Synopsis: After the final battle, Steve gives you a ride home. But what should be a cause for celebration, instead leaves you angry and helpless in your grief. Steve is there to help.
It was over. Vecna was dead, the children were free and safe. You were back on solid ground, real earth, not that yellow, hollow void in the Abyss. After years of fighting, of struggle, it was over, and you all were free.
But Steve Harrington was wrestling you into the front seat of a car, Jonathan’s, you think, whispering under his breath for you to please, just let him drive you home. Your breath came in short gasps, eyes wild and puffy as you pushed back against him. You wanted to run. Anywhere, anywhere but here, on the way back to your empty house in the creaking woods as the thick veil of night pulled higher over your head. She wouldn’t be there. She was gone. Your sister was dead.
You hadn’t been quick enough to realize what was happening. When the military cornered the group at the gate, guns pointed, voices sharp and rasied. An elbow had been jammed into your temple and you fell against an armored chest, the cool touch of a barrel pressed against your cheek. You were oriented, you didn’t see it coming. But you saw her, Eleven, who stood alone in the gap of the gate. Your heart had dropped, everything in you screaming to get her out. Away from there, away from danger, back home with you in your dad’s old cabin. But the hold around you was too strong, too firm, and you couldn’t move.
“El, no!” you cried, eyes hot and watery, pushing fiercely against your captor’s hold. Similar calls rose from the voices around you - Dustin, Lucas, your dad, Hopper. You watched helplessly as she met your eyes, tears streaming down her own precious face, and you felt everything run through you in that moment as you saw what she intended, what was coming. El, your sister that your dad had found lost in the woods all those years ago, the little girl who had saved you, Will Byers, and all those kids you babysat for on the weekends. You loved them, and you loved her from the moment you saw her. She was too young, too gentle, turned into a weapon by those who would seek to destroy the world with her power in their hands. She came into your home, and became your sister.
You felt it all - the joy, the laughter, the deep, unyielding love. You cried out for her once, more, weakly, as the Upside Down exploded and she vanished, this time for good.
—
“Y/n, please, I’m sorry,” Steve’s voice was a croak, a plea as you pummeled your hands against his chest. “Please, honey, I’m gonna take you home.”
“No,” you sobbed, shaking your head, pushing him with the last of your fading strength. “No, Steve, she’s gone. Please, I can’t - I have to go back-“
“No, you’re not going anywhere. I’m not going to let you do something stupid.” He pushed back on you, firm enough to sit you solidly against the seat, and you realized your efforts were feeble. He shut the door and clicked rounded the other way, slding into the driver’s seat and turning on the ignition. He sighed deeply, head resting against leather and eyes slipping shut. Your voice was hoarse from screaming, face swollen and blotchy and under normal circumstances you’d never allow him to see you like this.
You loved Steve Harrington, you did. It was a love that grew from somewhere deep and warm in your chest, and it was your secret. But it wasn’t a secret - El had known, she’d figured you out as soon as she found the two of you and Robin after your escape from Russian soldiers. The way you looked at him, eyes trailing on his face much longer than they had before, when you’d sworn you hated him, that asshole. She’d seen, they all had, how annoyance gave way to amused glances, how your eyes would find each other first when either of you was concerned, how a soft blush would creep up your neck when he teased you, to which you’d roll your eyes. They’d seen how pathetic Steve was when you left for California with El and the Byers, always staring at your empty seat in the Wheeler’s basement, writing you letters. Robin, who adored you, gave him endless shit for it, and when you returned, she knew there was something in him put at ease again.
But that was a long time ago, before all of you knew what you were really up against. Before the upsurge in chaos, when the Upside Down and Vecna seemed like the most formidible enemies, not knowing the truth. There was no time for childish wishes anymore, at the end of the world. Not when your sister was being hunted, when Max was in a coma, when Dustin had changed, when everything was wrong. You loved Steve Harrington. There were times, moments, when you thought he might’ve felt the same…but there was no time for games. You weren’t a child anymore. But that didn’t the stop rapid pattering of your heart whenever his shoulder brushed yours, when your own eyes met deep brown ones, when he’d brushed your hair behind your ear and squeezed your hand before the final battle, and it had felt like old times.
You sat next to him now. Your breathing had slowed, from anguished gasps to shaky exhales. You felt hollow. And Steve sat next to you, head against the car seat, face reading his own weariness and grief. He opened his eyes and wordlessly started the car, driving down the road to your house.
