Title: The Rest of The Story
Rating: PG-13
Pairing/Character/s: Jet/Zuko, Iroh, Aang and his little group
Word Count: 637
Disclaimer: I owneth not the sheer delight that is Avatar. How sad . . . But I do own this laptop, and a Hellsing poster. So it's all good.
Warning/s: Slash, death, and an authoress trying to write in the future tense for more than a paragraph.
Summary: They will not hear of it for a long, long time. Not any of it. And certainly not the important parts.
They won't see Iroh for a long, long time; but when they do, there will be flowers on the trees in Ba Sing Se, and the weather will be warm and mild.
He'll be much older now, and will look tired, dressed in the green robes of the Earth Kingdom and holding his cup of tea. Sitting on a low bench, underneath a tree, just staring at the garden.
When they greet him, his head will turn to look at them, but his eyes will be blank, and he will not speak. For a moment, he'll stare at them, and then he will turn away, looking back at his garden.
"He's dead," he will say bitterly when they ask what is wrong. There will be a moment of frozen silence, and then Aang will speak, innocent child that he will always be.
"How . . . ?"
Iroh will say nothing, and Aang will fall silent once more, ashamed and confused.
"Where is he-" Katara will begin to ask, but Iroh will answer before the words can come all the way forth.
"With the others."
He will say no more, and they will walk in silence to the cemetery, bigger now than it was a year ago.
They will find the grave, and they will find Jet there, for the first time in a long, long time, his head bowed and his eyes damp with tears.
"I'm sorry," he will moan, fists clenched at his sides, and they will watch him for a moment, unwilling to break in. "I'm sorry, so sorry, God I'm so sorry . . ."
"Jet?" Katara will call softly, her voice as warm and gentle as her eyes.
When he looks up at them, there will be anger in his eyes, and his voice will be pure rage. There will be no swords on his back, but they will step back regardless, for they will be unaccustomed to such a reaction.
"You fuckers," he'll snarl, voice low and cold and so hatefully pained. "What the Hell do you want, Godsdamnit?"
For a moment, they will be stunned into silence, and then Sokka will burst out with a response, furious and confused and tactless as always.
"What's your problem?"
Jet will laugh, and the sound will be harsh and biting and miserable, and they will all flinch, because hearing it will hurt more than fire or rocks or wind or ice or lightning ever could.
"He's dead," he will choke, glaring at them with all his pain and fury rolled into one emotion. "He's dead and it's all your fault."
The pause that follows will be long and awkward, because there is not, and will never be, a response to that.
"After everything . . . everything he did; everything we did and suffered through for this stupid country, it still wasn't enough for you!"
Dark brown eyes will be thick and raw with emotion, and his smile will be cold and mocking and terrible to look at. Katara will look down, Sokka will bite his lip and turn his head.
But Aang will keep on trying.
"Jet, whatever happened, we didn't-"
"You didn't send us that letter?" Jet will hiss, looking ready to lung at Aang any second now. "You didn't tell us how badly the sick needed to be helped, so if we could do anything, anything at all . . ."
His voice will trail off, and he will shudder, all the hate and anger and energy gone from him, so that only sorrow and loss will remain.
"Leave," he will whisper, and they will go in silence.
They won't see Zuko for a long, long time; by the time they do, there will be flowers on the tree over his grave, and the ground with be soaked with tears.
-sniffles-
Because if Zuko became good, I fully believe that this is what would eventually happen.
And, of course, I just had to work some Jetko into there.
Show me the loves, lovlies!
- Suzu