Author's Note: I was already working hard to get this ready to post. Then on December 14, 2012, there was a shooting at Sandy Hook Elementary School in Newtown, Connecticut. Here I was, writing about the misadventures of a fictional family, and then I heard that dozens of real families were suffering.
Now I can voice an opinion I've been developing for some time now: More "feels" are produced by the imagined misfortunes of fictional characters than by the real suffering of live people. I'm not accusing anyone; I'm at fault myself. But, as I wrote in my college essay about Les Misérables, fictional characters should encompass and represent real people, whose emotions and suffering we should sympathize with.
That said, I would like to dedicate this short story to the victims of last Friday's shooting, the friends and relatives who survive them, and all those who have felt impacted by that tragedy. If this story makes you emotional, direct your emotions to them. And seeing as it's Christmas, compare the Air Nomad family's evacuation to the Holy Family's flight to Egypt.
"Airbenders Forever"
The true soldier fights not because he hates what is in front of him, but because he loves what is behind him. ~ G.K. Chesterton
Meelo looked scared, clinging to his mother. Pema looked tired and fearful, holding her two sons close. Ikki looked slightly awed, like she didn't know what to expect. Only Jinora looked to Lin with sad, solemn eyes, her arms wrapped protectively around her little sister.
Lin grimaced, then braced herself. "Whatever happens to me," she said, sounding every bit the commanding officer, "don't turn back."
The last time they had gone on a trip, to see Korra at the South Pole, Ikki had constantly asked how long it would be and how close they were to the destination. Now they didn't even know what that destination would be. The children didn't ask where they were going.
Jinora tried to imagine Gran-Gran Katara and Grandpa Aang and their friends, traveling while they fought in the Hundred Year War. That's what this was like: an adventure.
Only the word "adventure" had a misleadingly positive connotation. Of course adventures weren't all fun. There was fear, and hunger, and running from danger. But it was bearable when you were with the people you loved.
One day, I'll write about this—our story. How we made our escape until our father and the Avatar could make our home safe again. She kept herself entertained with poetic language and focused on the details so she could remember them later.
Ikki crawled over to where Pema was sitting with the boys. "How's Rohan?" she asked, testing the newborn's name on her tongue for the first time.
"He's fine," Pema said softly, pulling the baby's blanket back so they could see him. Rohan was half-asleep.
Jinora also came up to them. "Can I hold him?" Jinora asked. She had wanted to do so right after he was born, but the rush of their evacuation had put off the time for sibling bonding.
Pema hesitated; the saddle of a flying bison didn't seem like the most safe place for the children to hold the baby. But she relented, and carefully held Rohan out for Jinora to take.
Rohan started to whimper; he didn't like being separated from his mother. Jinora remembered her first time holding Ikki and Meelo; she recalled how to hold a baby, swaying her arms back and forth.
She started singing softly, a song that could have been a lullaby. "Leaves from the vine, falling so slow …" She could remember her mother singing it, and maybe someone else too, but her mother's voice was the most distinct and clear in her memory.
Ikki joined her, leaning over to look at their new brother. "Like tiny fragile shells, drifting in the foam …"
Rohan quieted, and seemed to fall back into sleep again.
"Did I ever tell you what a good big sister you are?" Pema said, smiling at her eldest daughter.
"You might have mentioned it," Jinora said, trying to smile back.
"Hey, Meelo," Ikki said, "now you'll get your turn being the big-brother-or-sister."
"The older sibling," Jinora amended. Then she looked to Meelo. "Do you want to hold him?"
The five-year-old gave her a look that was slightly awed and uncharacteristically serious. "Here, you support his head like this …" Jinora showed him how to hold the baby securely, even in his little arms. Ikki kept one hand underneath Rohan, in case Meelo needed help holding him. Meelo looked at his brother in wonder, probably thinking about the fact that he himself was no longer the youngest airbender or the "baby" of the family.
"Can you imagine telling Rohan about the day he was born?" Jinora said, laughing a little. "I mean, years from now we'll be celebrating his birthday."
We have to live through today first, more than one person thought.
"Jinora, can you tell us a story?" Ikki pleaded.
"That's a good idea," Pema agreed. It would distract the adults from the danger and keep the children entertained.
Jinora hugged her legs to her chest, thinking. Recently, she had looked up her favorite Air Nomad legend. She had thought about it a lot lately, ever since the actual war started.