You stared out the window, the shadows of trees whipping by and street lights flashing, warm and familiar. Steve gazed straight ahead as he turned down your road, and your throat tightened as your cabin came into view - lights off, no one home. Hopper had gone home with Joyce, you assumed, and good, he gets to feel happy, even a little bit. So it was just you.
Steve got out of the car, and you thought maybe he was going for a walk to cool down. But then the passenger door clicked open, and he knelt down beside you. You stared ahead. You couldn’t look at him. You felt embarrassed, ashamed, like you wanted to hide for letting him see you this way. But most of all, you just felt grief, that hollow, nonsensical ache of loss.
A small noise escaped your lips and you quickly covered your face with your hands. They were dirty, covered in dust and blood and bruises. The tears pricked again, hot and unforgiving. A warm, calloused hand gently gripped your own, bringing it down, and there, he could see you. You felt so stupid. So helpless.
“Y/n,” Steve whispered. When you turned to meet his eyes, you saw that they too were glazed over, his brows furrowed together in that way you poked fun at, but this time it wasn’t bewilderment that etched the lines of his face, it was anguish. Grief, like yours. He brought his hand to your face, softly, and moved whisps of hair behind your ear. His mouth opened, then closed, then opened again. What was there to say? Nothing he could say could make this right. So, instead, he reached down to release the seat buckle and slipped his arms underneath you. He pulled you out gently and up against his chest. The crickets played their song as he walked you inside, leaves crunching under his boots. The house was quiet, too quiet, when he set you down on your bed, kneeling down to take off your shoes and socks. You felt immobile. You knew that something irreversible had just happened, that your life, and you, had just changed in irreversible, unforgettable ways. You had no fight left in you. So when Steve perked up at the sound of your hoarse sob, when he quickly moved to bring your head against his shoulder, when the tears began and could not cease and soaked his army jacket, when he peppered sweet kisses along your hair, you let him.
“Steve, I’m sorry,” you sobbed out. You felt him shake his head, holding you tighter.
“Don’t,” he whispered. He pulled back to look you in the eyes and you saw him, Steve Harrington, the boy who had defended you against Russian soldiers, taking a beating for you. Who’s eyebrows had furrowed in that funny, cute way when you showed him Return of the Jedi and he had trouble following the plot. Who stood with you as you battled demodogs, who wrote you letters every week when you were stuck in California, imagining being near him again. Who let you push him away as the stakes grew more severe, as your need to protect and save the people you loved took priority. Now, he was here, lightly brushing tears off from your cheeks.
When night comes, I’m ready. I’m ready to sneak around, I’m even hoping I’ll get to chi-block one of these guards. I’m practically tugging on Zuko’s arm to get him to our designated meeting place.
“Come on, they’re probably ready!” I whisper. He’s dragging his feet to annoy me, I’m sure. When we round the corner, Jet is there, leaning against the wooden post of the deck. His eyes lift lazily to greet us, and his mouth curls up in a smirk.
“There you are. We ready?”
Zuko and I nod. I feel the excitement thrumming through me, pushing me up onto my toes and keeping me bouncing. It’s been too long since I’ve done a good heist.
We discuss quietly under the heavy cover of the night, murmuring between ourselves as the adrenaline grows. Jet finally nods and gestures for the group to start forward.
“Smellerbee, you take the lead. Scout out the area.”
I watch as she scales the wooden post, hopping above deck and disappearing. It’s a minute, two, before she pops back over the edge. “All clear,” she whispers.
Jet looks at Longshot, who raises his bow and situates an arrow with a rope attached to it. He fires at the tallest beam, just above Smellerbee’s head, who hisses in annoyance. The arrow burrows into the wood, and Longshot tugs on the rope, the material holding strong.
“Okay,” Jet breathes. He looks at me. He lifts his arm toward the rope. “Ladies first.”
Feeling a bit nervous with everyone’s eyes on me, I walk forward. I try to meet Zuko’s eyes as I pass, but he’s looking upwards. I wrap my hands around the rope and pull, lifting my feet, the strain on my arms becoming evident as I wobble. Hey, it’s been a while.
I feel a warm hand placed on my shoulder, and Jet’s looking at me with a grin. I flush, a bit embarrassed, and a bit annoyed by his look that suggests he didn’t expect anything from me. He tilts his head to the side. “Need a boost?”
