Media: Fic
Title: Solar Winds (Avatar: The Last Airbender Fusion, 52/?)
Rating: PG-13 for innuendo, swearing, violence.
Spoilers: None for either series that I am aware of.
Warnings: None.
Word Count: 8800
Summary: When a usurper sets eyes on the Fire Nation throne, Avatar Kurt and friends find themselves on the run with the deposed Prince Blaine in a country gone mad. Can they escape Lady Sylvester's wrath? Or will her minions snuff them out for good? Fusion fic!
Author's Note: This chapter was extremely fun to write, which is a little disturbing considering how creepy it is. o_o;; The gang discover an old house in the middle of the wilderness, and find far more than they bargained for when they deign to explore it. Don't forget—only two chapters until the Big Surprise!
CHAPTER 52 – A House Is Not a Home
18 days after the riots…
The sun rises on a partly cloudy sky the next morning, and the day quickly finds everyone rolling on the river.
Or, you know, up it. Whatever.
After everybody is up and reasonably fed, Kurt freezes a nice-sized chunk of ice from the pondwater, steps onboard with Finn, and invites the others to join them. It takes them a couple minutes to really get going—mostly because a sleep-deprived Finn has a tendency to forget which way to swing his arms to propel them forward. There's quite a log of zig-zagging and spinning in place before they finally find a groove and get to boogieing.
All told, ice rafting with waterbenders is a pretty decent way to get around. There's really only one major downside.
After a few minutes, Kurt pulls them to the riverbank. "And… break!"
Everyone leaps off. It takes less than a second for Blaine to find the nearest flammable thing and set it alight, and shortly thereafter, several pairs of very cold feet (and one nigh-frozen butt) are steadily being thawed back into feeling again.
"Shoes," Rachel says. "Item number one on our list of things to buy—"
"Steal," Artie corrects.
"—buy," Rachel insists, "when we next get to civilization. Good, sturdy shoes to protect our feet from the elements. All of them."
There is a murmur of agreement among the many frostbitten toes in attendance. They're far from barefooted, but the fancy dress shoes of the various costumes they absconded in don't exactly provide much insulation.
After a short break to warm everyone up again, they're headed back upstream. A few hours of the freeze-thaw cycle sees them making pretty good time on their way up the river. It's about mid-morning when they spot it.
"Is that a house?" Blaine says, eyes to the starboard.
"STOP THE RAFT," Rachel orders.
Finn obeys instinctively. Kurt does not. The result is a minor skid-out that, to their credit, only throws off two people.
"Sorry, Artie," Finn says sheepishly. "Sorry, Blaine."
"We cool, we cool," Artie sighs, hanging upside down in some bamboo shoots.
"Don't worry about it!" Blaine says cheerfully, picking himself up out of the mud.
Kurt is just getting ready to tell Rachel off for back-ice driving, but she is already far out of hearing range, running towards the aforementioned house with the fervor of a madwoman.
"Whoa!" Mercedes says. "Hold up. We don't even know who lives in that house!"
"Who cares?" Rachel shouts back. "It's a house. People! Civilization! Salvation!"
"Hard to argue with that logic," Blaine shrugs.
Finn and Kurt melt the ice raft as Mercedes puts Artie on the ground again, and the rest of them steadily approach the two-story abode.
They find Rachel stopped just outside what appears to have once been the 'yard' or whatever passed for it. Her heartbroken face tells them a lot. The actual sight of the house tells them even more.
The 'yard' as it stands now, is overgrown almost beyond recognition. Weeds and vines of varying levels of thorniness choke out whatever grass might have once been there, and heaven only knows what kind of creatures live in the underbrush. The house itself isn't faring much better—vines creep up basically every wall, reaching into the broken windows like they're reaching for a lost loved one within. The front doors hang haphazardly off the hinges, broken and weighted down with years of grime. The deep reds and rich golds that make up most Fire Nation homes are long faded to dingy browns and urine-stain yellows. Mold hangs thick on many surfaces, a sure reminder of nature's unwavering commitment to reclaim any and everything that human hands neglect.
"Well," Artie says, sliding forward. "I think it's safe to say that nobody lives here."
"Are there any other houses around?" Kurt asks, glancing at the wilderness.
"I don't see any," Finn says.
"I don't even see a pathway that leads to this place," Mercedes says.
"It looks like it's been abandoned for years," Blaine chimes in. "Maybe long enough for an untraveled road to disappear."
"This is a joke," Rachel says flatly. "An unbelievably cruel joke. The universe hates me."
"Welcome to the club," says everyone, in a moment of slightly disturbing unrehearsed synchronicity.
The six sets of eyes stare in trepidation at the old house for a few more moments.
"Well, we don't have all day," Kurt says. "Are we going in, or not?"
"I don't see what it would hurt," Blaine says. "At the very least, there might be some old clothes in there. I need a shirt."
"If you say so," Kurt sighs.
"What if it's dangerous?" Rachel asks bleakly. "There could be wild animals in there! Or it could be unstable! Or there could be a dead body! Or an evil spirit! Or… or…"
"Or shoes," Finn says helpfully.
This seems to perk her up. "…well, nothing worth having comes without its risks, I suppose," she says warily.
Artie put his hands on the ground and closes his eyes. "Whoa!" he says. "Okay, item number one—y'all better step back. There's barbed wire on the ground here."
"On the ground?" Finn asks.
"Probably from a fence that fell over a while ago," Blaine says.
"Item number two—the old place is mostly stable, far as I can tell. Not too clear on the insides—there's a lot of clutter that hinders my vibro-vision." He opens his eyes. "As for evil spirits… that's more Kurt's domain."
"How you feeling, bro?" Finn asks.
