speak to me
. helium lost .
Author's Notes: Half-hour fic, inspired by Secret of the Fire Nation. No explicit spoilers. I fell in love with this pairing as soon as I saw it :) Enjoy!
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He had a way with words.
Smellerbee frowned with disgust, picking at her clothing. Everything she did, everything she felt… nowadays, it just seemed to nauseate her, throw her into an uncontrollable current of inexplicable anger.
They all had a way with words.
A cold, autumn day, with a sharp, brisk breeze whipping through the air. Flurries of golden leaves swirling up, dust eddying into little spirals by the road. A shivering, huddled figure, arms wrapped arounds its knees, eyes staring blankly at the unpaved ground, thinking only about shivering against the rapidly cooling weather.
Soft footsteps, and a presence before her, almost like a god. He was no more than twelve years old, but he had the air of a haggard vagabond who had already seen too much.
She looked up at him, and their eyes met. A moment of understanding passed, and he turned, as if to walk away, but he hesitated, shoulders tensing up. She heard him sigh, and he turned back to look at her.
"Yours too?" he asked.
She didn't need to ask him what he was talking about; she simply nodded. He held out a hand and helped her up, held her close to him to stop her shivering. Oh, she knew that it was just a friendly gesture, and nothing more, but some part of her warmed up inside in a way that she had never known before. This boy, he… He had an atmosphere of charm, exuded a radiant confidence that somehow lifted her up as well.
"We'll get them," he said, and as he looked into her eyes and saw a new, passionate flame burning within them, he continued, "Me and the rest of the Freedom Fighters."
"Freedom Fighters?" she breathed, savoring the words on her tongue. He nodded and cocked an eyebrow.
"Yeah," he said. "We need someone like you. Small, fast. And your eyes—we could use them. You see everything, you know."
No, she didn't know. But when he said those words, she began to look around more, take in all the details, observe and understand. She saw the shifting patterns and movements that no one else saw, saw the shapes in the shadows and the lines in the light. And oh, how she looked for him, how she wanted to please him so.
And she went with him, watching the things around him and keeping him safe, warning him about the dangers that he never saw.
He was blind, yes, oh so blind…
She grew out her hair, mimicked his ragged style, and tried to grow out her confidence, too, but everything she did to strengthen herself and make herself stronger disappeared with a breath of a word from him, a whisper of a phrase.
When he announced to the Freedom Fighters that he planned on flooding that little Earth Kingdom town, something wrenched her heart—yes, she wanted to please him and destroy the Fire Nation—she wanted to avenge the memory of her parents, wanted to destroy those demons. Yet… those innocent civilians… What made the Freedom Fighters so different from the Fire Nation if they were to wreak the same sort of wanton havoc?
But a murmur from him into her ear sent shivers down her spine and she nodded, acquiescing.
Then, she came.
He stole her heart—or maybe she stole his. It wasn't clear to her, and it didn't matter, because all of a sudden her precious eyes were clouded with an irrepressible, vivid hate. She tried to say that she hated the girl, but she couldn't hate her—she was beautiful, and she was kind… And she tried to say that she hated him, but, as the tears fell down her face, she realized that no, she could never hate him… she could only hate herself.
She wanted to destroy herself for letting herself fall ruin to that disgusting charm, and when she saw the signs of his destruction she let them go, let them run past her, those black and blue tendrils weaving and interlocking. And when the girl pinned him to that tree, some part of her broke free and broke herself away from him.
No, she still helped him. Her eyes, they were still his, yes, but after that day… she wasn't.
Smellerbee picked at a stain on her clothes, muttering to herself. And now, it was happening again. She couldn't hide it; her eyes saw those red threads twisting together and she knew that it was inevitable. And she was becoming more and more useless; when she was once as fast as Jet and the others, she was now beginning to slow. And no matter how loosely she wore her clothes, she still couldn't hide the fact that she was beginning to change, fill out into a mold that she was beginning to detest.
"I hate this," she muttered, wriggling a finger into a small rip on the knee of her pants. And she tried to ignore the soft yet infinitely loud footsteps behind her, tried to ignore that hand on her shoulders, that touch that told her so much yet told her so little. And he simply sat beside her, his hand on her shoulder, until she couldn't stand his 'words' anymore and turned and glared at him.
But when his eyes spoke to hers, when the words passed between them, her icy glare melted away and she began to sob, clinging to his chest as he patted her on the back, as she babbled and he listened to her and he 'spoke' in that way of his, every touch reassuring her and every breath telling her that he was here.
She felt the warmth of his chest beneath the smooth folds of fabric and heard his heartbeat as her sobs melted away into soft sniffles, and, with his hand resting on her back, she closed her eyes and cut those threads, knowing that she didn't need them to tie them together.
And she thought as she began to slip away into the clutches of sleep, with the full moon shining down upon them, that oh, he had a way with words, a beautiful way with words… and she smiled.
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Author's Notes: Numerous errors abound, I'm sure. Anyway, you know the drill: Leave some feedback, concrit, whatever! I'd love to hear from other Smellershot fans ;D