“Yeah, please,” I say begrudgingly. He kneels down beside me, cupping his hands and reaching for my foot.
“There you go,” he whispers, his voice gravelly. “One, two, three.” I’m pushed upward, and I scramble to grab the rope as I pull myself the rest of the way. I reach for the floor of the upper-deck, grabbing onto the planks and shimmying onto my stomach. Smellerbee offers her hand and I grab it, using her to lift myself up.
“Thanks,” I say, watching as Jet pulls himself up effortlessly behind me. Then Longshot, then Zuko, who of course makes it look easy.
When we’re all standing, Jet points forward in a “let’s go” gesture. The captain’s quarters are lit with lanterns, and there is the soft muttering of dinnertime chatter. We hurry single file, Jet in front, followed by Zuko and Longshot, and me in front of Smellerbee. We sneak around the corner, waiting for Jet to give the “OK” signal. When he looks back at us, we reach inside the windows, sweeping the food that rests on the windowsills, just taunting us. I pull out a box, smelling the familiar aroma of spicy chicken that has my mouth watering. I hand it to Longshot, who hands it to Zuko, who hands it to Jet. When we have all the dishes out of the room, we sneak below the windows, back to Longshot’s rope.
“Hey!” A voice booms, and a heavy man rounds the corner where Jet is crouching. Quickly, I head the other way, going as fast as I can around the square structure. “What are you-” the man says, but he’s on the ground before he can finish his sentence. I jam my fingers into his pressure points, sending him crashing to the ground, silent.
I look up, standing over him. “They probably heard that.”
Everyone’s looking at me with surprise, except for Zuko, who looks unphased. When no one moves, I hurry forward, picking up a box and running for the rope. “Let’s go!”
I bring the box close to my body and grip the rope with one hand, pushing myself off the ledge and hissing at the burn on my skin. When my feet touch the ground I set the food down, and gesture for Longshot, who’s at the top, to hand me his box. I reach and grab it, and he slides down the rope, offering a hand to help Smellerbee with her’s. Soon, we’re all down, and we conceal the boxes of food with our bodies, walking quickly to where Iroh waits for us.
“Not bad, sweetheart,” Jet whispers in my ear. I jump from the proximity, and he grins. For some reason, I find myself grinning back.
—
“Oh my spirits,” I groan, shoveling another dumpling into my mouth. My words are hardly audible, but I can’t bring myself to care. “This is so good. I could cry.”
“I think I am,” Iroh says, gazing fondly at his serving of green curry. He’s right, I think I see the sheen of tears in his eyes.
“From what I’ve heard, people eat like this every night in Ba Sing Se,” Jet says. “I can’t wait to set my eyes on that giant wall.”
“It’s a magnificent sight,” Iroh sighs.
Jet looks at him. “So you’ve been there before?”
“Once,” Iroh glances down. “When I was a different man.”
Eager to stop this conversation from progressing, I lean forward. “So, what brings you all to Ba Sing Se?”
Jet meets my eyes, surprisingly serious. “I’ve done some things in my past that I’m not proud of. That’s why I’m going to the city: for a new beginning. A second chance.”
“That’s very noble,” Iroh speaks sagely. “I believe people can change their lives if they want to. I believe in second chances.”
My eyes find Zuko, not even purposefully. He’s staring out at the ocean, looking tense. “Yeah,” I say softly. He glances over, finds me staring, and looks away.
“What about you?” Jet asks. “You’re all traveling together?”
I nod, giving him a smile. “Yeah. I guess you could say we’re going for the same reasons. Just a chance at a safer life.”
“Hmm,” he muses. “Come to think of it, I didn’t catch your name.”
He’s speaking to me, not Iroh or Zuko, and luckily I’m not important enough to have my name reveal anything incriminating about myself. “I’m Y/n.”
“Y/n,” he repeats. He smiles, not the cocky, teasing one I’ve grown used to in the past few hours, but a real one. “It’s nice to meet you. You’re not a bad fighter.”
“Well, yeah, she could’ve told you that,” Zuko scoffs, his voice startling both Jet and I out of our focus. Jet sends him a look, and his mouth curls up knowingly. I glare at Zuko in annoyance. If he has a chance to be hostile, he’ll take it, even to the person that just gave us the best meal we’d had in months.
Jet stands. “Come with me,” he gestures to Zuko. He walks along the ship’s railing, and Zuko stares after him for a moment before following.