"Strange," Kurt says, peering at the house. "It isn't a threatening or evil feeling, just a heavy one. Like… spiritual stagnation. There's nothing… moving here, and it's odd. Not pleasant, but not particularly dangerous, either."
"Alright then," Blaine says. "I say we go in. Who's with me?"
Four sets of hands rise at varying speeds. Kurt is the first, Rachel is the last. Only one abstains.
"Artie?" Finn asks.
"I'll hang back here for now," the earthbender says with a shrug. "Just to make it easier on you guys."
"Okay, dude," Finn says. "Yell if you need us."
Artie nods, and bends aside the barbed wire to make way for everyone to go through without cutting their feet.
Blaine takes point, burning a path through the growth, going slow enough so that any unfortunate creatures in the way have plenty of warning to move before they get toasted. The great thing about fire is that animals are almost universally afraid of it, so clearing out critters is no trouble for him.
After that, they go step by creaking step up to the front door. The sun is fairly high in the sky, but the abundance of trees surrounding the place would make it seem dark no matter what time of day, so Blaine holds a small flame steady over his hand as he steps inside.
After accidentally lighting up a spider-web that nearly scares him off the porch, the Prince leads the way through the opened front doors, into a small living area, full of dusty, decaying furniture, and shockingly intact—
"Animals," Rachel says, her voice thick with dread. "Oh, heavens. There are dead animals everywhere…"
A moose-lion head mounted above the fireplace with massive antlers stretching almost from wall-to-wall; a snarling platypus bear on a pedestal; a komodo dingo acting as the legs to a side table… Everywhere they look, they find shudder-inducing examples of taxidermy done right (or wrong, depending on your point of view).
"A hunting lodge," Mercedes says quietly. "Well, at least now we know why it's so far out in the woods…"
"I'm going to be sick," Rachel says. "This is horrible."
"Hey, come on," Finn says, pulling her into a gentle hug. "Let's go outside. You don't have to be in here."
The airbender lets herself be pulled into Finn's arms as he quietly ushers her from the room. He gives a questioning look to Kurt, but Kurt nods him onwards.
"Wow," Mercedes says. "This really bothers her."
"I'm not exactly okay with it myself," Kurt says. "Look at this!" He kneels down to pick up what appears to be a pipe, made from the body of a salamander. "It's ridiculous. The Water Tribes depend on animals for survival, but we're always careful to kill only what is necessary and to use every part of the animal, out of respect for the life we're taking. There's no respect here. This is just killing for the sake of killing."
Blaine swallows thickly, a strange, unidentifiable feeling creeping up within his stomach. "I don't think I'd want to wear anything we find here."
"We're already this far," Kurt says. "We might as well keep going. Besides… even if we do find some animal skin clothes, at this point I think it would be more respectful to use them than to just leave them as a trophy."
It's just as bad as they get deeper into the house. Fur rugs carpet the hallways, disgusting with years of mold and mildew on them. Bits and pieces of small animals can be identified here and there—probably from confused predators who wandered into the house and thought they'd found a meal, only to bite in and find stuffing where the meat should go.
When they find the staircase, the house goes from moderately creepy to seriously skeevy.
"Those are bones!" Mercedes says, pointing to the railing. The balusters that hold up the handrail are clearly large animal bones. At the bottom, the handrail ends in some kind of unidentifiable sharp-toothed skull.
"This is seriously messed up," Blaine says. "I'm not sure I want to know what horrors are waiting for us up there."
"If you want to go outside," Kurt says. "I won't hold it against you. Honestly, at this point, the only thing keeping me going is morbid curiosity."
"Well, now that you mention it," Blaine says, looking a little uneasy. "…damn it. Now I do want to know."
Kurt lets out a soft laugh, but it echoes oddly in the still, empty air of the house, so he quickly stifles it. "Let's go. Step carefully," he says.
Blaine again takes point. He makes it about three steps before one of them cracks under his feet. Only lightning-fast reflexes keep him from outright falling.
"That's it," Mercedes says. "I'm out. I'll keep looking around down here, but I ain't going up there. Those steps cannot handle this much woman."
"Very well. Be sure to listen for any screams of horror," Kurt says. "Especially ones that come to a very sudden stop."
"You are not helping," Blaine says flatly, continuing to step very lightly up the old staircase.
The upstairs area is even more dilapidated than the downstairs. There are holes in the ceiling, some leading to an attic of sorts, others leading directly to the open air, letting in little beams of sunlight that somehow make everything else seem even more gloomy by contrast. Papers are everywhere. Some are hanging on the walls- most are on the floor. All are very much faded and decayed—whatever might have been on them is lost to time.
"Wait," Kurt says, holding Blaine back. He gathers a bit of air between his hands and thrusts it down the hallway. The amount of dust and cobwebs he gets rid of is actually a little frightening.
"Wow," Blaine says. "Burning that much cobweb? I might've set the house on fire."
"I like that idea. Let's save it for later," Kurt says, pressing onwards.
As they continue to explore the upper level, strange things begin to jump out at them (figuratively, not literally).
"You know, I haven't seen a single animal-thing up here," Kurt says. "Besides the bones on the staircases."
"You're right," Blaine says. "This whole part seems like it belongs in a completely different house."
The more they explore, the more the strangeness of the contrast sticks out to them. Here in the upper rooms, things seem almost… innocent. Where below they had stuffed animals of the most unsettling kind, up above, they find only the cute variety—faded and falling apart, of course, but still oddly endearing. A wooden, rocking ostrich horse peers at them from a pile of toys—a top, a music box, a doll with one eye missing.
"They had children," Kurt says, appalled. "Whoever was responsible for that… butchering down below actually had kids."