"A long time ago, when the Fire Nation attacked the Air Temples …" She saw her father tense at this; the Air Nomad genocide was a delicate subject when the children were present. Jinora had read about it in books, but it hadn't been fully explained to Ikki and Meelo.
"… a resilient young airbender escaped. Her name was Malu. She was about four years old when her temple was attacked. Her parents died, but she survived and grew up in the mountains of the Earth Kingdom. Even though she didn't grow up learning from a master, she still used her airbending to fight the Fire Nation and protect the people who passed through her home. Some say that her spirit still watches over the mountains and keeps travelers safe from harm."
Meelo looked confused. "I thought Grandpa Aang was the last airbender."
"He was after Malu died. She probably died of old age, before Grandpa Aang came back." Then, after Aang had died, Tenzin had been the only living airbender. Until Jinora came along. Now, hopefully, there would never again be a "last" airbender.
"Daddy, didn't you say the first airbenders were the sky bison?" Ikki said.
"That is right," Tenzin said.
It sounded like one of Ikki's trivial thoughts. But Jinora realized that she had hit upon something—something that could be monumental.
Had there been a time when there were no human benders? Had the animals taught their techniques to humans? Did they have to discover their abilities before learning from the source?
If there were still sky bison—either domesticated or wild—then there would still be airbenders in the world. And if Amon let them live—oh, please—perhaps their descendants would have the ability?
If so, there would always be hope for airbenders in the world.
It had been cloudy all day, but eventually the sky made way for the darkness that signaled night. Tenzin produced some blankets from their sparse supplies. The three children huddled together under one blanket, trying to keep warm in that high altitude.
"Try to get some sleep," Pema said softly. She kissed each of the children on the forehead.
"Good night," Meelo murmured, already falling asleep.
"I love you," the girls chorused. Ikki said it out of habit, retaining it as a bedtime routine; but the words felt more weighted to Jinora, at this moment. She didn't fall asleep quickly. Her mind had been on high alert all day, and she had even felt her first real adrenaline rush.
She heard Tenzin speak quietly when he thought they were asleep. "Are you all right?"
There was a sad note of amusement in Pema's voice. "I was about to ask you the same thing."
Tenzin sighed. "I thought it was over. I didn't think there would be anyone else who wanted to rid the world of airbenders."
Pema had no response, no comforting words of reassurance.
"Have you ever wondered what you would tell someone if you knew it would be the last thing you said to them? I've thought about that a lot lately, but I still don't know what I would say … to you, or to the children …"
"Don't do that to yourself," Pema said, sounding almost stern. "You can't think that way."
"Thinking that way is what's gotten us this far. Our family, at least." There was a moment of silence; Jinora knew they were thinking of Lin Beifong. "I can't believe … I should have said something more to her. I did thank her for coming—for watching over all of you—but I never imagined …"
"We'll make it up to her. I know it."
There was no reason to rise in the morning. Jinora tried to sleep longer, if only to avoid being bored while awake. But this became impossible when Ikki started chattering as she normally did.
Finally Jinora sat up and looked around. "Did we fly all night?"
"Yes," Tenzin answered.
"You should have let us know," Pema admonished. "We could have taken turns steering and sleeping."
"You had just given birth," Tenzin pointed out.
"And you need your strength."
Meelo was resting at the far end of the saddle, his arms flopped over the side. Suddenly he sat up tall and alert. "Airship!" Meelo screamed, pointing behind them.
"What?" Ikki yelped. The sisters clambered to the back of the saddle; Tenzin and Pema looked up fearfully. But all they could see were clouds in the misty early morning.
"I don't see anything," Pema said to Tenzin.
"Are you sure you weren't dreaming?" Ikki said.
"Don't insult my inelegance," Meelo said with dignity.
"That's intelligence," Jinora corrected with a slight smile.
Meelo said nothing, looking annoyed. Just then, quite a far distance away, they saw something black break through a cloud into the clear light.
"Oh, no," Tenzin said.
"How did they find us?" Jinora asked, looking to her mother. Pema had no answer.
"Oogi, yip-yip!" Tenzin snapped the reins, urging the sky bison faster and faster. But Oogi had been flying for almost twelve hours; even an animal as strong as him couldn't go on indefinitely. Jinora knew that Tenzin knew they couldn't outfly the airships.
Suddenly Tenzin turned around to look at her. "Jinora, take the reins."
Jinora started. "You're going to fight them?"
"Do as I say!"
Jinora obeyed wordlessly, climbing up to Oogi's shoulders and accepting the reins from her father. Now she shared in the responsibility of keeping their family safe.
