MUSHING TWO CHAPTERS TOGETHER SO I CAN FINALLY CATCH UP WITH AO3 lol

"Kindness in words creates confidence. Kindness in thinking creates profoundness. Kindness in giving creates love."
― Lao-Tzu

Zuko was still, somehow, surprised at how quickly Jet could transform from one person to another. Not in a bad way – not anymore, at least. But somehow, he could go from crying, to kissing, to back to same old casual Jet, to asleep all within roughly twenty minutes. Seamlessly. Zuko wondered if it was something he tried to do. If there was some sort of effort put into it.

Jet had fallen asleep almost as soon as they made it on the balloon, curled up at the bottom, his cheek tucked on his shoulder. Zuko supposed he couldn't blame him. It had been a rollercoaster of a day, especially for him.

Zuko reached up and touched his lips somewhat mindlessly as he gave a quick, now effortless burst of fire to the burner; still in a bit of disbelief. It all seemed so spur of the moment. Then they were walking back to the balloon, and it was all over. It was the last bit of energy he had in him, Zuko supposed. Jet looked like he hadn't slept in days on the walk back, and Zuko wasn't about to pester him with questions at the time. He needed rest, to sleep this crazy, adrenaline fueled day off.

The kiss had been … unexpected, but it hadn't been bad. Sloppy and tearstained, but not bad. Not disgusting. He actually thoroughly enjoyed much more than he ever thought he would. He didn't know why he'd expected a kiss from a man to feel any different than a womans. Like men's lips were made of concrete or something. He'd never given it much thought before now. Never seemed important. But now it was all he could think about.

So, what did that make him?

What did that make Jet?

Was this kind of thing… even allowed?

Of course, it was allowed; he knew that. It wasn't some big secret that people did these kinds of things. Not even all that uncommonly, especially in the military and on womanless battle ships. But never seemed to be allowed for him. Royal girls were allowed for him. Palace, prim and proper girls were allowed for him. Mai was allowed for him. But he'd always been one to go outside the bounds of what was allowed, especially if the bound was asinine. And he was a traitor anyway now. None of it mattered.

And Mai. What would she take of all of this? She probably never wanted him back anyway. After the stunt he pulled with the letter. Not that the whole thing wasn't still a little sore to the touch.

But his biggest fear, which surprised him like no other, was whether it was something Jet had meant to do. It had been so emotion driven. So quick. Had he just been the end of the tidal wave? Like the popping open of a bottle of champagne in the wake of the moment?

He supposed he'd have to wait for an answer, if he ever had the nerve to even ask.

But right now, he just needed to guide the balloon; A small smile curling his lips the whole way.

He didn't have to wait long. If there's one thing about Jet, it was that he was either in or out. And he was definitely in. Like the kiss had opened a floodgate.

Jet woke from his nap in a bit of a daze, but quickly snapped himself out as the two touched down on temple grounds. Before the canvas of the balloon had even halfway deflated, his mouth had found Zuko's again. And Zuko let it without much protest. Did he even want to protest? Not very much, it seemed.

There was an actual technique Jet had. No scrape of teeth or awkward chin bumps this time. And he was all but swimming in it. But only for a moment. Seemed much longer than it actually was. Probably only a few seconds in hindsight.

Then Jet pulled away and grinned his usual. "Sorry," he said, his breath still close enough to tickle. "Had to get a quick one before I go get the kid." And then he turned on his heals and sauntered away, leaving Zuko opened mouthed and wordless. Like that was just something people did. Just kiss someone once and just keep doing it. No questions asked. Definitely not the proper way to court, but Jet wasn't proper with anything, so was it a surprise? And it was sort of comforting, in its own weird way. Like it wasn't a big deal. Like it wasn't something he had to worry about. The causality of it overtaking the strangeness.

He picked his jaw up and unfurrowed his brow and dealt with the rest of the balloon. He didn't see Jet for the rest of the night.

He showed Aang the ancient form the next day, and tried to explain the best he could the ultimate secret to fire bending. Aang seemed to pick up quickly. He was a bubbly kid anyway. No surprise he'd relish in the new way to firebend. Jet was off doing who knows what, and Zuko tried to focus on training alone.

He was sweaty and not very enticing by noon time. A break was needed for the both of them. He rinsed the sheen from his hair from a water bucket nearby, the coolish water feeling icy combined with the air.

It was almost spring now, he noticed. How time flies. The snow had seemed to fade to random patches as the air warmed, and it hadn't fallen since Jet found him in the cave. The comet at the end of the summer was getting closer and closer. But he tried not to dwell on it. Right now, he just needed to train. Just focus on training.

Aang had wandered, probably to go show Katara something; like he was always doing. And Zuko took a much-needed breather on the steps of the stone courtyard where they'd been practicing.

"You're gonna' catcha' cold like that," Jet's voice called from behind.

Zuko turned to face him, water dripping from his hair, and Jet was sauntering, always sauntering, towards him; Tikka hanging from his hip like a potato sack. She had a little water tribe coat on, and Jet had his long flowy one back too. Where did he even get these things? Did he steal them?

