A/N So I'm back on this story. Yay! Unfortunately, my life is about to become a scrambled complicated mess of moving and flying and all sorts of fun stuff. I'm excited! But that means that my updates are going to continue to be very inconsistent. Thanks for all your patience, and go and read my completed stories (there's more than you may think ;])
Chapter 7
The Mechanist shivered in the cool night air, but the breeze felt good after the scorching heat of the day. It felt as if the heat wave that had held the city was finally giving way. Not that the Mechanist had spent much time in the worst of the heat. His days for the past few months had been spent in his workshop in the company's basement working on the car he had designed for Gyatso. It was more difficult than he thought it would be, but it felt good to feel his tools in his hands again.
Looking around the street, the Mechanist realized for the first time that he was alone. Frowning he checked his watch. It was well after midnight and it seemed that he was the only one working late. His phone rang, cutting through the quiet night.
"Hello?'
"Dad?" his son's voice came through the line.
"Teo!" The Mechanist said, in surprise. "What are you still doing up?"
"You the Mechanist?" a strange man asked. The Mechanist pulled the phone away and looked at it. How had it switched over to a new call? It hadn't. The Mechanist's home phone number was still on the phone's screen. In the background, he could hear scuffling and Teo grunting angrily.
"Who are you?" the Mechanist demanded. "Let my son go!"
"I don't think you're in a position to make demands," the man said harshly. Teo whimpered in pain. The Mechanist clutched the phone to his ear desperately.
"Don't hurt him!" the Mechanist pleaded. "Please! Just tell me what you want."
"That's better," the man said, smugly. "Tell me, what kind of father leaves a cripple son on his own?"
"Don't talk to my father that way!" Teo protested angrily. The man cried out in pain and the Mechanist heard the sound of flesh hitting flesh. The man had hit Teo.
"You ought to teach your brat not to bite," the man hissed angrily.
"He's a little boy!" The Mechanist fought back tears. "He's scared."
"Whatever," the man growled.
"Please tell me what you want," the Mechanist begged.
"I represent some very powerful interests," the man explained. "You're standing in the way of my employer and he asked me to issue you your pink slip." The Mechanist went silent. He was utterly confused.
"I...don't understand…"
"You're going to dissolve your partnership with Gyatso. My employer feels you are wasting your talents and wants you to go back to more useful endeavors." The Mechanist stood frozen in the middle of the empty sidewalk. Anger welled up in his chest.
"And if I refuse?" he asked when he could control his voice again. The man didn't answer. Instead, Teo cried out in pain. The Mechanist's anger melted into desperate fear. "Alright! Alright! I'll do it! Leave my son alone!"
"I thought you'd see it my way," the man said. The screaming stopped, but the Mechanist could still hear Teo whimpering. He dug around his pocket for his car keys and hurried to his car.
"Who are you working for?" the Mechanist demanded as he fumbled with his key. He managed to get the key into the ignition.
"That's not your concern for now," the man told him. "All you need to know is that they'll be in touch when you're needed, and you'll be compensated nicely for your trouble. Come on home to your boy. I'll be long gone before you get here." The line went dead. The Mechanist gritted his teeth and peeled off down the street. He had sworn that he was done with war machines ten years ago. He promised over his wife's grave that he was done with an industry that had kept him from his young family and for ten years he had succeeded. Now it seemed he was being dragged back into it. His hands tightened around the steering wheel and his foot pressed the accelerator a bit harder. He would find whoever was behind this and…and…
And?
He took his foot off the gas and sighed. He knew what he would do. Nothing. They had threatened his son, and he knew he wasn't going to be able to handle a threat like that with force. He would do what he had to do. He would kill innocent people and aid murderers in order to protect his son. What were those people to him, anyway? He would never see their faces or know their names. He could live with the guilt. As long as he could protect his son; that was all that really mattered.
-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-
Zuko didn't know why he was sneaking back into his house. He was a grown man, and he hadn't had a curfew since he was sixteen. Yet here he was, creeping into his apartment, with his shoes in his hands, like some high schooler facing grounding. He rolled his eyes at himself and avoided the creaky spot in the doorway.
It wasn't actually very late. Zuko and Katara had gone for ice cream and eaten walked through the park. Afterwards, they went out to get some dinner.
"I can't remember the last time I had dinner before dessert," Zuko laughed after the waitress had taken their order.
"That's sad," Katara said, shaking her head. "Well, it's a good thing you've got me around!"