Tenzin stood on the bison's neck. Pema looked at him, desperation and sorrow in her eyes. "Be careful, Tenzin!"
He nodded. Then he did something Jinora hadn't seen him do in a long time: he bent a sphere of air in his hands, then forced it underneath himself, creating an air scooter. She could barely remember the last time she'd seen her father use that technique; Meelo hadn't even learned it yet. They watched in awe as Tenzin rode the scooter down Oogi's tail and into the stratosphere, moving through the air toward the blimps.
Jinora had to look away to steer Oogi forward. She prayed to every ancestor she could think of that her father would be successful.
"Faster, Jinora!" Pema shouted a few minutes later. Jinora looked behind them, and saw that the airships were slowly but steadily advancing on them.
"Dad needs help!" Ikki shouted.
Jinora knew what she was thinking; she had half a mind to stop her sister, but she knew she would have done the same thing. And besides, the three children had stood their ground against the Equalists just a day before. (Never mind that there was no ground for them to stand on now …)
Pema didn't realize what the two younger children were doing until they had already extracted Ikki's small staff from under the saddle. "Ikki, don't—"
"Lin let us fight them on the island, and we won," Jinora said, looking over her shoulder at her family.
"We can do this!" Meelo declared. Ikki opened the glider and mounted it; then she crouched down so Meelo could climb on top. The little girl shifted under her brother's weight, then got a running start down the bison's saddle.
"Airbenders forever!" Ikki and Meelo shouted together, just before taking off.
Jinora was surprised and impressed. That was a much better battle cry than "Stay away from my dad's ex-girlfriend."
A few minutes later Jinora spoke over her shoulder. "Can you see them?"
"No—but the airship is gaining on us," Pema managed to say.
"Come on, Oogi!" Jinora shouted, pleading. At the same time, she turned around and reached underneath Oogi's saddle, where her glider was hidden. She had a feeling that simply outflying them wouldn't work.
The airship was about a hundred yards from them. Jinora wasn't surprised when she saw a line shoot out toward them. She leapt back onto the saddle, bracing herself. Jinora tried to time it just right; she sent a blast of air at the projectile, stopping its momentum; the tether fell uselessly downward. But before Jinora could congratulate herself, another line was shot down from the blimp. Instead of a net, this one had some kind of pointed projectile; it narrowly missed Jinora, but sank deep into the saddle.
"No!" Jinora sliced her staff horizontally through the air, but she couldn't cut through the line.
Pema spoke up forcefully. "Jinora, take your glider and fly away from here!"
"I'm not leaving you!" Jinora said adamantly. She wasn't sure from whence this bravery or stubbornness came. Maybe it was the Water Tribe blood in her veins. Or maybe it was a result of seeing Lin Beifong risk her life and sacrifice her freedom (and presumably her bending) to ensure the airbender family's safety. If they were captured now, that sacrifice would have been made in vain.
"You need to protect your siblings!"
"Rohan is my sibling too!"
Three uniformed Equalists were sliding down the zip line toward the bison. Jinora tried to slow them down with a blast of wind, but they continued down anyway, until they landed on the back end of the saddle.
She recognized the man at the front; he had a different uniform, which revealed the lower half of his face. He had led the attack on Air Temple Island.
"You again," the Lieutenant said contemptuously.
Jinora stood between the Equalists and her mother, holding her staff out in front of her, poised to strike. "Stay away from them!"
"Drop your weapon," the Lieutenant ordered.
"Make me!" Jinora tried to lash out with her staff, but the Lieutenant stepped back and ducked, avoiding the blast of air. Then, he reached behind his back and pulled out his own weapons—some kind of electric shock sticks. Jinora thought she felt her stomach drop at the sight of them.
"You won't escape," the man informed her. "You'll only hurt yourself trying to fight. Won't you spare them that pain?" He indicated the woman and baby behind her.
Jinora wavered, though she didn't move from her stance. She looked from the Equalists to her tired mother and newborn brother. They didn't know yet if Rohan was an airbender, but Katara had predicted that he was. If so, he was the Air Nomads' hope for the future.
She couldn't let anything happen to him—or their mother, on whom Rohan depended for life.
If she fought on this tiny saddle, someone would get hurt—herself, or Pema, or Rohan, or the Equalists—someone could fall into the ocean or get electrocuted. No matter how many scenarios she came up with, she couldn't think of one where they all escaped.
Jinora closed her eyes and bowed her head slightly. I'm sorry, Aang.