Zuko didn't say anything as he sat next to him. He feared anything he would say would rush the blood to his cheeks.

"I wanted to show you something," Jet said, answering the question he'd been thinking. Then he planted Tikka in between them, who was burbling baby noises. Zuko looked down to her, then back to Jet, who was looking at nothing in the distance.

I swear to the spirits Zuko, you fucking touch her and I'll cut your fucking head off.

He hadn't forgotten. That kind of thing was hard to forget.

"Uh, hello," he said to her with a little wave, then curled his hands back in his lap. She looked at him and smiled a little smile. He'd never seen her up this close. She really was a cute kid. But he – he wasn't quite sure what he was allowed to say even. Was – was this Jet's way of introduction?

She squeezed her little sock octopus, another odd item Zuko wondered about, and leaned against Jet, who finally tore his eyes from whatever he'd been looking at. He looked down to her and smiled the most tender of smiles, and it was incredibly heartwarming. He'd never seen Jet smile like that. It was a little sad for Zuko, a pang of what could have been. But what was is what was. Didn't mean other people couldn't have what he didn't.

"Don't ever touch her octopus," Jet said casually, lifting his eyes to meet Zuko's for just a moment. "She gets very upset."

Zuko smiled a little. "Good to know."

Jet paused for a minute. "You – you can hold her, if you want," he said, not reluctantly, but sheepishly. Like he felt bad for what he said before.

"Are you sure?" Zuko asked, mostly out of reflex.

Jet chuckled a little. "You don't have to if you don't want to."

And Zuko supposed that was the best answer he was going to get. He wasn't very good with children. He never felt like he was fun enough for them. Like he was a bore to them. Much too serious for their whims. And she was so small and fragile. What if he dropped her on her head or something? The thought was terrifying. But he felt honored; that Jet trusted him enough to offer it in the first place. Tikka was the thing Jet held dearest to him, and Zuko wasn't quite sure he was ready for the responsibility of holding her.

"Are you one of those people that's scared of babies?" Jet asked with a smirk.

"No," Zuko lied.

Jet chuckled again. "You are such a bad liar."

"I'm not I just- we can hang out from right here. Is that okay with you?" Zuko asked humorously.

Jet looked to him, amused, then lifted a piece of grass to his lips (where did he even get it?). "I suppose."

Then Aang came back from break.

Zuko was sure Jet was stalking him again, but at least this time there was something in it for him. At least it was the fun kind of stalking, not the stalk you to find evidence you're a firebender so I can turn you into the police kind of stalk.

Jet would find him somehow, always when no one was around (seemed to be an unspoken agreement), and pin him to a wall, kiss him for just a moment (never for long enough for him to do anything about it, that is), then leave with a grin. Leaving him blushed and undid in the middle of the hallway or behind a tree or in the courtyard during a break. How one person could always be such a pesterer, Zuko couldn't understand.

And somehow, he never tasted of grass, despite him always having it. What did he do? Handpick the world's only tasteless pieces of grass? He didn't make any sense. Did he carry it in his pocket? Where is he getting this grass? An unsolved mystery.

He must have snuck a flower in his pocket too.

"Uh, Sifu Hotman, there's a dandelion in your hair," Aang noted on, what was it, the third day of this? And why did nobody here call him by his name? Sparky? Sifu Hotman? Worst of all, Pretty Boy? Though Katara never called him anything, so that was nice.

Zuko tried not to blush and removed it. Of course, Jet would sneak a flower into his hair. That's a very Jet thing to do. Infuriating, but somehow a little sweet, at least in terms of Jet. And he supposed it was better than prodding him at every moment like before.

"I was laying in the grass," he excused. He wondered if Aang was smart enough to know better, but how could he? Seemed a reasonable excuse enough. As long as he didn't make the connection between grass and Jet, he should be fine.

Jet seemed to be riding some sort of wave of light heartedness that was a little foreign to Zuko. Or maybe he was just like this with everyone else anyway, and never wanted to show him this side of him before. But he couldn't say it wasn't a little nice, to not be prodded and poked at every waking moment. But more so, he was happy for Jet. It seemed the weight of the world had been lifted from his shoulders. Perhaps it had been.

But still, he was confused. Why did Jet want to keep kissing him, of all people? Surely, he had other options. He wasn't a bad looking guy, and he had nice shoulders. Spirits, what was he doing? Thinking about Jet's nice looking shoulders. And his warm smile. And his lips that were too soft…

Just focus on training, he told himself. Stop thinking about it.

But failing at something had never been so easy before.

He found himself waiting for breaks in training. Anticipating with a little bit too much excitement, looking over his shoulder, playing this game along with Jet. Perhaps he could find Jet and sneak kisses to him as well. No, that would seem much too eager. And eager he was not. At least, that's what he told himself.

Around the fourth day, he had figured out Jet's schedule and timed his breaks accordingly. At noon, Tikka went down for a nap, leaving Jet to wander or do whatever it is that he does when he's not sneaking kisses to him. He told Aang to take an extra half hour today, for reasons he didn't explain. Aang was happy enough with it, taking off to play some sort of game with the boy in the wheelchair (Teo? Maybe).

