untouchable.
characters: mai, ty lee, zuko.
notes: for my wifepai, shannon.
…
Mai's fingers bite into her shoulders, sink in deep as if she's fighting for a grasp on something real. And maybe she is, Ty Lee thinks as she pokes out her bottom lip. She doesn't remember this closeness ever; it jolts her from a half-lucid state of sleep and alerts her to the other girl's presence in her lap, clinging to her closely. If she tips her head down, she can pick up the surprisingly floral aroma of her dark hair, slippery bangs curled with uncleanliness.
Imprisonment has settled uncomfortably into Ty Lee's bones, the dank chill of being in the cooler for several hours of the day sending involuntary shudders up the rungs of her spine. She knows it's part of Azula's punishment for her betrayal, but the skin threatens to slide off of her bones as she remembers the look on the Princess' face as she slammed the door on Ty Lee.
It'd hurt. Some inkling of her had always relished in her flexibility because it had been the device allowing her to contort herself into anything the Princess wanted her to be. But when she'd let that slam ricochet through the freezing cell, Ty Lee felt her bones grow brittle until they shattered under the pressure.
And here was Mai, coiled around her, almost as if she was trying to hold her together.
A whisper of breath and a chattering of teeth is how the other girl wakes up, a scream controlled on the edge of her lips as her eyes widen. Her chest heaves as if she's trying to catch her breath and Ty Lee frowns, extends a hand to drape over Mai's much paler, rail-thin fingers.
"They left us alone," Mai murmurs, her voice stained with curiosity. Ty Lee pats the ridge of her knuckles, offers her a smile that quakes from strain in the corners.
"They left us together," she corrects, shifts closer to Mai, "I don't think I could survive alone."
Somehow, the weight of her words lands directly on her chest so that the syllables wobble out of her mouth, devoid of confidence. She sounds scared, because she can't afford courage, not yet. The chill of the cooler doesn't leave room to cultivate anything but sadness and regret.
Mai's fingers curl on the edge of her palm, her nails tap into the center of her hand until Ty Lee is grinning again, and something like a smile is tugging the corner of her lips.
…
They use each other like a weapon, tucking their limbs into one another for safety and protection. Mai finds it advantageous to snatch warmth from Ty Lee's lips before they wrench her away to the cooler and Ty Lee has only five minutes to run her fingers over every single crescent shaped mark in Mai's back before it's her turn to be shut into the cold.
And when they are left alone, together, they mend all of the things they can, build up a mutually beneficial arrangement. They don't talk about it, but with the way that Ty Lee smiles into Mai's shoulder and the way that laughter seeps from Mai's lips every now and then speaks enough for the two of them.
They are untouchable to everyone else but each other; every time Mai curls her fingers underneath her ribcage until the nails break skin, Ty Lee is there to smooth away the cuts and warm her up.
"One day, we'll be free to do whatever we want," and the stars in her eyes are practically visible as she turns her clear gaze to her friend.
"Yeah," Mai twirls her fingers through her hair, yanking strands free with an aura that echoes her hopelessness, the feeling of we'll probably die here. But she listens as Ty Lee paints tales of a purposeful life outside of this prison, where status of the war doesn't directly tear their lives apart.
Ty Lee weaves stories together with glittering eyes until a yawn stretches across the space between them, until she's curled into a mumbling, smiling pile of red fabric in Mai's side.
She's almost certain that she's hated Ty Lee for a while now. She's hated her for the smiles that pry themselves under her skin, the smooth touches that sink into the self-inflicted marks above her hips. She hates Ty Lee for giving her the space of loneliness in the cooler, for drawing all of that longing from within her pores.
Mai wants to shirk away from the girl, huddle into the corner of their shared space, because she doesn't need her.
But she hates that her desire pulses dangerously with a life of its own.
…
Mai curses every inch of worry that pours into her head until she's shaking her head, tugging at dark strands of hair, hoping to pull these thoughts out of her head.
This is prison and no matter the years that span their friendship, no matter the feelings she can elicit, Ty Lee is a prisoner and she is tethered to a fate decided by cruel hands.
…
This may be worse.
"…And as long as I block them before the guards come back, no one suspects anything, really! They're all so friendly, and pretty, and they're really interested in learning!" Her eyes are wide and her hands are folded under her chin, and disgust bubbles in the bottom of her stomach for the fact that Ty Lee seems to drain all the feelings of imprisonment out of their cell.
It almost seems like they're having a normal conversation.
Ty Lee's eyes narrow and Mai doesn't notice until her nose is pressed against her cheek, her breath fogging over her skin. "I could teach you too, if you wanted to learn."
Something inside of her cracks at the recognition of the olive branch between them, as a whispering reminder that she is the only one who matters in this hell, the only irreplaceable thing here.
Mai shifts away, turns her head so their lips brush one another. "It's fine," she says without a trace of disdain, envy. "You're happy," she says, nudges her away with a bump of her forehead, go be happy.
But the acrobat still curls underneath the billowy sleeves of Mai's dingy clothes, where her greatest weapons have always been concealed.
…
Ty Lee's days in the cooler end and are replaced with tales about the Kyoshi Warriors and their village and the way that they infuse power into femininity, into fans and flowing robes and flawless make up.
"They all dress the same and look the same, but they're different, Mai."
Imprisonment has released its painful hold on Mai, so in turn, she releases her own hold over the girl in front of her.
…
Messenger hawks are being sent to the prison to release several of them at a time. Ty Lee is relieved that the group of girls she'd admired will be released, but it is Mai who encourages her to twist her braid into a knot, to blend into their group and leave.
She doesn't look at Ty Lee directly, but, you're happy, go be happy always rests in the back of her mind.
"I can't leave you here!" She argues although Mai tucks the end of her braid into a bun, rests her hands on her shoulders in that familiar grasp. It's the first public touch that has been voluntary, the most intimate.
"It's fine," she says, and moves past her to one of the guards behind her. She grips the corner of his armor, whips him into the wall. "I don't think the Fire Lord will be pleased to know you've imprisoned his girlfriend."
She keeps her face turned to the sharp point of armor and the trembling man in her grip until she hears footsteps shuffling away.
…
Mai smiles when they're reunited, fingers tucked into Zuko's shoulder and other hand splayed into his chest cautiously. Ty Lee's smile is generic, edged with a nearly unnoticeable sadness as she taps her fingers into the paint on her cheek, waves before she turns into the fray.
Mai feels that hatred of hers shrivel slowly, grateful she had never labeled it correctly. Perhaps that way it will float away into the dust of her memory, where she can no longer touch it, or dig her fingernails into its skin.