They went out for more ice cream after dinner and ate it on the way back home. They made it back to the building around nine and after Zuko walked Katara to her door- on her insistence, because that's what gentlemen did- he went to his own floor. It was dark and quiet, meaning that his father and sister had either gone to bed, or were holed up working on their own projects. Either way, Zuko decided he would just as soon avoid seeing them- especially his father who hadn't quite forgiven him for the meeting debacle.
The coast was clear. Zuko made it to his bedroom. He had just slipped in and was about to close the door when suddenly the hall way was filled with a dim light.
"Zuko." He cringed and turned towards his father who was standing in the doorway of his office. With the light hitting him from behind, it was difficult for Zuko to see Ozai's face. He was an intimidating shadow, and Zuko was sure he had done it on purpose.
"Father," Zuko replied, inclining his head slightly.
"Where have you been?" Ozai asked. He sounded disinterested, but Zuko knew that his father never made inquiries just to be polite.
"I was working on a project for school, " Zuko told him, hesitantly. Ozai said nothing, he turned back into his office, leaving his door open. Zuko sighed, but took the hint and walked down the hall. Ozai was already at his desk again and pouring over some paperwork by the time Zuko walked in.
"Close the door," he ordered, without looking up. Zuko shut the door behind him and walked over to Ozai's desk. He hesitated a moment, and then sat in the chair across from his father. Ozai looked up, affronted at the bold move.
"I didn't tell you to sit," Ozai said calmly. Zuko felt his heart leap into his throat, but he replied just as calmly.
"You didn't," Zuko agreed. Ozai stared him coldly, but Zuko held his gaze levelly, though he could feel his cheeks flush. He had just challenged his father's authority by sitting without his permission.
But it's such a stupid rule, Zuko thought. I'm his son, not his employee.
The move seemed to work. Ozai's posture didn't change, and his face stayed the same, but there was a new gleam in his eyes. Zuko could almost call it respect. It passed quickly. Ozai stood up and walked around to the front of the desk and stood over his son.
"I have thought about what happened today," Ozai said after a moment, "I will admit that I was impressed that you thought to speak up at all during the meeting." Zuko looked at his father in surprise, and Ozai continued, "It was foolish and misguided, true. But it shows an initiative that I didn't think you had in you. With some guidance, you may make something of yourself yet." Zuko felt overwhelmingly confused. This was the closest Ozai had ever come to complimenting him in his entire life.
"You aren't upset?" Zuko asked. Ozai's amber eyes flashed angrily.
"I'm furious," he answered quietly. "If you ever pull a stunt like that again, make no mistake, I will punish you." That was no idle threat, and despite himself Zuko shivered. He held his father's eyes for a long moment, and finally looked down.
"Understood…sir." Ozai smirked slightly at the acquiescence.
"Good." Ozai walked back around to his chair. "You may go." Zuko stood and headed for the door. He stopped and turned back to Ozai.
"Yes?" his father asked without looking up from his work. Zuko hesitated before he spoke.
"I have a project for school," he explained. "My partner and I have to go over a company's past performance to predict future growth prospects. I…that is, we…thought we could use Sozin for the project. If…if you'd be willing to give us the records for the past three years."
"Fine," Ozai said curtly. "I'll have the print outs for you tomorrow. Is that all?" Zuko nodded silently and Ozai dismissed him with a wave. Out in the hall, Zuko breathed a sigh of relief. The air in Ozai's office was stale and heavy. The closer he got to his room, the freer the air felt. Zuko paused outside of his door, and then kept going towards the front door. He was on the elevator before he realized he was going to Katara's apartment.
Zuko knocked on her door and waited for Katara to open the door. There was no answer, so he knocked again.
"Door's open!" Katara yelled. Frowning, Zuko let himself in. Katara was nowhere to be found in the living room or kitchen.
"Where are you?" he called.
"Bathroom!" Katara answered. "I'll be out in a minute. Make yourself comfortable." Zuko sat on a cushion and waited for the djinn. She came out a few minutes later in a cloud of steam. She was in comfortable looking loose pants and a tee shirt, her hair falling loose and damp down her back.
"So, what brings you down?" she asked, sitting on the cushion next to Zuko.
"You should really keep the door locked," he said. Katara just waved him off.
"You should really not worry so much," she replied. "I figured it was you." Zuko's frowned deepened.
"You didn't know it was me?"
"I'm a djinn, Zuko," Katara huffed, "I'm not all knowing. But who else could it be?"