As expected, Jet popped in under the rolled door to his room. The sunlight coming in through the window left a line of warmth alone the stone wall, and that is the place Jet decided to pin him this time, snaking his way onto Zuko's lips. Tired of his antics, tired of his teasing, tired of his ten second jests; Zuko clamped fat fistfuls of the fabric of his hips, just above the cold metal armor, holding him there.

Jet couldn't hide the grin amongst his cocky, moving mouth. He spoke, just breaking away from Zuko long enough for the words to leave his lips. "You like it that much," he breathed, not a question. It was trying because it was true. Jet could do whatever he wanted to him, it seemed, no matter how alarming or exciting the thought was.

"You're annoying," Zuko replied, then a long silence of mind-numbing nipping, the sounds embarrassingly loud amongst the echoing stone walls. Jet's hands caressed his face, his right thumb a little lower on Zuko's cheek than the left. His hands were large, much larger than Mai's, and seemed to swallow him, but it wasn't unpleasant. And Jet smelled of leather and something earthy and herby, maybe rosemary. It didn't matter. Whatever it was, he couldn't get enough.

Jet broke away again, and Zuko craned his neck to hold his lips as long as possible, much to the enjoyment of Jet. "What's gotten into you?" he asked, his lips teasingly close still.

"I took a long break today," Zuko replied plainly, glaring at his stupid lips, wanting to shut them up. But they were just out of reach.

"Wanted to see me?" Jet asked, a redundant question, his eyes littered with amusement.

"Shut up," Zuko replied, so Jet did, using his technique of mouth open and tongue in. Another mind numbing, wet sounding silence, and Jet drew away again. Zuko groaned at the loss.

"I'm sparring with Sokka later," he half whispered, trying to sound steady, composed. "You should come."

"We have to talk about this now?" Zuko asked, exhausted of his antics.

"There a better time?" Jet teased, knowing exactly what he was doing.

"Fine," Zuko groaned. "I'll come."

Jet's brow perked suggestively at that, and Zuko rolled his eyes. How remedial.

Jet planted one more quick kiss to his lips and unknotted Zuko's hands from his waist. "I'll see you later?" he asked.

"Where are you going?" Zuko asked before he had the chance to think.

"Gonna' train with Toph. Why? Miss me already?"

"Toph?" Zuko questioned.

"Yeah, she's gonna' shoot rocks at me," Jet answered.

Zuko's eyebrow quirked. Now this he had to see.

Toph and Jet stood the opposite the stone courtyard, a cocky smirk pulling both their lips. The rest of the gang sat off to the sidelines. Aang sat next to Katara, who was holding Tikka, who sat next to Sokka, then Zuko at the end. Toph had a pile of pressed together sand disks, (great for sparring, dispersing on impact thus blunting the blow), and one would think it was a wrestling match with how much smugness was in the air.

"Sure you wanna' do this, lover boy?" Toph called.

"Ooh, lover boy?" Jet questioned. "I like that."

Toph's smirk grew a little wider. "These disks still hurt, you know."

"I know," Jet answered, twirling his swords like batons in his hands. "Try not to hurt me too bad. It's been a while."

Toph laughed, quick and mocking. "You think since you suck, I'm gonna' go easy on you?"

Jet smirked. "Nah. Bring it on." He lifted his hand and beckoned his fingers around his sword.

"Alright," Toph said.

She kicked a disk up and punched it, sending it hurtling towards him, bullet quick. He leaned his shoulder back, a fluid, effortless roll, shifting his foot back and sending the projectile behind him. Torso shots. He thought, his swords still at his sides. He smirked once more. "That it?"

She laughed in response, kicking two this time, one after the other. The first was lower, towards his feet, he jumped in response. The second was torso again, and he had to lean his shoulder mid air to avoid it. His feet planted, and his heartbeat quickened. That was a little harder, but not undoable.

He crossed his swords in front of him. This wasn't even a warm up for her. She was about to ramp it up, and he knew it. "Come on, give me some target practice," he called.

And she obliged, hurtling an uncountable number of disks with swift movements of her hands, slicing through the air, one after another. He cut through them, concentrating, seeing each one for what it was, and sending the halves off centered and to the side of him. He got all but one, the one close to the last, and it clipped his shoulder armor leaving a scuff of sand on the metal.

He's quicker than I remember. Zuko thought, his eyes trained on Jet's qualified movements.

"Not bad, lover boy," Toph taunted. "You're staying pretty far away though. Whassa' matter? Scared?"

"I didn't know that's how you wanted to play it," Jet said. "But alright. First one to get tripped up loses. And no moving the earth under my feet. That's cheating. Only disks and swords."

"You're on," Toph challenged.

He's gonna' try to trip her up? Good luck with that.

Jet was on his heals in an instant, launching his body forwards, his swords lowered at his sides. Toph sent and expert amount of projectiles his way, but he dodged seamlessly. To the left, to the right. Duck and jump and keep running. He had to cut a couple the closer he got, no longer able to dodge, sending the fragments of sand bursting into the air.