"I feel bad for anyone who had to grow up in this place," Blaine says quietly.
The childlike nature of the majority of the floor soothes their spirits a little. As they move around, they find themselves growing calmer with every step. Their jitters lessen, and they even find their minds wandering slightly, trying to imagine people playing in this strange place.
It only serves to make what they find next even more jarring.
Blaine opens the door to the master bedroom, and is immediately greeted by the sight of a massive set of teeth, large enough to swallow him and Kurt whole in a single bite.
"WHOA!" he shouts, accidentally snuffing his own flame and stumbling backwards.
"AHHH!" Kurt shouts with him, upon seeing the enormous, grinning… thing that awaits them beyond the door.
It takes them a couple of seconds to realize the grinning thing isn't moving.
"What is that?" Kurt asks, helping Blaine up.
Blaine gulps. "Only one way to find out…" Together, they slowly, carefully tread towards it, still half-afraid it will spring to life like a snake and snap them up.
When he lights his flame up again, he honestly can't believe his eyes. The chill of complete horror that spirals through his spine is almost enough to knock him out on the spot. There is a king-sized bed, complete with gopherbear fur sheets, inside of—
"A dragon's skull," Blaine whispers. "Agni's mercy… that's an actual dragon skull."
Kurt clutches his hand over his mouth. "Oh La. That's…"
"Unbelievable," Blaine says quietly. "To attack and kill one of the original firebenders, and claim it as a trophy… whoever lived here was incredibly powerful."
"And dangerously insane," Kurt nods. "I hope I never, ever have to meet anyone who would do this."
And suddenly, it all makes sense. The unidentifiable feeling in Blaine's stomach twists itself into a familiar shape, and his dread multiplies tenfold. "Oh, Gods…" he says, suddenly sounding sick. "I think… I think I know where we are."
He stumbles through the room on unsteady legs, his flame wavering in a way that makes Kurt's heart clench. Coming to a dresser, he scans across the top, looking for something. When he doesn't find it, he actually gets down on his hands and knees and starts sweeping his eyes across the floor.
"Blaine, what are you doing?" Kurt asks.
Blaine ignores him, as he seems to have found what he has been looking for. A long, rolled-up scroll of unusual, high-quality paper rests against the far wall of the bedroom. With shaking hands, Blaine picks it up, and unrolls it.
And Kurt's heart stops.
The House of SYLVESTER, is emblazoned across the top. Below, in ink that is faded, but still largely visible, are four figures in a family portrait. A tall, severe man, Alfonse, a feisty-looking woman, Doris, , a young girl with something slightly strange about her, Jean…
…and tiny, smiling Sue.
"Her house," Blaine whispers as he seems to close in on himself. His shaking hands drop the scroll.
"We're in her house."
When Finn gets outside, he sees Artie nodding off with his back against a tree. He moves over as quietly as he can with Rachel clinging to him, and sits next to his buddy, trying not to disturb him.
It doesn't work. As soon as Finn gets near him, Artie snaps to attention and pastes a smile on his face. "What's wrong?" he says. "You scared of that little old place?"
"Dude, it is messed up in there," Finn says seriously.
"…for real?" Artie asks.
Finn nods. "Everything is made of dead animals."
The earthbender's eyes widen. "You mean… like a fur coat, or…"
"Like a footstool that used to be a dog. And actually still looks like one," Finn says. Rachel whimpers and clings to him even more tightly.
"…damn," Artie says. "That's just… wrong." He looks at Rachel. "Is she gonna be okay?"
"She," Rachel says into Finn's chest, "is right here and perfectly capable of speaking for herself, thank you."
Artie rolls his eyes. "Fine. Are you gonna be okay?" he asks, annoyed. He softens up a bit when he adds, "Seriously, you're ghost white right now. You might want to lie down."
"I'll be okay. I just… I never want to go back in there again," Rachel says with a shudder.
"You don't have to," Finn says, holding her close. "Don't worry."
"Hey, everybody," Mercedes says, sticking her head out of the doorway. "I know this is the last thing you probably want to hear right now, but we might be staying here for a little while."
Rachel curls into a ball that would make any hedgehog jealous.
"You can't be serious!" Finn says.
"'fraid so," Mercedes says. "Look at that sky."
In the distance, a heavy, threatening set of dark grey clouds hangs like a mural over the horizon.
"Those are coming right this way," Mercedes continues. "Shelter is hard to find out here, and the kind we make might not hold up under a storm that looks like that."
"I can't go back into that… that house of death," Rachel says. "It's too awful. I can practically hear the whines and whimpers of all those poor, miserable creatures, trapped and tormented in the form of furniture."
Artie rolls his eyes and comes this close to accusing her of melodrama when he catches a glimpse of her face. It's not acting. Those tears are real.
"Wow," he says quietly. "You're not faking. This really creeps you out, doesn't it?"
"Of course it does!" Rachel snaps at him. "How could you possibly accuse me of faking at a time like this?"
Artie raises his hands in surrender. "Sorry. I didn't mean to—"
"Well, you did!" Rachel says testily. "You are just… you are an awful person!" she sniffs, turning back to Finn's chest.
Her face is buried in her not-boyfriend, so she doesn't see the small flash of heartbreak that takes over Artie's face for just the briefest of moments.
"I'm sorry, Rachel," Artie says quietly. "Seriously."
She sniffs and turns out to face him. "Well, you should be," she says haughtily, an effect somewhat ruined by her splotchy face and thick voice. "And apology accepted, I guess," she adds.
Mercedes trots out to join them. "Is it really that bad?" she asks Rachel.
The girl nods.
The four of them stop to think for a moment.
