each one slipped over his feet, his mind recalled seeing the footprints boots like these left behind in the dirty streets of burned down villages, the bruises they left on bodies...
A black sleeve-less, no collar shirt of a thicker material went on next, followed by the grey, red-lined outer shirt. That was fastened with a belt the same colour as the pants and Jet couldn't help but feel a little relieved. Never had he killed a solider dressed in grey.
The heavy, leather shoulder guard, also in the same colour as the pants, was a bit trickier to put on and the weight on his shoulders and around his neck was uncomfortable, but not unbearable. That left the last pieces which were thick, black elbow length gloves and silver arm guards. Finally, he was finished. No mirrors were in the room, but he walked over to the lone window and shifted till he could see his reflection in the glass.
Fire Nation...
Murderer.
The uniform filled his vision. He couldn't see his own face attached, didn't have anything to ground himself with. He was surrounded and could feel the red creeping into his mind, once again filling the never-healed gaps, creeping in and taking over his senses...
It was then, right at his weakest, that the attack came. No flames, but razor sharp knives came flying at him and only Iroh's training allowed his body to move in time. His eyes couldn't see his attacker, but he knew the direction and moved, knocking the table over and using it as a shield against the next wave of knives. The thunk of metal hitting wood helped to jolt his mind back to the present, pushing back both the red and the lingering sickly green.
Kicking out, he broke off one of the table legs and holding it tight, he waited, listening for a shift, a change in breathing. Anything to tell him where-
There! Leaping over the table, he rushed to the left, dodging and knocking the knives aimed at him out of the air until, finally, he could see, there in the shadows, a black haired woman clad in a uniform similar to his own.
More knives appeared as he dropped down low and he felt the sharp sting of one grazing his back before he got close enough to attack back. A slash down low forced his target to jump and gave him enough time to push his body up and reach out grabbing her arm and locking it. He allowed the knife, that instantly appeared in her other hand, to slash shallowly at his side in order to bring it within grabbing distance. Now holding both arms tightly, he shifted sideways and slammed her body into the wall, hard. His attacker made no noise at the move, but up close he could see her amber coloured eyes narrow and her lips twist up in a grin as sharp as her knives.
“It seems General Iroh was right. You're worth a chance at least.” Jet glared at her, pushing more of his weight against her.
“Well, I beat you didn't I?”
“Only because the Avatar and the General didn't want you dead. Besides,” she flicked her wrists and with a quick twist of her arms and hips, she freed herself and reversed their positions, pushing Jet into the wall faster then he could follow. A knife at his throat, cut off his cry of surprise. “I myself am curious about your history with Zuko.” She pressed the knife in closer, the metal kissing his skin without drawing blood, before drawing it away and walking calmly towards the door.
“The Avatar will be here shortly, after which you'll meet with our Fire Lord.”
“Does he know I'm here?” The woman stopped and looked over her shoulder.
“No. So don't screw it up.” With that she was gone and Jet let himself slump against the wall, ignoring the slight throb from the wounds he had received. He couldn't deny the grin on his face nor the anticipation he felt. Over a year later and he was still chasing the boy from across the Ferry. The thought was enough to leave the holes in his head empty, green and red pushed back by a rush of gold.
By the time Aang returned for him, Jet had righted the table, supporting it with the broken leg as best he could, and had re-folded his clothing. Aang seemed hesitant as he entered the room and took in Jet's new wounds, but Jet simply grinned and followed him out. Their path took them deeper through the halls, and he noticed that the guards seemed to multiply in numbers as they went along. But none of them seemed to be paying attention to either Jet or Aang, only glancing at the colour of their clothing and then looking away. Jet frowned but said nothing.
Aang had started chatting again and Jet could tell he was nervous so he just let him babble, listening close enough to know when to nod, but otherwise focusing most of his attention on his surroundings. He was starting to recognize the layout from his lessons and knew they were headed into the section dedicated only to the Royal Family.
And what bothered Jet more then the seemingly inattentiveness of the guards, was the silence. All through the other halls, even in the gardens and especially over the city, there was the echo of voices, of people walking and moving, proof that people lived there.
But here, there was nothing but him, Aang and the statue-like guards.
Mother vanished, Father locked away, sister under heavy guard and Uncle in another continent. Who did that leave Zuko with? He couldn't be any older then Jet himself and yet he was alone in these halls, forced to rule a Nation with all the eyes of the rest of the world on him. Was this what he wanted? What he had yearned for and brought about all the anger and pride that Jet remembered?