He jumped the last distance, a good few feet, and for a moment Toph couldn't see. She waited, anticipating. The unsharpened inner circle of Jet's hook barely brazed her ankle, about to catch it to send it upwards to off balance her.

Zuko's eyes widened. Shit, he's actually gonna' do it.

But it didn't have the chance. She heaved a disk to his side, knocking the breath clean out of him on impact. He doubled back, gasping.

"Almost got me," she said with a smirk. "That was pretty smart. Jumping the distance."

He couldn't respond just yet, holding the spot on his side that was surely going to be thoroughly bruised. He held a finger of patience up, and she laughed.

"You good?" she asked.

He nodded, a little doubled over. "I don't want to play anymore. You win," he said, gasping out a chuckle. "Good game."

"Told you they hurt," she rubbed in.

"Shit yeah, they do," he admitted, hand still cupped over his side and his sword. He gingerly brushed the splattered sand off of himself. He was going to feel that later.

And when later that night came, he definitely did. He didn't think a rib was broken, but damn if it wasn't close. His whole side ached, and he even had to cancel sparring with Sokka. When did he get so old? One hit and out wasn't him. He hadn't fought in a while. That was most likely it.

He poked at the large bruise, tunic off and sat on his bed, examining it under the lantern light. It was pretty gnarly, but he supposed he'd done it to himself. Tikka was asleep already, curled up in the makeshift bed he'd made for her the opposite of the small room. Couldn't have her rolling off the raised mattress.

Someone kicked the bottom of the rolled door, and his head shot up from his injury. "Yeah?"

"It's me," Zuko said from outside, as if that explained everything. Maybe it did.

"Well, come in," Jet said expectantly, a little perplexed.

"My hands are full. Roll back the door," Zuko said.

Jet grimaced and stood, grumbling to himself about Zuko making him get up. He shifted back the door, and Zuko did have his hands full; Two cups of steaming tea in one hand and two bowls balanced on the other arm and two pillows tucked under his armpits.

"You brought me dinner?" Jet questioned, holding the door with one hand and his side with the other.

"Don't think too much about it," Zuko responded.

"Okay," Jet said, still perplexed, and stepped aside, allowing Zuko to dip under the door.

Zuko dropped the pillows out from under his arms, slipping a bowl and a cup to Jet a moment later. Jet watched as he set himself up, stiff and straight in the lotus position on his pillow on the floor. Zuko gestured with his chopsticks for Jet to do the same, and Jet snapped himself out of his confusion and did.

"How's your side?" Zuko questioned, peering to his bowl as he tapped his rice around.

"It'll be okay," Jet answered, still shifting himself into a comfortable position across from Zuko.

"You're an idiot," Zuko noted.

Jet smiled a little. "Sometimes, yeah."

Zuko peered over his shoulder to the sleeping Tikka, curled up on the fur coat bed Jet had made for her. Then he peered over to Jet's bed, which was practically bare besides a small, scratchy throw blanket.

"You don't get cold in here? It's all stone," Zuko questioned, his brow perked.

"Yeah, but Tikka needs the fur more than me," Jet answered honestly, picking pieces of vegetables to pop into his mouth.

"Why not let her sleep with you?" Zuko questioned.

"She can roll off the bed, and I don't want to squish her," Jet said. "These air temple beds are tiny, but if she falls off, she'll get hurt."

Zuko thought that over for a moment, chewing his food and sipping his tea.

He sat his cup down and looked to Jet. "Do you want another blanket?" he asked, exhausted of Jet's pride already.

Jet looked to him and shrugged. "I'm not gonna' ask for it."

Zuko sighed and stood, leaving the room with his cup still on the floor. Jet didn't try to stop him. Too sore to do much of anything, really. Zuko returned a moment later and tossed a bundle of red blanket onto Jet's bed.

"What about you?" Jet asked as Zuko settled back onto his pillow.

"Firebender, remember," Zuko answered.

Jet rolled his eyes. "Idiot. Just sleep in here," he suggested. "Everyone wins."

Zuko perked his brow at him and mulled it over.

"And no, you don't get to cuddle me," Jet added casually.

Zuko smiled a little. "Who said I wanted to?"

Jet smiled too, stacking his bowl and cup off by the door to gather in the morning. He heaved himself to his feet, grimacing at his sore side. He slid into the bed and rolled his back to Zuko, pulling the blanket over himself. He pointed to his feet.

"You get that end," he ordered. "Wall side."

"Why do I get wall side?" Zuko questioned.

"Cause you're smaller than me," Jet answered.

"By like an inch," Zuko noted.

"Every inch counts, Zuko," Jet said with a smirk.

Zuko rolled his eyes, even though he sort of set himself up for that one. He threw the pillow he was sitting on at the back of Jet's head. Jet looked over his shoulder and gave him the look, but put the pillow under his head anyway. Zuko gathered the other pillow and had to, of course, climb over Jet to get to the wall side. Jet gave him a self-satisfied grin, which Zuko ignored.

"Just don't molest me in my sleep," Jet noted, closing his eyes and rubbing his face on the pillow, which smelled peppery just like Zuko. Surprisingly comforting.