"What if we…" Finn starts. "Like, purify the place or something?"
"What, you mean like with fire?" Artie asks. "I'm thinking that might be the only thing that'll do the job at this point."
"Actually," Mercedes says, "that might not be such a bad idea. We clear out all that nasty junk and burn it."
"Like… a funeral pyre," Finn says, with a small smile. "For all the animals that died."
At this, Rachel sticks his head out. "…that… sounds lovely, actually," she says. "We can put their little animal spirits to rest. Everyone knows a proper funeral is crucial to spiritual wellness."
"Then that's what we'll do," Finn says. He looks up at Mercedes. "Will you… help me get the stuff out?"
Mercedes regards him coolly for a few moments. "Yeah, I'll help you out. Let's get on it."
"Shhhhhh," Kurt says, holding Blaine as tightly as he can without hurting him. The heartbeat that was so sweet and grounding to him last night is now wild and frantic, with breathing shallow and panicked to match. "It's okay," Kurt whispers. "It's okay. Breathe, Blaine. I've got you."
Blaine clings to Kurt like a piece of driftwood in the aftermath of a shipwreck. There are more feelings cascading through him than he knows how to name, but chief among them are horror and leaverunescapegetoutNOW.
"Out," Blaine says.
"What?" Kurt balks. "You want me to leave?"
"No!" Blaine cries, clutching him even tighter. "Both of us. Out. Leave. Right now. I can't be here. I can't be here."
"Okay, okay!" Kurt says, trying desperately to keep Blaine calm. "We'll go. We'll go. I promise."
Steadying him with one arm, Kurt guides the shaky boy as best he can out the bedroom, down the hall, down the stairs. He passes Mercedes and Finn on the way.
"Dude," Finn says, carrying the mounted platypus bear out on his shoulder.
Kurt just shakes his head towards the pale, exceedingly upset Prince on his shoulder.
As soon as Blaine sees the door, he breaks free of Kurt and runs for it himself, not stopping until he is completely clear of the house.
"Blaine!" Rachel says, seeing the Prince in a state just as bad as her own, if not worse. "What happened? What is it?"
"It's her," he says, trying desperately to catch his breath. "This house belongs to her."
"Her who?" Mercedes asks as she runs out behind him.
"Sue Sylvester," Blaine seethes, seeming to shudder under the weight of the word. "The new Fire Lord."
Kurt can only watch as four faces adopt an expression identical to his own not more than a few minutes ago. Blaine falls on his knees, and Kurt rushes over to catch him.
"Shhhhhhh," he says as softly as he can, wrapping arms around him. "It's okay, Blaine. She hasn't been here in years, maybe even decades. She can't hurt you. We won't let her. I won't let her."
Blaine just shakes his head. "It's not… I'm not worried about that, I just… I'm sorry," he says. "I freaked out."
"You had every right to freak out, dude," Artie says. "I mean, I've only got secondhand accounts to go on, and that place freaks me out. You have a personal connection with this madness."
"Sue Sylvester did this?" Rachel says in quiet horror, gesturing to the growing pile of animal-things that they are making on the lawn.
"Either her, or someone related to her. Apparently, this is a family house," Kurt says. His fingers gently press on Blaine's ribs, feeling his heartbeat slowly but surely evening out.
"Being in that place," he whispers. "…it was like I was in her head. Like I could see the world as she does… Life means nothing. Everything is just something to be conquered and destroyed and displayed. The world exists to glorify her." He shakes his head. "It was awful. I never want to feel like that again."
A peal of thunder ripples through the forest, causing Blaine to jump and kicking his heart right back into high gear again.
"Oh, great," Kurt says, eying the approaching storm with no small amount of disdain. "Blaine, I hate to say this, but I think we might have to take shelter in that house."
The sad, frightened eyes that greet him are like being hit with an entire glacier, all at once. He would do anything to make sure Blaine never looks like that again.
"Hey, dude," Finn says quietly, putting a hand on Blaine's shoulder. "We're actually cleaning this place out. We're gonna take all the dead stuff and burn it."
"A funeral pyre," Rachel says. "To free the spirits of the animals, and purify the house."
Blaine takes a deep, deep breath, and nods. "That sounds good…" He breathes out. "And I want to help."
"Are you sure?" Kurt asks.
He doesn't look sure, but he nods, nonetheless. "It's just a house," he says quietly, like he's trying to convince himself. "It can't hurt me."
With Kurt's help, Blaine stands up and walks over to the others. Together, he, Finn, Mercedes, and Kurt slowly but surely pull everything that was identifiably once-alive from the house, and toss it into an ever-growing pile on the lawn. Towards the end, they just start tossing things out the windows for Artie to catch and ferry to the pile himself. Eventually, even Rachel gets in on the act, maintaining the shape of the pile and making sure nothing is missing or falling out.
The dragon skull is the last thing they move, and they wind up having to dismantle it and throw it down piece-by-piece—it simply isn't safe to move something that massive through the rickety house.
By the time they are finished, the place is almost completely empty save for the toys. In their search to make sure they get everything, Kurt even manages to find some relatively intact, non-fur clothing for them to wear. Blaine is a bit hesitant at first, but Kurt assures him 'they're just clothes.' The robes are a little large on him, but it's better than nothing. Kurt can feel a chill in the wind of the oncoming storm. Blaine will need the warmth.
Rachel presides over the funeral. "Oh, unfortunate creatures," she says quietly. "Ranging from the small and pinchably cute, to the large and utterly terrifying… we mourn your senseless, pointless deaths. There is nothing we can do to reverse the awful things that were done to you—all we can offer you is this funeral, this last bit of closure. May the flames set you free."
