"Let's just get through this weekend," Lin stated flatly.
"I don't like to lie," Tenzin muttered shifting uncomfortably at the other end of the satomobile's bench seat. He'd wanted to just come on Oogie but Lin had refused to spend that much time stuck on the back of 'that flying sack of fur' with him.
"Then keep your mouth shut and you won't have to," she hissed back trying not to draw the attention of the driver who'd picked them up at the dock.
"Please don't speak to me like that," Tenzin beseeched her with an even tone that made Lin's entire jaw tighten. He wasn't chastising her, he was voicing a genuine request and it infuriated the young detective.
"I'm not one of your students Ten; I can speak to you however I want," Lin snapped pointedly. She didn't have to face him to know that his cheeks would have become mottled and rosy with embarrassment at the implication of his involvement with that little acolyte. Lin knew her name but she wouldn't lower herself to utter it. She also knew that the little acolyte and Tenzin weren't technically involved…yet. She and Tenzin had been keeping their split under wraps for the time being. They preferred to let the media slowly deduce that they'd gone their separate ways, presumably amicably, when they stopped appearing at functions together than risk the whole dirty story being aired out when their own tensions were still running so high. Lin guessed Tenzin would still take some time before openly moving on after their separation became public, partially to maintain a sense of decorum, partially because he was a coward.
Lin pinched the bridge of her nose between her fingers and let out a long sigh. A shiver ran up her spine when she realized Tenzin had released a shuddering sigh of his own at the exact same time. They were still connected… perhaps she'd never be able to sever the tie completely.
"Just the weekend… for Izumi," Tenzin responded.
"For Izumi," she echoed as the driver pulled into the loop in front of the Fire Nation palace. She opened the door and stepped out, smoothing her green satin dress with the tips of her fingers. The sun was too bright; she squinted into it. Out of the corner of her watering eyes she saw Tenzin rush around to her side of the car. He held out an arm to her. She looped hers through his and tried to pretend it was only the humidity that was making her feel light-headed. They both took a moment there outside the palace just to gaze at each other. They'd both been avoiding eye contact since Lin had practically turned Tenzin's favorite meditation garden at Air Temple Island inside out. She studied every inch of his face; the fine, happy, lines that were just beginning to form around his eyes, the goatee he refused to shave no matter how many times she only half-jokingly mentioned hating it, the slightly too large ears she'd teased him about relentlessly as a child, the pale, cornflower colored, tattoos she'd ran her fingers and lips over hundreds of times. She can see in his eyes he's doing the same thing to her. Cataloguing her every feature, suppressing the flood of memories attached to each one. They'd come so far together… it just wasn't enough.
She rolled her shoulders. He sighed deeply. They both prepared to settle into a performance of roles they'd long ago been cast in.
"Ready?" He breathed out.
"Ready." She breathed in.
For Tenzin it had started with his father's death. The knowledge that he was now the only airbender in the world had made his blood run cold and thick in his veins. His father was always so charismatic and full of life. He was the Avatar. But they still found themselves standing by as his tomb on Memorial Island was sealed, watching lanterns lit in his memory float into the sky. What if something happened to Tenzin? Everything Aang had worked so hard to preserve could be lost to the world just like that. Blown out like the fragile flame of a candle, leaving only the most delicate tendrils of smoke in its wake. Tenzin began to look at the children on the street with a primal yearning. Sometimes he'd even break his pensive demeanor and stop to swirl some small trinkets between his palms the way his father would do for them when they were kids. His heart would swell as the children smiled with toothy grins in awe of the simple trick. He'd always known the continued existence of airbenders rested on his shoulders and he was eternally grateful that his father, knowing what a harrowing thought it was, tried very hard not to stress it overly to his son. Besides, Aang had seen the way Tenzin looked at Toph's eldest since they were children, he had no reason to worry. Tenzin himself had assumed it would all happen in good time. But his father's death had brought it to the forefront of his mind with a startling sense of immediacy, one that would not let him eat or meditate or sleep until it was dealt with. He tried not to pester Lin too much about it. They'd been together long enough for him to know that haranguing his girlfriend would return no results other than a glancing fist. He had been settling for all in good time but now he knew that the time for moving through life lazily with Lin was over.