"Here I was worried about you," Zuko retorted, shoving his pillow into the crack against the wall to lean against. His legs barely rubbed against Jet's rarely unarmored ones under the blanket, and he tried to ignore the sensation.

"Shut up and go to sleep," Jet said.

Zuko gave him the look, but Jet's eyes were already closed. He propped himself in the corner, crossed his arms in front of him, and tried to sleep too.

Jet awoke to Tikka crying for him, like every other morning. She had a better internal clock than him most days. He sat up quickly, forgetting his bruise, and inhaled a sharp breath.

Zuko at some point in the night had slid down from his opposite corner and was sleeping like a normal person on the bed. Jet smiled a little despite his pain, and forced himself to get up from the warmth of the blankets.

He scooped Tikka into his arms and did their morning routine, and he wasn't even sure if the sun was all the way up yet. It must be barely peaking over the horizon, the line of light coming in through the window still muted and soft. Zuko was fast asleep still, to his surprise. Most days he heard him waking up early, around the same time as Tikka did.

There was some early morning commotion in the hallway. A rolling sound and the shuffle of feet. Jet's ears perked at it, but if it didn't involve him, he didn't worry about it.

Then someone knocked on the stone outside his room. His brows furrowed, and he picked Tikka up and went to answer it. Outside stood Haru, Teo, and much to his surprise - The Duke.

"Uh, hey," he said. "What's up?"

Teo smiled, warm and genuine. "The Duke wanted to ask you something," he said kindly. Jet looked down to The Duke, who looked sheepish under his helmet, and Jet swallowed the lump of guilt in his throat.

"I – I wanted to know if Tikka could play with us," The Duke said innocently.

Jet's brow perked. That wasn't what he was expecting, but he'd take it. Better than The Duke not talking to him at all.

"Supervised," Haru added from behind the others.

Jet had a moment of hesitation, never really haven let Tikka do this kind of thing before.

You know, in the water tribe, it's pretty common for kids to be taken care of collectively. Sure, there's the parents. But we all play a part. It takes a village. Tiguaak's voice reigned in his head.

He sighed, not really intentionally. He supposed he had to detach her from his hip at some point. Perhaps some time around other kids would be good too.

"We can take her down the hill on my wheelchair. She'll have fun. Not the steep hill, of course," Teo said kindly.

Jet smiled a little. "Okay," he relented. "Just be careful."

"We will," The Duke answered and gave him a shy smile. Jet smiled, a little sadly, and kneeled to meet his eyes.

"You know," Jet started as he handed Tikka off to Teo, who smiled as he put her in his lap. "You're not the youngest anymore. You ready for that?"

"Mhm," The Duke answered. "Being the youngest stinks."

Jet chuckled a little. "But it means you have to take care of the littler ones too. Protect them. Think you can do it?'

"Yeah," The Duke answered confidently with a pat to his wooden staff. Jet smiled. Perhaps he had rubbed off more than he'd thought.

"I'm trusting you. It's a big responsibility," Jet said.

The Duke gave him a real smile this time. "I won't let you down," he said.

Jet smiled too. "Okay, go have fun. Be careful."

"We will!" The Duke reiterated.

Jet chuckled and nodded to Haru, who nodded in understanding back. He seemed responsible enough. Him and Teo combined could handle it. Jet was caring for children when he was younger than them. These kids got this. Besides, his side could use the break from carrying Tikka around.

"Just bring her back if she starts acting up," Jet added as they began to walk away.

"You got it," Teo said, but at that point he was much too enthralled with Tikka to really hear him.

Jet smiled and ducked back under the rolled door to his room.

"Our enemies are not demons, but human beings like ourselves." - Lao Tzu

Military deserters were an interesting bunch, both earth and fire alike. Some were squeamish, couldn't handle the ins and outs of war. Some were broken and scared, didn't know what else to do. And some were pure cowards, having ran from their posts when shit got to it. But they all had one thing in common. They wanted the war to end. And agreed the military wasn't getting it done. The band of misfits was moving through the wilderness, drawing closer and closer to the capital of the Fire nation. They had one mission at hand. Kill the Fire Lord; By any means possible.

"They didn't tell us," a nameless man said to Smellerbee, one hand curled in his lap and the other always pointedly at his sword, much like her. He was fire nation infantry, and he had, what she assumed, permanent bandages wrapped over his face and hands, hiding the scars from his tale. His voice was hardened, stiff, like the story was just another story. "About the firebenders overhead. They sacrificed the whole division. We – I barely made it out. I sat burned to a crisp in a field for two days before an Earth Kingdom family helped me. I never went back. I've been hiding here."

"What's your name?" Smellerbee asked.

"Aki," he answered.

"Let me see your scars," Smellerbee said pointedly, an order more than anything else. Longshot watched in silence from beside her, the camp fire flickering light onto the glittery black sand of fire nation beaches.

The man lifted a shakey hand and unclipped the heavy red armor from his shoulders. With a shudder of breath, he unraveled the bandages and revealed a torso of raised bumpy scars, missing muscle tissue and a hand with fingers torched down to nubs. He, however, did not reveal his face. But his eyes were soft, heartbreakingly young, and honest below the white linen.

