Where Words Fail

Epilogue 1: To die would be a great adventure

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This story is a fan fiction - nothing more, nothing less. It has been made purely for entertainment purposes, and is not meant for commercial gain. Avatar: The Last Airbender and all characters, places and concepts are copyright of Nickelodeon, Michael Dante DiMartino and Bryan Konietzko. All original characters are copyright their respective owners and are used with their permission.

SCENE DIVIDE

Then

It was a beautiful summer's day.

Okay, so - not here. Here, it was muggy and dank and rancid and it smelled notoriously like Pipsqueak farts. The bugs didn't bite him though, and that was a definite plus. They couldn't perceive him even if they wanted to; the one advantage of hanging around longer than he ought to. Still, outside this swamp? Beautiful weather. The sun shone, the birds sang, a pleasant breeze whistled past.

He'd wanted to follow them for as long as he could - to make sure they found resolution, that they did what was right by them. He wanted to make sure they found happiness. After all, they'd been important to him, and they still were, they always would be, even though a barrier separated them that could only be broken by taking that one last, fantastic journey.

They had no idea what would await them on the other side, but it was one hell of a trip. He didn't know where he'd heard it before, but whoever had said it couldn't be more right: dying was a great adventure.

Perched on one of the rough knuckles of the banyan tree, with one knee pulled up to his chest and an arm slung across it, he watched as the Swampbender educated them on what they had seen - on the "cruel" visions that had been imparted on them. How the depravity was just a mask, sort of a test, really - and how both of them realized that, yes, the hallucinations had been terrible, but also blessed. How one of them should get over his guilt for losing his faith, and learn to appreciate what he had...and how the other should realize her potential as leader.

Good. Fantastic. He felt himself beaming, and the wheat stalk clenched between his teeth bobbed up and down appreciatively. They got it. They understood. He had no hand in the visions or the definitions that his Freedom Fighters drew from them, but he was thankful that the Spirits seemed to read his mind anyway.

He sat as close to them as he could. Hell, he could have reached out and touched them if he wanted - but he knew (experience told him so much) that he could try as hard as he wanted to invoke some kind of physical contact, and they wouldn't feel anything. He could shout till his face was blue, and the only sounds they'd pick up were the chirruping of bugs and frogs and birds. He could even take a leak right there in front of 'em and only the banyan tree would notice and benefit. Maybe. He hadn't had to pee since...

So. Proximity was all he had, and it was a commodity running low. Time, too. He didn't have much of that - he'd already lingered for too long, and something greater, something beyond the mortal world, What Lay Ahead, beckoned for him.

He let the talkative one finish coming to their shared conclusions, and his grin broadened. "There we go. That's my girl," he said, resisting the urge to muss up her hair like he had done when...well, when he had the capacity for that sort of thing. Again, that time had passed.

They rose, and he did with them; he watched as they proceeded to climb down the tree's gnarled, lumpy roots, then vanish into the thicket of vines surrounding the tree itself.

He might not see them again for years and years...but they were well, they were happy, and they were moving on. Would they have hardship? Definitely, life was always willing to pop those up on a guy. That just made all the good moments so much sweeter, didn't it? In any case, he hoped that the time he could perceive them and be perceived by them did not come until much later. That would mean their clocks had run out, and they, like he himself, would be forced to part ways with everything and everyone they loved.

He crooked his head to the side and planted a hand on his hip, flashing the same renegade smirk his comrades, his friends, his family had known him for so well in life.

"You watch over her, Longshot. Stay safe," he said, chuckling. The corner of his mouth quirked as he echoed his dying words, "And take care, my little Smellerbee."

Pressure - something tingling and coy, something that had been building up inside him since...well, you know, finally relieved itself from him; still grinning, he let What Lay Ahead claim him, and the swamp, the world, his home, faded away into a glittering cloud of hope and promise.

Jet's days were over...but the Freedom Fighters lived on, and could not have been in better hands.