"It could have been some psycho murderer," Zuko retorted. "Or my sister." Katara smiled, feeling very amused at Zuko's grumpy chastisement.
"I trust the security in this building a bit more than you do, apparently. Besides, I can take care of myself." Then, to Zuko's immense surprise, Katara waved her hand in front of her and the water was drawn from her hair into a globe above her palm. With a swift motion of her hands, the water split into five sharp icicles and went flying across the room, melting back into harmless water before it hit the wall.
"Wow…" Zuko murmured, impressed. "Can all djinn do that?" Katara shook her head.
"No, I learned that when I was a little girl," she explained. "I'm a waterbender."
"But…that's just a myth!" Zuko exclaimed. "Isn't it?"
"Sure, it's a myth," Katara said, laughingly. "Just like djinns." Zuko shook his head disbelievingly.
"Benders…they don't exist."
"That was the work of another djinn," Katara told him. "It was after I was turned. I wasn't around when it happened, so I don't know the whole story, but from what I understand, a non-bender wished for the ability to be gone. And then it was just…gone."
"But why?" Zuko asked. Katara shrugged.
"I don't really know. It was rare to be a bender in my day, and in my village, it was revered. But times change, I guess. You'd have to ask the guy who made the wish, or his djinn." Katara pulled the water from the floor and absently bent it over to the sink. "You didn't come here to talk about my awesome powers. What brings you?"
Zuko suddenly remembered why he was in Katara's apartment in the first place and he flushed slightly.
"I just needed to get out of my apartment for a while," he said. Katara wrinkled her nose in confusion.
"Already?" she asked. "We just got back half an hour ago."
"I had a talk a talk with my father…"
"Ah! I get it now," Katara cut in with a knowing nod. "He chewed you out some more." Zuko shook his head.
"Not exactly…" he started hesitantly. "He almost…complimented me." A strange look came across Katara's face.
"That's…good," she said. Zuko studied the djinn carefully.
"This is my wish coming true, isn't it?" he asked her. Katara met his eyes levelly.
"Ozai is your father, isn't he?" The question struck Zuko as odd. He nodded slowly and Katara smiled brightly. "That settles that then."
She hopped up off of her cushion and went to the kitchen and started preparing tea. Zuko found himself frowning once more as he watched her over the low wall that separated the living room and kitchen. Her reply didn't feel like a straight answer, but he wasn't sure why.
"Do you want tea, too?" Katara asked, glancing over her shoulder. "I don't really have anything else…"
"No," Zuko said quickly. "I should get back. I have some homework to finish." Katara snorted and rolled her eyes as she set the tea leaves to steep in the water.
"Bookworm," she muttered. Zuko paused at her door and looked back at her. Katara was leaning across the low wall and looking at him strangely.
"What?" Zuko asked. Katara shook her head slowly.
"I was just wondering," she said. "Why you think are you so desperate for Ozai's approval." Zuko stared at her, stunned. He was searching for a response when Katara's tea pot let out a low whistle. She jumped off the wall and disappeared in the kitchen. Zuko heard her fussing around with her tea cups and assumed the conversation was over. That was fine with him, because he didn't know how to answer her question. Of course he wanted Ozai's approval. He was his father.
-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-
Gyatso was furious. The Mechanist's letter of resignation lay open on his desk before him. It said he was leaving to spend some time with his sick son.
"What a pile," Gyatso muttered angrily. He knew Teo. The boy was paraplegic, but that was the extent of his infirmities. He was on his way to being as intelligent his father and was as well-adjusted as any child. He didn't need extra attention. Gyatso knew what was going on, he was certain. Although it pained him to think that his friend could be so mercenary.
Gyatso sighed and sorted through the rest of the papers in the folder that the Mechanist sent to him. The plans for the car were included, but it was a hallow victory. It would take time to find an engineer who would be able to helm the project a halfway as competently as the Mechanist. Finding anyone who could actually do what the Mechanist did was an impossibility that Gyatso didn't want to think about for too long. He ran a hand across his face agitatedly and stared at the phone on his desk. The Mechanist hadn't answered any of the times Gyatso had called, and there was no reason to believe he would answer this time. Gyatso stopped with his hand over the dial pad. Perhaps, he thought, it was time for a new approach. He reached into his desk and pulled out a small, simple jar with a lid carved into the likeness of a sky bison.
"Aang, are you there?" Gyatso called. A silvery mist poured out of the jar and solidified into a young boy of about sixteen or seventeen. The boy smiled and bowed slightly.
"How can I help you, Gyatso?"
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