The two firebenders in attendance punctuate her statement with a helping of the best flames they can muster. They step in from both sides, blasting the larger objects at the base and feeding the flames with bending so that they spread higher, faster. Once the fire is burning well enough (and it burns very well, especially since Kurt thought to bend any lingering moisture out of the various skins beforehand), Blaine and Kurt step back and watch as the fire consumes everything.
Another crack of thunder echoes from the oncoming storm, and the wind picks up just slightly. Strangely enough, this does absolutely nothing for the sense of peace that this moment brings. The six of them stand together in a clump and stare into the fire, their minds wandering hither and yon, but never too far. At varying points, each of them turns to watch Blaine. For the time being, however, Blaine only has eyes for the fire.
After a few minutes of burning, Kurt feels it—the heaviness, the stagnation in the air lifts like a bridal veil, as if nature itself sighs with relief. The shadows become shallower, the darkness less consuming, less foreboding. What was once an imposing, ominous manor suddenly just seems like an old, empty house.
The thunder rolls yet again, and this time, a visible arc of lightning splits the sky. The clouds have consumed the heavens, and the storm itself isn't too far off.
"We should go inside," Kurt says.
A murmur of agreement bubbles up from the mourners. Artie is so tired that he doesn't even comment as Finn lifts him off the ground and carries him indoors. Rachel shows only the slightest hesitation before taking a deep breath and marching across the threshold. Mercedes earthbends a dead tree into some soggy-looking firewood and brings it in with her. Soon, only Kurt and Blaine are standing by the fire.
"Are you okay?" Kurt asks quietly.
Blaine nods silently without looking back. "Just… saying goodbye."
And that's when it hits him. Blaine has cried and fought and wept over everything he's lost, but he never had the chance for a funeral—for closure of any kind. The pyre in front of him represents far more than just animals. It represents everyone who lost their lives to Sue's meaningless conquest. It's his chance to claim closure for himself, and Kurt is proud to see him taking it.
As the first raindrops begin to fall, Blaine finally turns around and gives Kurt a faint, but sincere smile. Before Kurt knows it, Blaine has walked up to him and wrapped him in a fierce hug. "Thank you," he says.
"For what?" Kurt asks.
"For just… being here," he says. "This whole time."
"There's nowhere else I'd rather be," Kurt says honestly.
And just as the storm begins in earnest, the two of them find shelter together.
"Oh yeah," Santana says, looking at land around the big blue pond. "They were definitely here. There's signs of waterbending everywhere, and weirdly enough, a bunch of random-ass burn marks."
"Hey!" one of the 57th Mounted calls out. "Over here!"
She rides over to find a little mound, hastily pulled over the remains of a campfire. It takes them about a minute to dig it up.
"Okay, firebender," she says to one of the armored soldiers. "Tell me—how long ago was this burning?"
A taller soldier leans down over the scorched, ashen logs. "Not long. A few hours, maybe."
"We are so closing in on these bozos," she grins.
"Except the trail ends here," Puck grumbles, still annoyed and cranky.
"No, actually, it doesn't," Quinn says, massaging her forehead. "They found water. They have at least two waterbenders with them, and the Avatar is water native. If we follow the water, we'll find them."
CRACK!
A thunderclap ripples through the world around them.
"Madam, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but I do believe the water is about to come to us," the leader says.
Overhead, the storm thunders its agreement to that assessment.
"Of course," Quinn sighs. "A thunderstorm. Lovely. What's next? Maybe a meteor shower?" She turns to her soldiers and Chi-Ryus, and issues an order. "Alright, people, set up shelter. As close to the cliff as you can, but not too close to the water. This one looks like it might be rough."
"Huh," Santana says, looking at her sideways. "You're actually deciding to stop on your own? Without being badgered by everyone?"
"Shut up," Quinn grumbles listlessly. "I'm tired, and I have a headache. There's no point in going on until this rain passes—fighting a waterbending Avatar during a rainstorm is second only to throwing yourself into an active volcano in terms of being an efficient suicide."
Puck hops off his mount, looking around to see if any of the soldiers are listening. Fortunately, they're all busy setting up the tents. Or arguing about the best place to set up the tents. "Hey," Puck says softly. "Seriously, are you okay? You are way moody right now—"
Quinn glares at him.
"Dangerous ground, Puckerman," Santana warns.
"No, I'm serious," Puck says, looking at Quinn. "I'm not saying you're moody because you're a chick, or whatever. Normally, you're not moody at all. You're a stone-cold badass, which I think is kind of awesome. But now you're all mopey and shit one minute, and super-pissed the next. What's up?"
Quinn looks up at him with half a death glare. "Nothing is 'up.' This just happens to be the most patience-taxing thing I've ever done, that's all. My patience is constantly being tried. It's being tried even as we speak."
"See?" Puck says. "That's what I mean! Normally, you'd say shit like that and it'd be like getting knifed. But that was weak. That was just… like, getting poked with a chopstick. A cheap one."
"Whatever, Puck," Quinn says. The thunder bellows, and Quinn feels a few specks of moisture splattered against her skin. "Go to your tent. We'll wait out the storm and continue when it lets up."
Puck looks over to the 57th Mounted and their tent-making progress. The fat one is still arguing with the skinny one over where to put the damn tent. And of course, the Chi-Ryus have already finished. "Why'd we get stuck with the dipshit patrol?" he grumbles.
"I ask myself that question every morning," Santana snarks.
Meanwhile, Quinn marches into the tent her Chi-Ryus set up. The girls are already inside waiting for her. She sits down cross-legged, and the others follow suit. This time is to be spent meditating and focusing their energies towards their eventual goal. Like a thrusting sword, all of their force needs to be concentrated on a single point of attack to effectively break their enemies. Spreading out her forces only makes them easier to deal with. The Chi-Ryus are effective because of their coordination and flawless unity, so she needs to take advantage of that.