"You can't fight," Smellerbee noted, looking over his vast injuries.

"No," he agreed. "But I can think. And I can plan. I was stationed in the Fire Lord's palace before. Guess they wanted to show us the good life for a while before sending us to slaughter, but I'm the closest that infantry has been to him. I know more than the others."

"You have to take care of yourself," Smellerbee said, not unkindly. "No one here will do it for you."

"I can," he said, raising his left hand that was somehow unmarred.

Smellerbee looked to Longshot, who nodded curtly. "Okay," she agreed. "There's jook in the pot, and take off the red. There's extra leather armor and furs in the lifeboat. It will blend in with the forest. Take some. You'll need it."

Smellerbee wasn't sure how she became the leader of this - whatever it was. It started with Ping, a Dai Li deserter, then morphed from there to a couple of Ba Sing Se guards that had abandoned ship. One of them had a generational family friend from the Fire Nation, and it all grew from there. Now, the group of roughly twenty five was on the black sands of the Fire Nation, their stolen fire navy ship scuttled off shore, leaving no direction for return. This mission was of life and death, and they were all going to die. They knew that the moment their boots stepped ashore. All was well, as long as the Fire Lord went with them.

They even had a water tribe man thrown in the mix; A man named Tiguaak. They met snaking their way down the shore. Turns out, he and a few other water tribesmen were on the same mission as them, but they didn't make it out alive. Tiguaak was the only one left out of their group. Smellerbee had been worried he was too soft for the job at first, but after seeing him move, blood stained on his skin, she was led to believe otherwise. When she asked him why he painted himself in deer's blood, he answered because of a shirshu that had snuffed his tribesmen out and lead to their deaths. She knew he was a warrior right then and there. The next day, every warrior she had was painted in blood and covered in animal skins.

He was a quiet man, at least now. War will do that to a person. But she respected his judgement. Ping, Tiguaak, and Longshot were her go to planners and leaders. It had gotten them this far and for this long. No reason to stop believing in them now. They'd been on the black shores for two months, slowly inching towards their goal. Vigilantism or guerilla warfare, whatever you wanted to call it, it would get the job done eventually.

They slipped through the trees, undiscovered and under the cover of the sun that had yet to rise. There was a small infantry post upcoming - according to Aki. They could resupply there. Fire Nations forests were foreign and hunting and gathering was difficult, so they had to do something. Otherwise, they were going to starve.

The group surveyed the outpost, hidden tucked away on a hillside, the grass coming up to their chests. Smellerbee waved her hands for the rest of the men to fan out down a line to see more. They did - without question, their muddied and bloodied furs as their camouflage. The men had an understanding, if one were to get caught, they would be left behind. So, don't get caught.

Longshot pointed a thin finger over the tall grass. A shirshu and a rider surveying the early morning sunlit field.

"That's him," Tiguuak said, the blood on his face flaking off as he scrunched his nose. "That's the shirshu and the rider that killed the others."

"Longshot," Smellerbee ordered, and he obliged. Standing just long enough to dock an arrow, pull it back, and release it. The arrow burst through the air, curving upwards then down, in silence. It struck home, and the rider slumped off the animal without alerting the others.

Smellerbee waved her hands forwards, and in four different lines - the men shuffled through the tall grass, merely a herd of animals to anyone that looked down, towards the wilderness outpost; their swords and spears lowered to stay unseen. How she could turn this shady bunch into coordinated assassins, she wasn't sure. But she'd done it. And that's what mattered.

She came to the rider and the shirshu, which looked lost now that it didn't have a man to lead it. With a grunt and a heave and without the help of the lot behind her, she heaved his body into the tall grass. Then, she tied the shirshu to a root in the ground. They may be able to come back for it later.

The outpost was small, only a rag tag group of non benders sent out to the wilderness to rot. Smellerbee's men pressed themselves against the wooden barrier, right underneath the watch post that was empty. They weren't expecting an attack on their own grounds. Most of their men must not even be awake yet.

With a knowing movement of her hand, the archers of the bunch clambered in silence up the wooden spikes; sitting just below the top of the wall. The pikemen held the two entrances, their spears out to pierce anyone who attempted escape. And last but not least, Longshot and the swordsmen took their position with Smellerbee.

"Aki, stay with me," she ordered. "But take out your sword. Do what you can."

"Yes sir," he said, the words muffled against his bandages. He unsheathed his sword and held it warily in his left palm; his dominant hand would do him no good.

"They're not expecting us. Find the leaders, the ones with the special uniforms, and hold them. Try to get them to surrender after. If not, kill everyone," she ordered. All the swordsmen nodded.

They slipped past the pikemen and into the outpost. Whatever general they had here was an idiot. They didn't even have the entrances that well-guarded. Two unsuspecting slit throats later and they were well on their way inside. If they thought they could hang out in the forest and get drunk all day, they were wrong.

Smellerbee peeped around the corner of a sloppily build barrack, her eyes trained on the half-dressed soldiers inside. They were laughing and sloshing rice wine onto the rickety wooden planks. Drinking this early in the morning? Good. That made her job that much easier.