She let go of her staff, allowing it to fall onto the saddle.
"Good girl." One of the Equalists approached her, and suddenly lashed out, jabbing and lightly punching her in a few key places on her arms and legs. Jinora felt her strength and adrenaline drain from her small body. She knew her chi had been blocked; she wouldn't be able to free herself with airbending anytime soon.
The Lieutenant grabbed her wrist, but Jinora broke away to go to her mother's side, supporting her as she stood up. She held on to her mother's arm as the Equalists led them inside. "I'm sorry, Mom," she whispered.
"Don't be." Pema brushed Jinora's hair back tenderly. "You're very brave, Jinora."
She didn't feel brave, not anymore. This was worse than simply being captured. This was surrendering, admitting defeat.
Perhaps she cared more about saving her family than about saving her native form of bending.
She wished, more than ever, that Aang had lived long enough to meet her and her siblings. He had met Pema, and known her as a daughter-in-law; he had died believing in hope for the race of airbenders. Surely he would have understood her need to put her family first.
Once they were inside the airship, someone forced her hands behind her back and put something around them; handcuffs. Jinora was more surprised when an Equalist kneeled down and put them around her ankles as well, limiting how much she could move.
"Please, don't, she's just a child," Pema started to say.
"That child has already proven herself a menace," the Lieutenant said harshly. Jinora felt a strange mixture of pride and shame, remembering how she blasted him onto the roof of the Air Temple. Then, someone's hand clamped down on her shoulder, pushing her forward. But they were pushing Pema in the other direction.
They were being separated.
"No—Jinora!" Terror had entered Pema's eyes again.
"I'll find you!" Jinora shouted. She glimpsed her mother—for what may or may not have been the last time—looking terrified, not for herself, but for her children.
I made a mistake. If she would have been captured anyway, I should have escaped when I could … But she knew she wouldn't have had it in her to do that. She wasn't like Malu, a self-sufficient orphan. She depended on her family.
She was led through the airship's interior to a rather small alcove set apart by bars. A prison cell. Someone was already inside, bound and semi-conscious on the floor.
"Dad!" Jinora exclaimed, halfway relieved and dismayed.
Tenzin lay on the floor, immobilized by the bolas that had caught and electrocuted him. He would probably have burn marks or bruises under his clothes. At Jinora's voice, Tenzin seemed to wake up more, and turned his head to focus on her. "Jinora? No …"
The Lieutenant pushed Jinora into the cell, causing her to stumble and fall to her knees. "She was all ready to put up a fight; but then, she gave up."
Jinora avoided her father's eyes, studying the metal floor instead. She heard the screech and clang as the door was shut and locked.
"What happened?" Tenzin asked.
"Mom told me to escape, but they were about to capture her and Rohan … then the guy with the mustache said I should surrender so no one would get hurt …" Tenzin was silent, understanding. Jinora's voice cracked when she spoke. "I'm sorry, Dad."
"It's all right, Jinora. I would have done the same thing."
Jinora blinked back her tears in surprise. Her father shared an understanding look with her.
Jinora realized something, then. Tenzin, Lin, Korra, all adults—they didn't know much better than she did, when it came to decisions as hard as that. They could only act on their conscience and their love.
"Where are the others?"
Before Jinora could answer, they heard someone screaming profusely. "Let go of me, you can't do this, I haven't done anything!"
Meelo's words were few but forceful. "You will never win!"
"We got the other two," one of the Equalists said. A moment later, someone opened the barred door long enough to toss two more bound airbenders into the cell.
Jinora shifted herself to look at them. "Ikki! Meelo! What happened?"
Ikki answered in a rush, "We couldn't find Dad, so we flew onto the roof—on top of the blimp—but they found us."
"You should have stayed together," Tenzin admonished. "It's my job to protect you, not the other way around."
Jinora immediately felt her guilt return, hearing those words. It was easy for an adult—especially a parent—to say that. What were you supposed to do when you were a kid? Especially the oldest sibling, like her?
I shouldn't have let Ikki and Meelo go off and fight.
I should have said good-bye to Korra properly.
I shouldn't have wished for my life to be exciting.
I shouldn't have hoped that I'd have adventures like the ones I read about.
I shouldn't have spent so much time reading when I was supposed to be practicing techniques for airbending.
I shouldn't have taken my bending for granted.
I should …
Her self-berating was interrupted when she heard her father's voice, low and sorrowful, speaking mostly to himself. "I've failed."