Her new battle plan is one she hopes will be a bit more effective. Using information gathered from her girls and the assassins, she's spotted a huge tactical bull's-eye that she somehow completely overlooked.
The tall waterbender is one of the weakest fighters in the entire group, and at the same time, one of their most valuable members. He seems to be the only one capable of healing. If she crushes him first, the others will become much easier to crush by default.
Of course, she can't completely crush him, lest she risk setting off the ten-tons of human TNT that rests within the Avatar. It's a fine line to walk, and part of her relishes the challenge of dealing with and circumventing such a powerful foe. She'll have to disable the healer—find a way to destroy his ability to fight and bend without instantly killing him.
But the most vital element to any battle plan she makes is her Chi-Ryus. "Danielle," she says, calling to the brunette Chi-Ryu.
"Yes, Captain?" Danielle replies.
"How is your leg?" Quinn asks.
"Much better, Captain," Danielle says with certainty. "I should have no problems performing on the battlefield."
"Good," Quinn says. "Be sure to save your energy for just that. Put no more stress on the injured limb than necessary until the time comes. Refusing to give an injury time to heal proves nothing but your own foolishness. That goes for you, too, Clarice. Be careful with that elbow."
The strawberry blonde Chi-Ryu nods. "Yes, Captain!"
"Victory is close at hand, girls," Quinn says, already starting to feel better. "I can taste it in the air."
A distant, hawk-like cry sends her stomach plummeting again. Victory had better be close at hand. Or she will have a very difficult Master to answer to when the time comes…
In the newly-emptied living room of the Old Sylvester House, everyone is gathered around the fireplace. As usual, teamwork and training are the orders of the day—Kurt instructs Finn on how to bend the water out of the soggy wood, and Blaine instructs Kurt on how best to light it. Mercedes and Rachel sort through a box of old clothes for things that might fit them. Artie sits on a table near the window, apparently preparing to do a magic trick.
"Hey, Blaine," Artie says. "Remember when you punched me in the face?"
"Yeah," Blaine nods. "Good times."
"You know it," Artie grins. "Remember how you cracked my glasses?"
"Oh yeah," Blaine says.
"And… do you remember them being cracked the next day?" Artie presses.
"…no, actually, now that you mention it," Blaine says, looking at him oddly.
The earthbender smiles. "Behold a secret to my success." With that, he uses his gloved hand to pick up a glass shard and press it into a jagged crack in the window. It clearly doesn't fit perfectly, but Artie just takes two fingers and scrapes them over the lines. Suddenly, the glass fuses together as if it was always meant to be.
"Whoa!" Blaine says. "That's… awesome."
Artie grins smugly. "Glass ain't nothing but melted sand. And sand, my friend, is earth."
"So you can glassbend?" Kurt says, incredulous.
"Well, sort of," Artie says. "I don't know how to do very much. Mostly, I can fuse it together and take it apart. It's how I've kept my glasses for so long. I can adjust my own prescription!"
"Who taught you how to do that?" Mercedes asks.
"Ummm…" Artie coughs. "Nobody."
She puts her hands on her hips. "Sure. Right."
Rachel's keen gossip sense tingles powerfully within her. "What's wrong?" she asks.
"Artie doesn't like to talk about himself," Finn says, sitting near the fire.
"Oh?" Rachel asks. "Why not?"
"I just don't," Artie says, continuing to fuse pieces of glass together and shove them into the cracks to keep the rain out.
"You don't have any fond memories you'd want to recall?" she asks. "No happy stories of childhood? No one you left behind?"
"I spent the past few years as a street urchin," Artie says.
"…oh," Rachel says quietly. "…and before that?"
Several sets of eyes try to pin the earthbender down. He squirms uncomfortably beneath their gazes. It's a testament to how tired he is that he doesn't balk altogether. Instead, he simply shrugs. "Don't remember," he says quietly.
Kurt blinks at him. "…that's your big secret? That's what you've been keeping from me this whole time?"
Artie shrugs again, fusing another piece of the window shut. "It's a little more complicated than that, but… basically, yeah," he says. "I don't remember much of anything before I was paralyzed." And I don't want to.
"Surely there is something positive," Rachel presses, not quite being able to take the hint. "Maybe you're just uncomfortable with the prospect of making yourself emotionally vulnerable. In which case, I believe a perfect solution would have all of us doing the same."
"…say what now?" Kurt asks.
"Well, if we all share something about ourselves, then Artie doesn't have to feel like he's sticking his neck out. This way, everyone shares, and we all know each other a little better!" she chirps. "What do you say?"
"Well…" Kurt starts.
"Great!" Rachel smiles. "I'll go first. Ahem… even in dark times, I always had my fathers. I remember being cast as the lead in a children's production of Sakura, Princess of the Trees, and almost immediately losing the role because someone's father bribed the director. They wouldn't even let me understudy. I was just heartbroken. So my fathers made their very own production. Obviously much more low-budget, and without an audience, but still… they made little costumes and played all the other characters, even hired Brad the Piano Player for a day so I could do the songs. It was sweet." She says, grinning softly. "I really miss them," she adds quietly, surprising herself with just how intensely true that statement is.
That statement rests in the room, with only the sound of the crackling fire and the storm outside to accompany it.
"I miss my mom," Finn says, after a few moments. "In our tribe, there was a lot of goodwill towards my family, 'cause my dad won the war…"
Mercedes coughs very pointedly.