They turned around one last corner, and Jet was forced to suddenly stop and stare. Once again, it was the scar that first caught his attention and now it was the only thing that identified the young man in front of him. Zuko stood alone on one of the many balconies facing out towards the private gardens, not yet noticing them, which gave Jet a chance to catch his breath. His hair was a lot longer then Jet remembered, hanging messily around around his neck where it wasn't pulled up into a topknot and the brilliant red robes of his rank engulfed his frame, made him seem smaller and far more fragile then Jet knew he was.
But what really shocked him was the lack of anger. The tension was still there. The pride, dignity and determination that flowed through his frame, held him up and made you look still present. But the anger that caused people to hesitate, to back away, that, was now missing.
All of a sudden, Jet's gold-eyed memory was human, and he had just turned his head. Jet watched the one good eye widen and his expression completely drop with surprise.
“Jet?” The voice sounded young. So confused and broken that Jet couldn't help but grin, his expression softer then he would have liked.
“Miss me?” He started walking forward and Aang followed close by his side. Jet was pleased to notice that Zuko's stance shifted, ready to fight or guard, but he didn't back away.
“They told me you died.” Jet shrugged.
“I thought I did too. But I didn't, and now I'm here.” He stopped a few feet away and as Zuko continued to look on in confusion, Jet took a moment to re-evaluate the age he had first given the other boy. Zuko was definitely younger then him, something that was painfully apparent with the all-encompassing rage gone.
“But, why?” Jet smirked and waved a hand down to indicate his uniform. He didn't think it was possible, but Zuko's eye went even wider still and his confusion visibly grew, but a hint of the old anger also resurfaced.
“You?! A Bodyguard?! But you tried to kill me!” Aang jumped in between them at that point, hands raised.
“But he's changed! Uncle's been training him and we think he would be a good partner to Haru and-” he paused suddenly, scanning the are before turning back to Zuko and glaring. It's was Jet's turn to blink in surprise. He had never seen that expression on the younger boy's face, even when facing him up in his trees. “Zuko...” The words were spoken quietly, with just a hint of frost. “Where's Haru?”
“Uh...” The Fire Lord was slowly backing away from the Avatar, his expression now both stubborn and nervous. Jet could only sit back and watch as Aang, with a quick movement of foot and hand, created a wall behind Zuko, blocking off his retreat.
“So, you're out here alone, without a bodyguard. Again.” Zuko winced.
“Yes.”
“Zuko!” The sheer exasperation that one word was spoken with had Jet laughing out loud, causing Zuko to turn to him with a dark look but Jet only grinned in response. Aang on the other hand smirked.
“Fine. Jet, your duties start now and Zuko-” he glared at the other boy who quickly shut his mouth. “As Avatar I am strongly advising you to accept Jet as your Bodyguard and to stay with him until I find Haru.” He flicked his glider out and crouched down. “And yes, I'm telling Mai as well.” Then he launched himself into the air before Zuko could catch him, ignoring the scarred boy's panicked “Wait!”
And with that, Jet found himself alone with the Fire Lord.
He watched silently as Zuko took a moment to compose himself before turning and facing Jet, his expression torn between suspicious and hopeful.
“Tell me Jet, why are you really here?” Jet decided to be honest.
“To make sure you don't screw up.” It was easy to tell that was not the answer that was expected.
“Screw up? At one point I was pretty sure you thought me being born on this soil was a mistake and now you're looking out for me?”
“No. I'm looking out for my country.” He took a step closer, easily within grabbing distance now but he made no move to touch. “Right now, they believe you being on the throne will mean peace. And that belief has just gotten stronger with every day that passes. But every time a rumour starts that there has been another attempt on your life, every time they question what happens if you die...the old fear comes back. We've seen what this Nation is capable of.” Now he did move, slowly lifting a hand and pushing aside the neck of Fire Lord's robes, exposing the scar he had heard about back when Lee first became Zuko. The other boy tensed, but allowed the movement. “We don't want to go through that again. We can't.”
“You won't.” Jet's grin turned crooked but he didn't look away from the scar, his thumb tracing the raised flesh as it wrapped around the neck and down the collar bone.
They weren't lying, it had been a very close call.
“If you die, we could.”
“I'm surprised you don't believe that I won't cause that fear myself.” Now Jet did look up, his grip tightening on Zuko's shoulder, fingers bruising the pale flesh and thumb digging painfully underneath his collar bone.
“That's the other reason I'm here, Fire Lord. To make sure you don't . Or, at the very least, to make sure it doesn't last long.” As he released his hold and stepped back slightly, Jet couldn't figure out why those words made Zuko's expression soften, or why that, made him want to smile.
***
And....if you critique, which I don't mind at all, just be a little gentle. I'm still really REALLY nervous when it comes to posting words instead of pictures.