BROKEN BRANCHES
Here it is, the chapter that most of you have been clamoring for. Hope it meets your expectations, mates. Something wouldn't let me sleep until this was written anyhow.
Characters © Bryan Konietzko and Michael Dante DiMartino
Story © unicorn-skydancer08
All rights reserved.
PART 4: LITTLE SISTER
Had Baatar not talked to his parents and brothers and received their forgiveness so openly, he might never have found the courage to approach the one person to whom he owed possibly the biggest apology of all.
Even so, it wasn't until two days later that he summoned the nerve.
Outside his sister's bedroom, he fought to pull himself together. The door was already ajar, just wide enough for him to see Opal curled up on her bed with something that looked like a letter or report. She never looked his way, likely had no idea he was there in the first place.
If Baatar had been scared at his father's door, he was truly terrified now. His hands wouldn't stop shaking. His legs felt like sodden noodles. His stomach lurched, and he bit his lip hard and prayed he wouldn't throw up.
With his eyes closed and his forehead bowed against the doorframe, he told himself, It's now or never.
Sucking in the deepest breath his lungs could manage, he nudged the door far enough aside to poke his head into the next room.
"Opal?"
She lifted her head at once. "Baatar?" She looked and sounded only a little surprised to see him.
"May I come in?"
She held back at first, but eventually made a nod of assent. "Sure, come in."
Even then, it cost just about every fiber of Baatar's being to step over the threshold. He didn't see how he made it to Opal, but he made it, and eased himself into the chair that stood closest to the bed. He sat with his long legs spread far apart and his elbows resting against his knees, his hands tightly interwoven in an effort to subdue their trembling.
Opal folded her paper in half and slipped it under her pillow—as if Baatar would have read it anyway—before she sat up. Baatar saw that, unlike him, she was already dressed for bed, though sleep for her appeared unlikely for some time.
Next to her, a bowl filled with fresh moon peaches sat on a small table. She reached for one of those peaches, and then offered the bowl to her brother. "Want one?"
"No, thanks." Less than a minute later, he changed his mind. "Well…maybe just one." So saying, he selected a particularly large, ripe fruit and sank his teeth into it, using his free hand to stem the flow of juice.
He took his time to chew, to enjoy the heavenly flavor. After swallowing, he remarked, "I'd almost forgotten how good these are. Where'd you get these, anyway?"
Opal replied between bites, "Don't tell Mom, but I smuggled these out of the kitchen, just before dinner."
He arched his brows meaningfully at her and waved his half-eaten peach around a bit. "Ahh, a little housebreaker in the house, eh? You're lucky the cook didn't catch you."
She countered, "You're one to talk, mister. Remember when you used to keep contraband treats in your room?"
"Oh-ho, yeah," he said, chuckling heartily at the memory. "And late at night, you and I and the boys would have a real feast. I remember how the cook threatened the very life of the person who'd made off with that extra special egg custard tart."
Opal laughed. "I think he would still seek your blood if he knew."
The laughter died down soon enough, and Baatar found himself focusing on the floor.
When Opal spoke again, she said quietly but with a noticeable hint of coolness, "So, what do you want, Baatar? I know you're here for a reason."
With a deep sigh, Baatar set his peach aside, having lost his appetite.
He took off his glasses and ran his other hand along the whole length of his face several times, flattening his nose and pulling on his goatee. When he set his glasses back in place and looked his sister properly in the eye, he told her in his gravest tone, "Look, Opal, I'm going to be straight with you, all right? Understand that this isn't easy for me to say, but I've been meaning to tell you this for ages. So please, please hear me out. And if you don't mind, I'd appreciate it tremendously if you waited until I've finished talking."
Opal crossed her arms in front of her and leaned against the tall stack of pillows. Her expression was inscrutable, but her tone was mellow as she said, "I'm listening."
Even then, Baatar hesitated for another long, intense moment. It seemed to Opal that it might require surgery to get whatever was inside her brother out of him.
At last he said, "I know what you must think of me, Opal. You've hardly kept your feelings toward me a secret, and I just want to say that I don't blame you one bit. I know what I did was wrong, as much as I tried to convince myself otherwise. I know I've been a total jerk, a full-scale traitor, and a rotten brother. No brother could possibly be a worse example to his sister. No brother could have done worse things to his sister. You almost got blown to kingdom come because of me. Twice, in fact."
Though Opal said nothing, her blood turned to ice and her stomach clenched at both nightmarish memories.
She understood, as well as anyone, how lucky she and Baatar were to be breathing now.
Like the contents of a bottle when the cork's gone, everything else came spilling out of Baatar in a steady rush. The emotion in his voice grew with every word. "Nothing will ever make what I said and did right. I'll spend the rest of my life making it up to you, to everyone. I'll understand completely if things can never be the same between you and me. If you want nothing to do with me anymore, I won't hold it against you. Still, I want you to know how truly, truly sorry I am, Opal. I could never regret my actions more than I regret them now. I don't ask for your pity, your concern, or your love, only your forgiveness…if there is any to obtain."
The silence that followed this speech was almost deafening.