That's when she spotted him; The general or whatever he was in his pompous looking uniform, his helmet tucked under his arm like an ornament instead of armor. He was drinking right alongside his men. What a mess they were.

"That's General Ganga," Aki whispered.

"Longshot, get his attention," Smellerbee said.

Longshot docked an arrow, aimed for a split second through the window, and let the arrow fly. It shot right between the general's arm and his torso, sending the helmet he was holding clamoring to the floor behind him. The whole room went silent, and some drinks fell from hands as the group of roughly twenty soldiers caught up to what just happened.

"Who's there?" the general called, unsheathing his sword. His soldiers hurriedly looked for their weapons, but another arrow pinning a man to the floor stopped them dead in their tracks.

"You're surrounded already General Ganga," Smellerbee said, stepping out so she could be seen through the opened wall of the barrack. The general's eyes narrowed, studying her face covered in blood and the dagger in her hand.

"What are you?" he asked. "A vengeful spirit?"

"Something like that," she answered. "My men have every escape route you have covered. My archers are lined outside your walls, and my pikemen are ready at your gates."

"What do you want?" he asked.

"Surrender," she answered.

He laughed, kick and mocking. "Why? So, the Fire Lord can have my head?"

"Either him or me," she said, twirling her dagger.

"You're just a boy," he said. "What can you do?"

She stayed silent and sheathed her dagger, a serious look about her face. The general smiled as if he'd seen right through her.

"You don't have us surrounded. You're bluffing," he said snidely.

"If that's what you think," she said casually.

"Archers!" the general called, and a soldier whipped around from his watch tower not too far away. Longshot was at Smellerbee's side in an instant. The archer readied, sent an arrow her way, and Longshot snatched it right out of the air it with a leather gloved hand. He docked it, sent it back home, and the archer slouched from the watchtower and hit the ground with a thud. The whole time Smellerbee's eyes hadn't torn from the generals. The general's eyes, along with the rest of the unprepared soldiers in the barrack, went wide with shock.

"Demons," the general accused, his head whipping around to the men in furs that had slipped in the windows behind him. His soldiers, wide eyed with terror, shuffled towards him, their backs against each other's for defense. "You're demons! All of you!"

"No," Smellerbee argued. "Aki, show them what we are."

Aki stepped around the corner, his nubbed hand clutched against his chest and his sword in the other. The soldiers and the general watched him relieve himself of the heavy furs and unravel the bandages on his face. Their eyes trained to Aki's marred skin, and his eyes were gold and what hair he had left matched their own.

"Aki," one of the soldiers breathed. "You're alive."

He nodded and rewrapped his face and burdened his furs. "Our generals left me to die, along with the rest of the division. They'll do the same to you if you give them the chance."

"He came back from the dead," the general accused. "They're demons!"

"What?" another soldier piped up. "That's crazy!"

"Surrender and we won't hurt anyone," Smellerbee said, stern and unmoved.

"Don't you dare," the general snapped, whipping his head around to eye his soldiers. "What are you useless lot standing around for anyway?! Attack them!"

"But-" a soldier started, confused. "He's one of us."

"Don't defy my orders! Kill them!" he ordered. His face went hot as his soldiers kept their positions, eyeing him like he was the crazy one in all of this and not the bloodied, forest demons that came from nowhere.

"You have two options," Smellerbee said, calm and steady. "Try to kill us," she said, throwing a thumb to Longshot. "And archers like this one send every arrow they have at you. Or surrender, give us your food, and go home to your families. Or join us. Whichever you like."

"Traitors," the general spat at Smellerbee and Aki. "You're all traitors! The Fire Lord will have all of your heads!"

"I have given you your options. This man is not loyal to you. So quick to send you to your deaths. You are free to choose," she said, disregarding the general and addressing his confused soldiers. They eyed each other, thinking, and the general's head looked like it would explode at any moment.

"Living to see tomorrow sounds pretty good Ganga," a soldier said.

"What?!" the general snapped. "Cowards! All of you! Have you no loyalty to your Fire Lord?!"

"Why would we?" a man in the background asked. "We get stuck out here in the woods eating slop for breakfast while all his precious benders get to live the good life!"

"We should surrender," another suggested. "We all just want to see home one day, Ganga."

"Don't you dare! Hold your ground! Don't –" the general snarled, but the words didn't get to leave his mouth. A soldier, young and so tired already, smashed a nearby chair into the back of his head. The general fell forwards, unconscious.

Smellerbee watched the mutiny, not pleased but not unhappy with it. At least these soldiers get to see another day, just like her own. They made the smart choice.

"Now what?" one of the soldiers asked, his hands shaking with panic, unknowing what to do with himself. "We can't just go home! They'll arrest us for deserting! They'll kill us! They-"

"Yachi," another interrupted. "Ganga would have us all killed right here had we not done what we did. We are all brothers here. We will find a way."

"But what about the army? What about the Fire Lord? What about-"

"The Fire Lord sent us out here to rot in the forest while he eats caviar in the palace! You know that! They never cared about us! You shouldn't care for him!" another called.