We all watch as they leave, curious.
I turn to Smellerbee and Longshot. “So, where are you guys from?”
They share a look, and Smellerbee turns back to me. “The forest.”
I nod. “Oh. That’s cool. You guys have known each other a long time?”
“Yeah. Basically forever.”
I smile. “That’s nice. Same with me and…him.” I stop myself before I say the name of the Firelord’s son, instead pointing in the direction where he and Jet went. Nice save. “What do you want to do once you’re there?”
She rolls her eyes, but I can tell it’s not directed at me. “I just want to, you know, live my life. Without the fighting. Without the Fire Nation.”
I look down at my lap. I play with the string of fabric from my shirt. “Yeah. That would be nice.”
The Misty Palms oasis is less like an oasis, and more like a water hole. More like a puddle in the sand. It’s evening, the sun low but still impossibly hot. My skin is damp, and I’m dragging my feet as I follow Iroh and Zuko through the small town.
Zuko scours our surroundings, the men cooped up in corners, the people leering from the scarce shade. “No one here is going to help us. These people just look like filthy wanderers.”
I roll my eyes. “We’re filthy wanderers, Zuko.”
Iroh stops suddenly, and with my mind foggy from exhaustion, I run into him. He barely falters. He raises his arm, pointing. “I think I found our friend.”
It’s an old man, sitting at a table and fiddling with what looks like a cheap Pai Sho set.
“You brought us here to gamble on Pai Sho?” Zuko hisses.
“I do not think it’s a gamble,” Iroh muses, and walks forward. Zuko meets my eyes with a tired expression, one I’m sure I’m matching.
“I don’t know if I can make it through this,” I mutter, watching as Iroh takes a seat across from the man.
“Me either,” Zuko groans, but nudges me along. We go to stand beside them.
“The guest has the first move,” the stranger says, and Iroh places a tile, the lotus, in the center of the board. I see the man’s lips quirk up, a curious and pensive expression overtaking his face. “I see you favor the white lotus gambit. Not many still cling to the ancient ways.”
Iroh nods. “Those who do can always find a friend.”
Zuko and I share a look. Huh?
The two place their tiles on the board, one after the other, until a shape emerges. I look at the pattern: like a flower. A lotus.
“Welcome, brother,” the man says. “The White Lotus opens wise to those who know her secrets.”
“What are you old gasbags talking about?” Zuko exclaims.
Iroh glances at him. “I always tried to tell you that Pai Sho is more than just a game.”
“Hey!” A yell sounds from behind us. Two men, dressed in Earth Kingdom clothing, are walking towards us quickly. “It’s over! You fugitives are coming with me!”
The Pai Sho man whips around in front of us and grabs my shoulders. I’m too startled to pull back. “I knew it! You three are wanted criminals with a giant bounty on your heads!”
“I thought you said he would help!” Zuko yells, pushing the man away from me with force. He stumbles on his heels.
Iroh places a hand on his shoulder. “He is. Just watch.”
The stranger rights himself up and points at the two intruders. “You think you’re going to capture them and collect all that gold?”
The effect is instant. Suddenly, from every direction, men and women are coming out of their places of hiding, knives, chains, and swords gleaming.
I step near Zuko. “This is helping?”
Someone yells, and the people run towards each other into a mob. I’m shielding my face, ducking, when Zuko grabs my arm and lifts me away. He pulls us behind Iroh and the stranger, and we duck inside a small door.The man closes it behind us, latching the lock.
Zuko is still gripping my arm, so I nudge him. He looks down and releases it quickly.
“It is an honor to welcome such a high-ranking member of the Order of the White Lotus. You must know may secrets.”
“What’s going on?” I ask desperately.
“Now that you played Pai Sho, are you going to do some flower arranging, or is someone in this club going to offer some real help?”
“You must forgive my nephew,” Iroh says. “He is not an initiate and has little appreciation for the cryptic arts.” He sends Zuko a look, but I can’t say I’m not on his side.
“Okay, but actually, is someone going to help us?”
They ignore me. The man leads Iroh to a small, hidden door, where someone is looking through from the other side. “Who knocks at the garden gate?” the voice asks.
“One who has eaten the fruit and tasted its mysteries.”
I shake my head. I think the desert is making me insane.
The door opens, and a short man steps aside to welcome Iroh in. I go to follow, but he turns back to us.
“It’s members only, sorry.” The door shuts.
