A/N: I wanted to explore the possibility of Sokka/Suki not working out and how Sokka would react...it's a counterpoint to 'Seasons of Kyoshi', I suppose.
Drowning
The fire whiskey helped. As Sokka downed another glass, he imagined the headache that would accompany his waking the next morning. He imagined it and he didn't care; because the headache would help distract him too. And his life right now was one long series of distractions. Stop and think for any length of time, and Suki, her scent, her voice, those eyes, all loomed up before him, mocking and cruel.
He was in the Fire Nation. That much Sokka knew for certain. What town, what grimy little village, he had no idea. The nineteen year old recalled taking a boat from Kyoshi Island, drinking himself insensate and then being hauled off once the boat reached some port or other. The days after that blurred, one into another, a dirty smear of pain and regret and anger.
"Look, buddy, I've seen your type hundreds of times; dumped and depressed and drinking their lives away." The gnarled old man fetched another bottle from beneath the worn and notched wood of the bar. "I was you once."
Sokka laughed and pointed. "You?"
"You want another drink or do you want me to crack the bottle open on your head?"
"Uh, drink." Sokka shoved his glass over with shaking fingers.
"Smarter than you look." The barkeeper grinned, his mouth full of rotten teeth.
Sokka cringed and waited for the next injection of the honey coloured liquid that drove him to oblivion every night. He sipped this time, curling his tongue, letting the whiskey pool, waiting until the burning became too much before he swallowed.
"Damn, you…." He wanted to say something about the skill of the Fire Nation distillers, but his thoughts and his words got away from him. Sokka reached out with his left hand, hoping to rein them back in. It didn't work. He let his hand drop down to the bar with a thump.
Grabbing a stained cloth, the barkeeper half-heartedly wiped down the wood. "Almost closing time; got somewhere to go?"
"Whaddyoucare?" The question came out as one long, slurred word.
"I don't. I just don't want to find you sprawled out across the steps tomorrow morning. I might trip and hurt myself."
The Water Tribesman pointed in the general direction of the door and muttered something about a room. He had paid for a few nights in a dumpy accommodation filled with roaches and other drunks. It suited his dour mood to perfection. Stumbling, he clung to the bar for a moment, his lean body swaying, his ocean blue eyes closing. Once some semblance of balance was in his grasp again, Sokka exited the bar and heard the door bang shut behind him.
He almost fell down the three steps and the dirt of the main road looked rather inviting. He could sleep there. It couldn't be any less comfortable than the bed in his room. A stray cat wandered by, hissing at Sokka before moving on.
"Thas okay, nobody likes me…."
Above, the moon hid behind a thick bank of grey clouds and in a moment of lucidity, Sokka wondered if perhaps Yue was ashamed of him. That possibility almost sobered the young man up. But sobriety brought with it memories, sharp and clear and painful and Sokka longed for another drink.
He stumbled and tripped his way, falling twice, to a ramshackle wood building. Somehow, he managed to find his room and sank onto a thin mattress, passing out seconds later.
~~~~0000~~~~
Sokka dreamt and in that dream Suki laid naked beside him, warm and happy and so heartbreakingly real. A smile, the first he'd managed in weeks, pulled at his lips and he rolled over, grabbing hold of the sheet and tugging.
"Come 'ere." His voice was a husky, seductive croon and at one time, Suki would have dissolved into a puddle of goo had she heard it.
Dream Suki faded. The morning sun, too bright and too hot, streamed in through the poorly made shutters and Sokka awoke. He wept for the loss of dream Suki and for the loss of the real woman. He wept for the pathetic state he was in and for the grief he must be causing his family. Eventually, his well of tears ran dry. He snuffled and wiped at his nose before crawling to the end of the mattress and dropping down on to the floor. The effort of standing and walking to the little washstand was too much. So he allowed his head to rest on the floor for a moment. It felt cooler than his pillow had and soothed him a bit.
Dishes clattered in the nearby kitchen and other guests found their way to the dining room for the complimentary breakfast. Smells drifted under the door, fatty meat and eggs frying. Under normal circumstances, Sokka would drool and be first in line for a huge helping. But this morning, he felt his gorge rise and covered his mouth in panic. Hurrying now, he pressed his free hand against the floor and pushed himself upwards. The stand with the washbasin was close and Sokka managed to vomit there rather than all over his feet or the floor.