Finn looks down. "Sorry," he sighs. "Anyway, there were a lot of other people who died, too, so she still had to work pretty hard to take care of us both. She wasn't a bender, but she was a super-awesome fisher. She had like… this spear thing…"
"A harpoon?" Kurt helpfully provides.
"Yeah!" Finn says. "She was epic with a harpoon. Big fish, little fish… sometimes she could even get two or three fish with one thrust. She'd go out on her boat and come back with enough fish to feed us, and to sell to the marketplace to pay for stuff, too. I kind of wish I could've helped her out more," Finn says quietly.
There's another little pause.
"That's actually how our parents met," Kurt says with a soft smile. "Well… sort-of. I heard that Mrs. Hudson's boat was damaged by an iceberg, and since my father was a Boatwright, I figured there was no reason not to casually recommend them to each other. It was strictly business at first—dad takes his boats very seriously. But when sparks fly, there's just no denying them. Mrs. Hudson—"
"Dude," Finn says. "Call her Carole! She's asked you like twenty times."
"—Carole," Kurt continues, "just kept coming back. For maintenance, for repairs, and eventually… for no reason at all besides good company. And my father certainly appreciated her companionship." He smiles wistfully. "They were married just a few months before I left. It was a beautiful wedding—I made sure of it."
"He totally did," Finn nods. "Dude was, like, mega-bridezilla. And he wasn't even the bride!"
Blaine chuckles at that, and the laughter spreads to everyone. Kurt fixes Finn with a mock-glare, but there's no real heat in it. Soon enough, the laughter dies down, and the floor is open again.
"My grandma had so many people to take care of," Mercedes starts. "I swear, sometimes it was like the woman had twenty hands. This one time, she caught Tommy trying to steal an appleberry pie from her kitchen window. Took that boy outside and gave him the telling of a lifetime. While she told him off, a bunch of boys from the village were playing a game of earthball nearby. Well, the ball got away from them, got launched up into the air and wound up headed straight for grandma."
"Ouch," Blaine says. "I bet they got in pretty bad trouble, too."
"Not at all," Mercedes says. "Grandma stomped up a flipper without even looking back. Without even breaking her sentence. Not only did the ball not hit her—she knocked it into the damn goal." She crosses her arms and grins. "I think that scared Tommy more than her scolding. He never tried that again."
"Wow," Blaine says. "That is some serious multitasking."
"The frightening thing is; she's not exaggerating," Kurt says. "I've met her grandmother. She's quite the woman."
Blaine huffs out a laugh, and then seems to grow somber again.
Kurt suddenly looks horrified. "Oh my La, Blaine, I'm so sorry. Here we are, all reminiscing about the people we've left behind, when you just… oh, we are such tools—"
"No!" Blaine says. "No, Kurt, it's fine, really. Just because they're… gone now," he says, swallowing thickly. "That doesn't mean I don't want to remember them."
He takes a deep breath, and nods, more to himself than anyone. "I think I'll go next." He closes his eyes. "My dad… he was never the same after mom died. Sometimes, it seemed like we barely talked about anything other than firebending. We'd go for days without speaking or seeing each other outside of practice. But I knew he loved me. Even if he wouldn't let me outside of the Palace… he at least made sure I had friends."
Blaine smiles sweetly, taking a short pause before continuing.
"Wes and David were my 'bodyguards,' on the official payroll, but all told, they were kids just like I was. Top firebenders, of course, but still close enough to my age for me to not feel weird hanging out with them. It was kind of awkward, at first—they were basically hired to look after me and make sure I didn't get hurt. But somewhere along the line, I stopped getting in trouble in spite of them and… started getting in trouble with them. We became friends. Best friends." He shakes his head. "They were my best friends. And they died protecting me."
Kurt wraps an arm around him. "I'm so sorry, Blaine."
"It's okay," the Prince says softly. "It was their choice. I understand that now. It wasn't about being paid or about doing their jobs. It was about protecting a friend, and that's exactly what they did. I would've been dead long before you even got to the Palace if it wasn't for them."
At this, Kurt hugs him full-on. "In that case, I wish I could've thanked them."
Blaine stays in Kurt's arms, and the silence is sweet, but sad. There is an unmistakable tinge of loss to the proceedings now, and the air hangs heavy.
It is this heaviness that prompts Artie to finally open up… if only a little. "There was… one guy who kind of looked out for me back in Ba Sing Se." He smiles wistfully. "The coolest motherfucker to ever walk the Earth Kingdom: Sir Mister 'The Master' Alabaster, King of the Lower Ring."
"That is quite the name," Kurt says primly.
"Damn straight it is," Artie nods. "He ran that mother. Everybody from petty thugs and pickpockets to bar owners and drug kingpins answered to him. Though I suppose you could say his official job title was that of a motherfucking P-I-M-P."
"…a pimp," Mercedes says. "You idolized a pimp." She throws her hands up to the air. "Good Gods, suddenly it all makes sense," she deadpans.
"Hey," Artie says. "Do not impugn the King. It was a dirty job, but it was a dirty city. Somebody had to control it, and control it he did, with an iron pimp-hand wrapped in a soft, velvet glove. He imposed order on chaos, and took care of those under his wing."
"How did you wind up 'under his wing'?" Rachel asks.
"Well," Artie says with a grin. "One of his favorite tricks was to have 'construction crews' conveniently block off certain city streets. When you went to take the detour, what should you find…" He throws his arms out. "…but an alley full of adorable little begging orphans. Including yours truly."
"He used fake orphans to solicit donations?" Rachel says, appalled. "That's awful!"