I turn to Zuko helplessly. “Are we going crazy?”
He’s staring, annoyed, at the door, but then a tired smile twitches at his lips. “I think we did a long time ago.”
—
A thud shakes me awake. I lift my head from the wall where I’m slumped, next to Zuko. We share a look, both of us still weighed down by sleep.
“Is the meeting over?” Zuko asks. His voice is hoarse and raspy, which for some reason sends a jolt through me.
“Everything is taken care of,” Iroh says. “We’re heading to Ba Sing Se.”
“Ba Sing Se?” I question, rubbing my eyes. “What-”
Zuko interjects. “Why would we go to the Earth Kingdom capital?”
The Pai Sho man answers calmly. “The city's filled with refugees. Nobody will notice three more.”
“We can hide in plain sight there. And, it’s the safest place in the world from the Fire Nation.” Iroh chuckles. “Even I couldn’t break through to the city.”
A bell rings, and a boy enters the shop, carrying pamphlets of paper. Everyone turns to him. “I have the passports for our guests. But there are two men outside looking for them.”
“Okay,” the Pai Sho man says. “Then it’s time to sneak out.”
He ushers us near the door, where three large flower pots line the wall. He points, smiling. “In you go.”
—
We arrive at the ferry dock early in the morning. Our driver leads us inside, instructs us to hand our passports to an elderly looking man at a wooden desk, and leaves, sharing some cryptic words with Iroh that leaves my head spinning from lack of sleep.
We board the ferry and leave the port, and the sea air is welcome on my skin. After days of traveling through dust and grime, and a night spent in ceramic flower pots, I tilt my face to the sun, smiling. The boat workers bring us plates of food that look suspiciously translucent.
Iroh approaches us, dressed in an ostentatious floral hat. It’s too early for this.
“Who would’ve thought that after all these years I’d be returning to Ba Sing Se as a tourist!” His smile is wide and he adjusts the hat on his head.
“Well, you’ve got the look down,” I say, gesturing to his outfit. He nods proudly.
Zuko scoffs, sitting beside me, feet hanging off the edge of the ferry. “Look around. We’re not tourists, we’re refugees.” He takes a bite of his food, and I watch as his eyes widen before he spits it out. “Ugh!” he exclaims.
I chuckle. I wouldn’t have dared to eat it.
Zuko storms. “I’m sick of eating rotten food, of sleeping in the dirt. I’m sick of living like this!”
“Aren’t we all?” a voice drones.
I turn around to see a boy standing against the deck post, and…oh. He’s tall, his tan skin dewy in the soft morning light, his dark hair framing his face. He has a rugged look to him, like he has experience in the struggles Zuko was ranting about. He sweeps his eyes over us, and when they meet mine, I have to fight not to look away. He locks our gaze, his lips twitch up at the ends.
“My name’s Jet,” the boy says, standing. “These are my Freedom Fighters, Smellerbee and Longshot.” He gestures to two others: a very tall boy with serious looking features, and a short girl covered with face paint.
The girl nods. “Hey.”
“Hi,” I nod back. When I look back at Jet, he’s still smirking.
“Here’s the deal,” he says. “I hear the captain’s eating like a king while the rest of us have to live off his scraps. Doesn’t seem fair, does it?” Zuko straightens up beside me.
“What kind of king is he eating like?” Iroh asks.
“The fat, happy kind,” Jet answers flatly. He looks at Zuko. “You want to help us liberate some food?”
Zuko tosses his bowl of food to the side. “I’m in.”
I stand up. “I can help, too.”
Again, that smirk. Jet walks closer. “Don’t worry about it, sweetheart. Just let us do the work.”
I eye him steadily. “I can help. I think you’d rather have me with you.” I look at Zuko, urging him with my eyes to jump in.
“Right, yeah,” he says, a moment later. “She’s good. She can chi-block.”
Jet raises his eyebrows. “Chi-block, huh? That’s pretty advanced. Where’d you learn to do that?” I catch the flash of suspicion in his eyes.
“Self-taught,” I shrug.
His eyes linger on me a moment longer before he finally nods. “Okay. Regroup at nightfall. We're gonna have a real meal tonight.”