His entire body shook. Carefully he poured some cool water into his hand, cupping it as though it were a rare gem, and splashed his face. He did that a few times and then rinsed his mouth out before grabbing clean clothes and heading out the door.
"Where's a bath house?" he asked the inn's proprietor.
"It's about time you had one. Follow the main street to the end. Should I book your room for another night?" She gazed hopefully at Sokka, tugging on her tight fighting apron.
"No, no, I won't be back."
~~~~0000~~~~
The world looked different through sober eyes and even more different when clean and comfortable as well. Everything had a sharp, clear edge and grief knotted in his stomach, feeling like a big lump of wet soil.
"Suki," he murmured as he walked along the road to the next village and the coast.
There was nothing to be done; the relationship was over, had been slowly dying for months now. That knowledge did nothing to allay the pain. Somewhere inside, he knew that staying in a relationship that had lost its spark, everything that once made it so special, would be worse than the misery he felt now. That didn't help either.
They'd had vague plans of marriage and family but some obligation or opportunity always got in the way. Zuko had told him that if they wanted their relationship to work badly enough, they would find a way. He and Mai had. The Fire Lord meant well, but at that time, Sokka just wanted to punch the concern off his face. But he was right. He and Suki hadn't wanted it badly enough to overcome their differences.
So they drifted and then drifted some more until the divide between man and woman was far too great to span. Sokka wondered if he could have done more, should have done more. He wondered if perhaps it was all meant to be. And he feared being alone for the remainder of his life.
He arrived at the village, tired and hungry. His body cried out for food and Sokka listened, stopping at a restaurant and eating fish and rice and vegetables, downing glass after glass of cold water. Sated, he wandered down to the harbour. Men and women unloaded fishing boats. Painted in charming reds and yellows, they looked more like tropical birds. The people shouted back and forth, told jokes and laughed; just being around the warmth and camaraderie injected Sokka with a sense of hope.
Girls stared at him appreciatively. He wished they were Suki.
"Are you lost?" One of the girls giggled behind her hand and waited for his response.
"Well, sort of; I need to get home, back to the Southern Water Tribe."
Though the end of the Hundred Year War smashed barriers and opened up travel, to a young, poor Fire Nation girl, the South Pole was exotic and distant, something she would never see. Her brown eyes bugged out and she took in his entire figure, examining him from brown hair to tan feet encased in sandals.
"Wow, what's it like there?"
Sokka puffed out his chest a bit and gave the girl a smile. "Well, let's see; even in the summertime there are icebergs floating in the water and the air is cool and sweet smelling…." He carried on for half an hour, the girl entranced, and found his need and desire to get back home grow alongside his narrative.
When he finished, she rushed off to her parents, told them of his dilemma, and then rushed back.
"My mom and dad will take you to Kyoto. You can get a boat to the South Pole from there." She was excited because she was going on the little excursion too.
"Thank you; maybe one day you'll come and visit me. I have a feeling I'll be there for quite a while."
~~~~0000~~~~
When the ice buildings of the Southern Water Tribe came into sight, joy and anxiety fought inside Sokka. He hadn't spoken to his family since his breakup with Suki. He'd wandered about in a haze, giving no though to anyone but himself or anything but his next drink. He was ashamed of his behaviour and worried how his father and grandmother, sister and Aang would react to his arrival.
He stepped off the boat along with traders, his red clothing blending in with theirs. It was Hakoda's sharp eyes that spotted him first. The handsome man's face split with unadulterated relief and happiness. He ran to Sokka, yanking him into a powerful embrace.
"Son, son, I'm so glad to see you." He pulled back then, inspecting his boy. "You're okay?"
"No." Sokka's voice cracked and his eyes spilled tears.
"I expect not." Putting an arm about Sokka's shoulders, Hakoda guided him toward one of the ice buildings. "Give it some time and let us help. The hurt will fade. It won't ever go away completely, though. You're best to remember that."
Hakoda's arm felt good and strong and right lying across his shoulders and Sokka experienced that surge of hope once more. He would survive. He would be scarred, yes; his heart's beat permanently affected. Sokka still witnessed sorrow in Hakoda's eyes, years after his wife's, Sokka's mother's murder. Suki was alive, at least, alive and strong and wonderful.
He wished her well. And Sokka wished himself the strength to do better.