For a moment Jinora wasn't sure she'd heard right. She looked at him with sad, confused eyes. Then she lowered her gaze, slowly understanding. He hadn't been able to protect them or save them. And if the airbenders lost their bending, then he would have failed his father, failed to perpetuate the Air Nomads. Well, perhaps he hadn't failed culturally—Air Temple Island and the Air Acolytes were proof of that—but take airbending out of the picture, and the most cherished part of their heritage would be gone forever.
"But … you taught Korra everything she has to know about airbending," Jinora pointed out. "And—there'll always be an Avatar, and sky bison." If only she could explain everything she meant—but she didn't like thinking about things like life and death, at least not when they were in this situation.
Tenzin's gaze softened on his eldest child. "You sound like your grandmother. Hopeful … or still trying to be."
He thought she was similar to Katara? That was the best compliment Jinora had ever received.
The Arena was actually one of the landmarks of Republic City that Jinora had always wanted to see up close. When Korra joined a pro-bending team, Jinora had hoped that she would be able to watch them compete there. Jinora had even wondered if, someday, airbenders would be able to compete in those games.
This wasn't how she'd wanted to see the place.
The four airbender prisoners were taken to some kind of basement. There was a weird platform with four columns—one for each airbender, they realized with a sickening feeling. They started to struggle, but the Equalists forced them over to the platform and chained their hands behind the columns.
"Jinny?" Ikki was the only person who called her that; as a baby it had been easier for her to say than "Jinora." Ikki looked small, as though she were folding in on herself, trying to retreat. "I'm scared."
"I know," Jinora whispered. "I am, too. But try not to let them see you cry."
"Show no fear," Meelo agreed, recalling some of their family's Water Tribe wisdom. Jinora wanted to smile at his good intentions, but she couldn't find it in herself to do so.
Someone walked slowly into their field of vision. Jinora recognized him from pictures she had glimpsed in the newspapers that Korra and the White Lotus sometimes left lying around. He walked up and stood in front of them, his hands clasped behind his back, surveying them through the eyeholes in his mask.
"So these are the last airbenders. I've wanted to meet you for a long time."
"Amon!" Tenzin was more angry than afraid. "Why have you brought us here, of all places?"
"Are you gonna take our airbending away?" Ikki blurted out.
"That's the reason you're here," Amon said coolly. "The rally that is about to start will celebrate the end of airbending."
Jinora gasped; Ikki shouted in protest; Tenzin looked even paler than usual.
"Korra will save us," Meelo said, trying to sound defiant.
"I'm sure she'll try," was Amon's cool response.
Jinora understood then, with the intuition she had gained from reading so many stories about wars and enemies. Capturing the airbending family had been a priority because they served a dual purpose. "Meelo," Jinora said, "that's what he wants. He's hoping Korra will come to this rally, and we'll be the bait for her to come fight him."
The masked man turned to look directly at her. Jinora could barely breathe. "You're a smart one," Amon said. "Perhaps someday you'll understand what I'm doing for you."
For us? Jinora's face was torn between incredulity and something that might have been disgust; but Amon didn't see it as he walked away to confer with his followers.
He thought he was doing them a favor by taking away their bending. The children were still young; they would grow up differently without their bending influencing their lives.
Usually Jinora liked irony, when she read about it in certain situations described in her books. Sometimes it could even be amusing. But now—she couldn't imagine laughing at the situation they were in now.
"Listen to me, all three of you." The children looked up at their father. His tone was stern, but there was something sad and fierce in his eyes. "I hope you will never be ashamed of your bending, or your heritage." His gray eyes softened slightly. "I couldn't be more proud of you—as a master, and as a father."
Jinora sniffed, willing herself not to cry. "Thanks, Dad."
She realized something, then. It didn't matter whether she got her arrow tattoos or had airbender children. Even if they lost their raw abilities, they would never lose what they had learned from Tenzin—the forms, the customs, the history. They were Air Nomads, and no one could take away that part of their identity.
Jinora turned her head to look at Ikki and Meelo on her left. "Remember what you said, before you jumped off the bison?"
Her little brother and sister nodded.
"Airbenders forever," the three siblings said in hushed unison.
It was the last thing they said before the Equalist guards tied gags around their heads. The family still looked scared, but there was something in the children's eyes that made Tenzin think they understood. They would face this with sorrow, but not shame or resignation.
Disclaimer: Malu is not my creation. She is a character in the ATLA trading card game. She has been mentioned in some other fan fiction stories.