---
taglist: @aquaamethyst96 @kaygilles
a/n: AYYYY. FINALLY OFF TO BA SING SE. ENOUGH FILLER, LET'S GET SOME PLOT IN THE CHAT. IT'S SLOW BURN TIME BABIES.
for the want of the sun | chapter sixteen: another climb
a/n: hey guys…long time no see…
Zuko and I are by Iroh’s side the moment we hear him wake. It’s morning, and songbirds have found their perch in the forest outside. The sun streams through the rotting panels of wood, painting Iroh’s weary face in soft light.
“Uncle,” Zuko urges. Iroh breathes in, prying open his eyes. Zuko releases a sigh of relief, and so do I. “You were unconscious,” he says. “It was a surprise attack. Azula did this to you.”
Iroh pushes himself up. “Somehow, that’s not surprising.”
I stare at him in worry. “How are you feeling? I mean, obviously not great. I tried making the salve you taught me but I don’t know if I did it right-”
“I’m fine, my dear. Thank you.”
Zuko stands up and rushes to the kettle that we put on the fire. Neither of us really know how to make tea, we just used some of Iroh’s herbs that he had stashed away. I’d seen him do it enough times, but he makes it look easy.
He carries a cup of steaming tea over to us. “Here, Uncle. I hope we made it the way you like it.”
Iroh takes it from his hands gratefully and takes a sip. I see his eyes widen, his jaw clench.
Zuko looks at him hopefully. “How is it?”
“Good!” Iroh exclaims, a little forcefully. “Very, uh, bracing!”
Zuko gives me a satisfied smile. I give him a thumbs up, but when he turns away, I give Iroh an apologetic grin. He shakes his head with a smile.
Then, Zuko says: “Uncle, I’ve been thinking,” and I know that whatever he’s about to say is cause for concern.
“It’s only a matter of time until I run into Azula again,” he continues. “I’m going to need to know more advanced skills to face her.” He pauses. He sends the both of us a look. “I know what you two are going to say; she’s my sister and I should try to get along with her.”
I shake my head. “Um, no? She’s insane. And I’m not a firebender, so…”
Iroh nods. “Yes. She’s crazy and she needs to go down.” He pushes himself to stand, groaning as he does so. I reach out to help him but he waves me away. “It’s time to resume your training.”
Zuko nods solemnly. “Thank you, Uncle. I’m ready for this.”
—
He and Iroh hike up to the mountain peak in the evening, and hours pass before I hear the thunder.
I’d busied myself with cooking, mixing together vegetables that I’d found in the overgrown garden outside the cabin. There’s carrots, tomatoes…not quite enough for a meal, but we’re working with what we can get. I spend most of the day alone. My mind wanders, and my chest hurts when I think about things for too long, but the sun is out and the grass is lit golden in the evening and I convince myself that it’s enough. When the rain comes in, I watch it through the window, and listen to the quiet melody of the droplets on the roof.
When Iroh breaks through the door, obviously troubled, I stand, heart already racing. “What did he do?”
Iroh shakes his head, clearly distressed. “He wants to bend lightning. I told him he is not ready, but he won’t listen.”
“He’s out there?” The sky is dark, and the wind has picked up drastically. As usual, the mention of Zuko stirs anxiety in my body.
Iroh nods. “I’m still weak. I can’t…”
I nod. “It’s okay. I’m going.” I have no coat or protection from the rain, so I make my way to the door.
“Be careful, please,” Iroh says.
The grass is slippery under my feet, and the wind whips at my face, and I scan my surroundings for Zuko. I hope I won’t find him fried somewhere.
It hasn’t been ten minutes when I see him, figure moving slowly down the mountain with shoulders hunched. “Zuko!” I yell, walking as fast as I can without slipping. I call a few more times before he notices me.
I’m shaking my head when I approach him. “What were you thinking?” I yell. “Bending lightning? You know how dangerous that is! You’ve been out here for hours…” I pause my lecture when I realize that the drops falling down his face are not just rain, and that his good eye is tinged in red, and that his face is raw with emotion that makes him look like a young boy.
I fall silent, staring. The rain is loud around us. He won’t meet my eyes, his gaze cast down to the ground, and his shoulders begin to shake.
“Zuko,” I whisper. I take a step forward. I’m surprised when he falls into me, arms reaching, pulling me to him. “I-”
“Please,” he chokes out, and his breaths are short and fast. “I can’t-” He’s shaking, and I grab his wrists that are placed on my shoulders.
“Zuko, breathe. It’s okay. You’re okay.” I’m trying, but he’s not with me. Not really. If he were more conscious, I’m sure he’d recoil at the touch we’re sharing, at his vulnerability. He’d be pulling away, but right now he’s not, so I’m trying. I place my hand on his chest. “Zuko. Look at me.”
