A/N: Sorry this took so long. I had terrible case of writer's block. I was almost hospitalized. I swear. Anyway, someone asked a question last chapter about when this is happening. It's an alternate universe. Basically, Fire Nation took over everything, and the rebels, mostly Water Tribe, are fighting back. Yay! I hope you like this chapter. Byez XD
"SOKKA!" someone shouted. Reluctantly, Sokka rolled off of Zuko, calmly fixing his hair and straightening his shirt.
"What is it 'Tara?" he hollered back.
"Oh," Katara walked in, "You're already here. Aang says that you're to guard the prisoner at all times."
"Figured he would," a secret smile crept to his face.
"Yeah," she muttered, her eyes dragging slowly over them. They lingered for a moment too long, before she shook herself, "I'll see you later then."
"Right," he answered noncommittally. With one last glance at the two of them, she left.
Sokka sat back down. Zuko, having watched the exchange with interest, asked, "Is she your sister then?"
"Yeah, younger sister," he answered, leaning up against the taller boy.
"She's," he searched for the right word, "Fierce."
Sokka laughed, "'Tara considers it her duty to protect the family. She can hold a grudge, but if you're on her good side, she's nice I guess."
"She told me that firebenders killed your mother," he prompted.
"I was nine, and she was eight. They were looking for the last waterbender of our tribe. My mother lied, said it was her, to protect Katara," he said shortly, avoiding his lover's eyes.
"My mom's name was Ursa," startled, Sokka turned to him, "When I was ten, my father tried to convince my grandfather to name him heir instead of my uncle. As punishment, he was ordered to kill me. My mother killed Ozai so that I would live, and then she was banished. She and my uncle, they were the only two who ever loved me, until you came along."
Neither boy said anything. They looked into each other's eyes, understanding without words. Their foreheads rested against the other, breathing together, drowning in the feeling of togetherness.
-o-
Sokka dipped his hand into a small pot of black paint, putting the final touches on his war paint. His stomach plummeted as he looked into the mirror he held. His hand trembled over a cup of water. Without thinking, he cradled his wrist, rubbing his thumb over the faint scar. As he stared at his cropped hair, he wondered if he should give up his traditional war paint as well as his wolfs-tail. After all, he was no longer a warrior of the tribe. There was the familiar dull ache in his chest, the ache that only faded when he was by Zuko's side.
Someone hollered his name, and the inner debate ended. He reached for his boomerang, tucking it into its sling. Then he hefted the comforting weight of his sword and exited his tent. Night hung heavy over the camp, the silence of the planned ambush weighing heavily on the rebels hearts. However, instead of joining the rest of his tribe, he walked to the ragtag group around the Avatar.
Toph was grinning in anticipation. Katara was serious, water swirling around her as she directed it to the pouches at her side. Aang bounced up and down nervously, a smile flickering on and off. A few other earthbenders hovered around, none that he recognized.
Katara looked up and caught sight of him. She wandered to his side, "Are you still fighting with Dad then?"
He grunted, "As long as Hahn is fighting with them, I've fighting here."
The sound of a horn startled the youth. They all tensed in anticipation. Aang breathed in deeply, then, "Let's move out."
No one knew how long they walked. Everyone's energies were fixated on the plume of smoke that rose in the distance. Sokka, along with ten others, pulled ahead of the rest. Fire Nation guards hit the ground with a soft grunt. None lived long enough to send out an alarm.
They formed a loose ring around the Fire Nation camp. A nod passed along the line. Rebels braced themselves. A rumble, beginning low and building strength, shook the camp. Some soldiers made it out of their tents before an avalanche of rocks fell on their tents. Others had no such luck.
Panic spread through the ranks of Fire-benders. Ice arrows took down those without armor. Out of the panic, a call rang out, and they began to organize. Another horn blast, and the rebels charged in.
Sokka did his utmost to block out the sounds of screams, listening for commands. He concentrated on the way his blade flashed in the moonlight, instead of the scarlet blood that coated the blade, and his armor.
Fire lit up the night. Ice and water flashed, lethal as metal. The earth rumbled. In the distance, a peaceful boy with glowing eyes brought hell down from the heavens. Sweat dripped down his face, wiping away the war paint he had agonized over.
Without warning, Sokka found his face in the dirt, brown mixing in with the greys and whites. Instinct forced him to roll over and face his attacker. Amber eyes glared down at him, hate contorting the man's face into a grotesque mask. He fumbled in the mud for his sword, but a boot came down on his arm.
Another hand groped behind his back as words tumbled from his lips, "Hey, come on. That ain't a fair way to fight."
"What would scum like you know about a fair fight?" spit landed on his face, "Is it fair to kill us in our sleep?"
Sokka's fingers found the comfortable grooved wood, and his hand latched on. He wrenched his arm free, hurling his boomerang with the other. He scrambled to stand, his knees hitting the ground, hand grasping his sword desperately before he managed to regain his footing.
Metal bit into his side. His own sword swung out, hitting flesh with a dull thunk. He kept one hand pressed into his wound as he stumbled away.
A horn sounded again. Red helmeted heads swiveled around. Flames faded as the Fire Nation beat an ungainly, disorderly retreat.
Tiredness filled every inch of Sokka's body, and he sunk to the ground. He caught a glimpse of eyes, a shade to match his own, before he faded gratefully into unconsciousness.
