The bar was on the outskirts of republic city, with low-burning gas lamps and a floor that had never seen a broom. An older crowd, mostly Earth Kingdom immigrants blowing off steam after a day on the construction sites that dominated the neighborhood. It was the perfect place for a Councilmember to find a few hours of anonymity. Sokka had called around, but more and more nights now it was just him. Katara and Aang busy with the kids, Toph working late at the precinct with Kanto. His thoughts ticked briefly to Suki and then away. No reason to dig up ghosts.
But just as that thought formed, a ghost appeared in front of him. He was so surprised he gaped openly, leaning forward in his seat to get a closer look.
There was no mistaking it. It looked exactly the same as the last time he saw it, maybe 10 years earlier, in a fight against Fire Nation separatists. The smooth curve of its spine caught the lamplight, glinting silver and blue back at him. There was only one Boomerang like that. And with a twist in his gut he realized it was here with another man.
Of course it was, how stupid could he be? A Boomerang like that doesn't spend the rest of its life alone just because some idiot leaves it behind. He was not going to make a scene. He started to turn on his stool, intent on settling his bill and getting the hell out of there before he made an ass of himself. But before he could, the man with his boomerang pulled it from its sheath and flipped it into the air, fumbling it gracelessly. Peels of laughter erupted around the table as the boomerang- his boomerang- clattered to the grimy floor.
The man's voice carried across the bar, thick with laughter. "Don't worry boys, it's a boomerang. It'll always come back!"
And maybe he'd had too much to drink after all, because the words were still ringing in the air when Sokka brought his fist down into the man's head.
His buddies jumped up, ready to fight, but a wave of hesitation passed through them as they sized Sokka up. He was a big man, a head taller than most of them. And he was angry.
"I think you have something of mine," he practically growled, snatching up the boomerang from where it had fallen. Tension hung thick for another long moment before, one by one, the men sat back down, the last of them helping his fallen friend back into his seat. The bartender, Sal, eyed Sokka coldly, trying to decide if his business was worth this kind of trouble.
Sokka settled back into the bar, setting the boomerang on his left beside his drink. What the hell was that? Sokka wasn't a jealous man, at least not usually. And who was he to barge back into the boomerang's life after all this time and say who it can or can't be held by? Sokka glanced and the boomerang, then away again. He flagged Sal down and ordered another, a double this time. He needed it.
But as Sal was pouring his drink, all Sokka could think of was the moment of tension before releasing the boomerang into the air. He'd felt it hundreds of times. Thousands. That breathless moment of stillness, the surge of release, the perfect trust that it would return to him. Its body cool against his palm in the hot rush of battle. He finished the drink in two gulps and signaled for another.
When Sokka rested his hand back on the bar, and it was centimeters from the boomerang's sleek body. His fingers twitched. He didn't move closer, but he didn't pull away either. The curve of its spine was so close he could feel a hint of the metal's coolness on his fingertips. He took a breath to steady himself, but it was impossible to ignore the weight of history between them.
He reached out again, this time placing a hand firmly on the boomerang. It was like no time had passed at all, all sharp lines and clean edges, its angles fitting against his fingers like they'd never been apart. The metal warmed under his skin, and a knot of tension he hadn't been aware of went out of his shoulders. He paid Sal and began the walk home, boomerang nestled under his arm, where it belonged.