He does. His eyes meet mine, glossed with tears and rainwater, a dull brown. I recognize then what the look is on his face: defeat. He shakes his head. “Why does this always happen? Why is it always so hard?”
I don’t know what to say. I don’t have an answer for him.
I pull him close to me. His arms wind around my waist, clutching, and I’ll let him have this moment of respite. He’s quiet, and I almost don't catch his whispered “I’m sorry,” but I do. I just hold him. I hold him until the rain stops.
—
We leave the next morning. Iroh’s well enough to get back on the road, the road to wherever we’re going. Our ostrich horses managed to follow us, so we saddle them up, Zuko with his Uncle, and me alone. Zuko avoids my eyes the whole morning.
It’s later, when the afternoon sun is high and sweltering, and Zuko’s nonstop navigation has Iroh and I catching eyes that the day turns for the worse.
Iroh groans loudly, looking to see if Zuko noticed. When he receives no response, he does it again, until Zuko pulls back on the reins, closing his eyes in frustration that has me smirking. “Maybe we should take a break,” he says.
“No, please, don’t stop for me,” Iroh says, clutching his chest in faux pain.
Zuko glares back at him. “Get off.”
Iroh slides off the saddle, triumphant. I hop to the ground, my knees almost buckling as I hit the earth, and my body screaming in the pain that comes from sitting still for hours on end. But almost as soon as I’m standing straight, I leap back, an arrow narrowly missing my foot.
“Woah!” I exclaim, tripping.
“What was that?” Zuko calls, but the answer comes in the rumbling coming up the trail. A group of men dressed in red costumes surrounds us, an array of weapons raised. I step back quickly, coming to Zuko’s side, and he raises his hands in defense.
“Colonel Mongke!” Iroh exclaims. “What a pleasant surprise!”
A tall man with intricate facial hair lifts his head in disdain. “If you’re surprised we’re here, then the Dragon of the West has lost a few steps.”
Zuko glances at his uncle. “You know these guys?”
“Sure,” Iroh grins. Colonel Mongke and the Rough Rhinos are legendary. Each one is a different kind of weapon specialist. They are also a very capable singing group.”
I snicker. “Singing? Like acapella?”
The man glares down at me. “We’re not here to give a concert. We’re here to apprehend some fugitives!”
Iroh sighs. “Would you like some tea first? Jasmine, maybe? I’d love some.”
“Enough stalling,” the man scoffs. “Round them up!”
One of the other men begins swinging a ball and chain around, aiming at Iroh. Zuko shoots flames towards the group, while I leap over and quickly push at his pressure points. The chain falls to the ground with a clatter. When I look back, the men are slumped on the ground, and Iroh is pulling my arm to drag me to the ostrich horses. I grab the horn of the saddle, putting my foot in the stirrup before pushing myself to sit on top.
“Go, go!” I yell, kicking at the horse’s sides.
The three of us gallop down the trail, leaving the men in the dust. My chest is heaving as I try to catch my breath. I catch Zuko’s eyes, the shock prominent in both our faces.
Iroh breathes in. “It’s always nice to see old friends.”
I can’t help the look I give him. It’s been a long day.
“Too bad you don’t have any friends that don’t want to kill you,” Zuko snarks, steering the reins.
Iroh assumes a pensive look. “Hmm. Old friends that don’t want to kill me…”
hate when folk call the Sun “our nearest star” no you dweebs that’s OUR STAR! After everything she's done for you and you want to compare her to some lightyears away ass nobody called some shit like Guncho 785B? We're not spinning eternally around any old ball, we’re three deep in the window on board the Sol Train and she did NOT provide the catering, the itinerary and all the fuel to share credit with some two-bit Proxima Centauri hack. point to these nuts in a constellation while you're at it. i love the sun
spring is coming. Spring IS COMING. You will stand on soft grass again, and feel the sun kiss your cheeks and shoulders. you will eat of the same berries as the animals returned from their hibernation. you will hear the air alive with your collective breathing.
i hope march lands softly like a bird on your shoulder and sings the sweetest song for you i hope its light drenches your soul i hope it leaves you stunned by its tenderness and more hopeful than ever
annaxmalina
dailybridgerton
romaincrisis
dededos
vaporwave
turnnoffyourmind