"Oh, no," Artie says. "The orphans were real, and it was usually more about stealing than getting donations. There was a trick to it—if you were going through the alley and you gave something, even a single copper coin, you were off-limits. But if you decided to be stingy—you left that alley much poorer than when you came in, if you know what I mean?" He finishes with a grin, flipping a spare piece of glass between his fingers, before flipping it like a coin and snatching it out of the air.
Rachel is still appalled, if slightly less so. "That is still… incredibly unethical."
Artie shrugs. "Hey, when you live in an unethical world, surrounded by unethical people, you gotta do what you gotta do to get by." The boy grins again. "The King liked me. Said I was 'just full of surprises.'"
"Well, he got that right," Mercedes says. The air feels warmer already, and though the wind howls outside, the company inside seems to keep the world at bay.
Mercedes decides to continue the storytelling round. "Actually, you just reminded me of—"
And then it all, quite literally, comes crashing in.
A/N: I just can't hold it in anymore. To steal a bit from Portal 2… "SURPRISE! We're doing it now!"
There's a high-pitched screeching noise, and suddenly, the sound of shattered glass echoes through the house, the howling wind becoming much louder as a window in another room is violently knocked in.
For a second, no one moves or breathes.
"Where did that come from?" Rachel asks.
"I think it was the kitchen," Blaine says.
A peal of thunder rattles the house, and there is a sound of movement from the kitchen.
"Shhhh," Kurt says, getting up slowly and motioning everyone to follow him. He and Blaine take the lead as the group slowly but surely moves towards the kitchen. Step, by step, by soft, careful step, Blaine and Kurt move through the entryway, towards the kitchen. The room is dark, but Blaine almost immediately spots the broken glass on the floor, as the rain blows in through the newly-opened window.
It's on him in a second.
"WHOA!"
A lightning-quick, strangely-shaped shadow leaps at him, and Blaine has a momentary freakout and falls over. Kurt is about to punch fire at the shadow when suddenly… it lands on Blaine's chest, and crows.
"…a messenger hawk?" Rachel says.
"That's… weird," Finn says.
"That's… not just any messenger hawk," Kurt whispers, slightly awed. "There's only one bird I've ever known to be that aggressive…"
Blaine looks up at the bird on his chest, peering down at him. "Pavarotti?"
Pavarotti caws in the affirmative.
The Prince smiles, but it's more in confusion than happiness. "I don't… what are you doing here, buddy?"
Pavarotti bends over, to indicate the scroll canister on his back. He hops off of Blaine and flutters over to the kitchen counter, as the Prince slowly, cautiously gets up and walks over to him, afraid the bird will evaporate if he moves too quickly. With careful hands, he opens the canister and retrieves the scroll.
Dear Sir or Madam,
If you are not who we are looking for; we apologize in advance for any inconvenience, inadvertent terror, or property damaged caused by our dragon hawk. Rest assured, we will be along to collect him shortly and compensate you for any damages. We strongly advise you to feed him in the meantime—we will not be held responsible for what happens if you choose to ignore this advice.
If you are who we are looking for; sit tight. We shouldn't be too far off.
Sincerely…
As Blaine reads the letter, Kurt hears voices calling out to each other, trying to be heard over the insane storm outside.
"…stupid bird! It's obvious that no one even lives here!"
"You don't know that. It could just be an exceptionally… rustic abode."
"Ballsacks. This place is as empty as—"
The door is suddenly kicked in and everyone turns towards it, as two young men dash into the room, covering their heads. They're both soaked to the bone, wearing cobbled-together armor and filthy, patched clothes. One is as dark as Mercedes. The other is tan-skinned, with short, straight hair.
They take a moment to catch their breath, seemingly unaware of anyone else being in the room. The tan-skinned one is the first to look up. "…empty as a what now?"
The darker one looks up as well. "Oh!" he says. "My… Agni, I am so terribly sorry. I… that is… we didn't mean to intrude it's just… your home is so… rustic, we actually thought it might be empty—not that we mean that in an offensive way. There's nothing wrong with an antique…"
A light clacking noise echoes from the kitchen. The canister bounces a couple times off the ground, having slipped from Blaine's limp fingers. The tan one—his expression smug at his friend's bout of verbal diarrhea—looks over at the sound and freezes, his expression going slack. The darker one continues to prattle until his friend tugs on his arm, and he, too, turns towards Blaine with an expression of complete, disbelieving awe.
No one moves. No one even breathes. What passes between the three of them silently demands silence, and everyone present has no choice but to acquiesce.
Blaine shakes his head just barely, his mouth gaping like a fish on land. His eyes fill with moisture that refuses to fall.
The tan-skinned one is the first to break the silence. "Well," he says, his voice rough with suppressed emotion. "You are… alive. And well. That's good. That's excellent, it will make it—"
And that's all he gets to say. Blaine is across the floor and wrapped around him in the blink of an eye, clinging to him like he's the only thing in the world that's real. The Prince's arms reach past him to pull in the darker one as well, and Blaine buries his face in whichever one is closer.
They hesitate for just a moment, not quite sure what to do.
And then the tan one's face crumples and he wraps himself around Blaine just as tight. The darker one clings to both of them and suddenly, they are smiling and crying and laughing and sobbing, all of them, all at once.
"You're alive…"
Kurt doesn't know who said it.
Maybe it was one of them.
Maybe it was all three.
Whatever said it, they're clearly all thinking it, because suddenly, their circle becomes even tighter.
And Kurt gets the distinct impression that he has just witnessed a miracle.
A/N: It's exactly who you think it is. THEY LIVE! Coming Up Next – Blaine is reunited with two people he had long thought lost. What happened to them? What have they been doing all this time? How did they find him? The answers come from their own mouths in Dragon Hawks, Part 1: The Tale of Wes and David. Don't miss it. ^_^