For a long time, the two siblings stayed where they were, staring at one another. Baatar was breathing hard and his heart was all set to burst from his chest. At the same time, he felt the tiniest bit of relief for having given voice to all of this; he had never realized just how much it had been weighing on his chest until he'd got it off.
Finally, her own voice little more than a whisper, Opal said, "Well. It must have taken a load of guts to say that to my face."
With a lopsided smile, Baatar rejoined, "A shipload of them."
"Must have been really tough, keeping all those things shut up inside you all this time."
"You have no idea. I'm worn out already and it's not even ten o' clock."
"I never thought I would hear such an apology from you. Better yet, I never thought I'd see your face around here again."
"To tell you the truth, neither would I." Baatar's shoulders sagged and his head hung to his chest as if his neck were broken. "Looking back," he murmured, "I can't believe I had the nerve to up and leave to begin with."
For the first time, Opal's eyes filled past the brim, and a crack split her voice like brittle glass. "How could you leave us, Baatar?" she blurted. "How could you just cast us aside like we meant nothing to you anymore? How could you leave us behind, leave me behind? How could you have allowed yourself to get so swept up in Kuvira's scheme? How?"
Baatar sighed again and buried his face in his hands. He shook his head several times before slowly taking his hands away and readjusting his glasses. When he spoke, his voice was quiet, almost impossible to hear, and laced with tangible pain.
"Believe it or not, Opal, I've been asking myself just that. Almost nonstop, in fact. Like I just told you, I know what I was doing wasn't right, though I was so sure at first that Kuvira and I were in the right."
Opal sniffed and brushed her sleeve futilely across her eyes, but she made no interruption.
With his gaze on his feet, Baatar continued morosely, "I don't know what happened to me. As you know, I got sick of living in Mom and Dad's shadow. It seemed to me that everyone only noticed me and appreciated me because of my parents. Being the oldest does this to you, I guess, but it felt like I had to do absolutely everything right, better than right. I always had to make an impeccable impression—not just for the people inside and outside Zaofu, but for you and the boys, too. You were free to make mistakes. I wasn't. You got to choose what to do with your lives. I got to be Dad's assistant."
Now Opal interjected, "I thought you liked being Dad's assistant, Baatar. I thought you enjoyed the work very much."
"I did. Most of the time, anyway." Baatar managed to lift his head a bit. "But it was more than that. You and the boys had something that made you special, something that made you…well, you. You, in particular, became even more special when you developed airbending. That left me as the only Beifong member without any bending abilities whatsoever."
At this, Opal sat stock-still, her moist eyes wide and disbelieving.
Baatar shook his head as he murmured, "Then Kuvira told me of her plans for the Earth Kingdom, and it all sounded so right at the time. Here, I thought, was my chance to do something entirely of my own accord. To prove to the world—and Mom and Dad—what I could really do."
He paused, then added as softly as ever, "And it was that pride that blinded me. I was too proud, too persistent…and I loved Kuvira far, far too much to see what she and I were doing, what we were both becoming. Too bad it took such a close call with that spirit energy cannon to finally knock some sense into me."
After another lengthy silence, Opal whispered, "Wow. Just…wow. I had no idea you'd felt that way, Baatar."
Seeing things from her brother's perspective, she now began to understand him and empathize with him as she never had before.
As he had said, his reasons didn't justify his actions, but she found she couldn't resent him anymore. If anything, she could only feel pity now, along with a touch of shame that she had never realized—or made any effort to find out—his true feelings.
Raking both hands through his hair, Baatar mumbled, "I wish I could go back and change certain things. I know that's impossible, of course. But believe me, Opal, I would do anything to make up for what I've done."
"Sounds like we all have a lot to make up for," Opal said, so softly that she wasn't sure Baatar heard her.
When his gaze met hers once more, he asked in his humblest tone, "Will you forgive me, Opal? I don't mean right now, or anytime soon. But one day, someday, hopefully—"
"Baatar."
"What?"
"Save your breath. I forgive you."
He blinked, unsure of whether his ears heard right. "What did you say?"
"I said, I forgive you."
"You…you do?"
"Yes, I do."
"You mean it?"
"From the bottom of my heart."
The look on his face reminded her of a drowning man who had just obtained an unexpected lifeline. He couldn't move, couldn't speak, could hardly breathe; indeed, his very heart seemed to have stopped.
Opal smiled at him as her eyes welled up anew. "I love you, big brother."
Now a genuine smile lit up Baatar's eyes, even as they also filled past the brim. "And I love you, baby sister."
Wiping at her eyes, she asked with a thick half-laugh, "Now, you're not going to get all mushy on me, are you?"
"Perish the thought," he countered even as the tears flowed without restraint.
Almost without realizing it, she got up from the bed and made a beeline to him. He opened his arms and she burrowed as deeply into them as was possible. He went so far as to lift her into his lap, something he had almost never done since she was little. She never would have expected a gesture like this, yet she never resisted in any way.
Not another word passed between the two of them.
But they stayed like that well into the night, hugging until it hurt and crying until they couldn't cry anymore.
Opal ended up falling asleep in Baatar's arms, and rather than wake her, he simply carried her to the bed, tucked her in, kissed her forehead, and doused the light as he slipped away.