"Yachi," Smellerbee said, and the young soldier turned to her. "We are The Freedom Fighters. You can join us is you are afraid to return. We are going to stop the war by killing the Fire Lord, so that everyone can go home one day - without fear."

The man swallowed the lump in his throat and eyed the rest of the soldiers around him, all looking about as unsure as he did. "Okay," he finally relented, as if speaking for the group. "Okay, so what now?"

"We eat," Smellerbee said, turning on her heals. "Tomorrow we move."

Longshot unclipped the shoulders to Smellerbee's armor, the same serious look on his face he always possessed. She eyed him, expressionless, and his face was a tad softer when it was just them. No one else could see it, but she could. She wondered if he could see it on her face as well.

She didn't want to take up the general's quarters. It was unfair to the others. But she had to wash this blood from herself. She had to change out of this odorous armor without seeing eyes. With the shirshu in their possession, it wasn't necessary to smell like an animal anymore.

No one here knew she was a woman besides Longshot, and she wanted it to stay that way. It was for her own safety. Her breast plate loosened, and she felt herself sigh in relief. She was growing into herself, her features becoming less boyish by the day, and it was getting harder and harder to keep up this charade. It was a good thing height was starting to be on her side. She'd grown in a quick spurt in the past few months. Hitting puberty did have its upsides.

Longshot drew a bucket of water, and the two undressed in the sanctity of the closed room, sponging the pungent blood from their skin. He was the only one she felt comfortable enough around to do such a thing. His eyes never lingered, but he didn't quickly draw them away either. She wanted it that way. He treated her with respect, like her body was just another body. Like she was just another fighter. Woman or not. And there was no other more loyal than Longshot. He was the only one she trusted to sleep nearby. She may have these deserters in numbers, but their loyalty was scattered. Just men trying to see another day. She understood that, and tried as hard as she could to meet that expectation.

Tiguaak and Ping took guard outside, warily watching the new recruits strip themselves of their armor, replacing it completely or rubbing mud into the fabric to change the color. Ping eyed Yachi, the one who spoke out before. He still looked as unsure as he did then. Pings's eyes narrowed watching him, suspicious of his motives, unsure of where his loyalty lied. It didn't have to lie with them, as long as it didn't lie with the army or the Fire Lord. Most of the men out here seemed to be under the impression that their fellow soldiers were more important, but not Yachi.

Smellerbee wrapped white linen tight around her chest and threw on the now much cleaner black shirt, and a knock came at the door. Longshot's eyes shot up.

"It's Ping," he said from outside.

"Come in," she said, now decent from her bathing.

He and Tiguaak entered and stood in the middle of the room, arms crossed and eyes still narrowed. "You should have killed that one," Ping said pointedly, looking down to the cross-legged girl on the floor.

"He's just a boy," Smellerbee answered.

"A boy that could have us all killed if he decides to run and tell," Ping retorted.

"We can't kill him because of what he might do," she said sternly.

Ping sighed and rubbed his temples. "Look, I know what you're trying to do. But this is serious."

"So am I," she said. "Three men are already dead because of us. I don't want anymore to be if we can help it."

"What if he makes a run for it?" Ping questioned. "Huh? What are we going to do?"

"Ping," Longshot cut in, authoritative and reprimanding all in one word.

Tiguaak, with kind and tired eyes, stepped forwards, almost pleading. "We don't have to kill him, but we need to do something about him. Lock him away or something."

"Since when does the watertribe condone having captives?" Smellerbee questioned. "We're the Freedom Fighters. We can't keep captives. That's the whole point. People choose us or they don't."

Ping grunted. "I think you may be putting your virtues above our safety."

"Have you forgotten why you left the Dai Li, Ping?" Smellerbee scolded. "Because of your virtues! You've seen what happens when people set them aside, and so have I! I will not become him!" she spat, the ending coming from somewhere inside her that she wasn't even aware of. She sighed and pressed her face into her hands, rubbing her temples. Longshot laid his hand on her shoulder and eyed Ping, who still looked unmoved.

"Become who?" Tiguaak asked softly.

"Our old leader," she answered, more sigh than words. "He was - misguided."

"What happened to him?" Tiguaak asked.

"Dead," Smellerbee said pointedly, raising her eyes to glare at him.

"-Oh," Tigaauk said. "I'm sorry."

"It's fine," Smellerbee said, but the words came out more wavering than she liked.

"What was his name?" Tiguaak asked.

Smellerbee sighed and rubbed her palms on the floorboards, choking back the pain bubbling in her stomach. "Jet," she said simply.

Tiguaak took pause, only having heard that name once before. But from where? He tried to remember, and Smellerbee eyed him curiously as he did.

"What – what did he look like?" he asked.

"Why?" she questioned.

"Just tell me!" he barked.

"Brown hair," Longshot answered, his eyes narrowing. "Brown eyes. Olive skin. Carried hook swords. Now, tell us why."

"He's – he's not dead," Tiguaak answered. "Or at least he wasn't. He rode in with us."

"What?" Smellerbee breathed.

"It's true," he said. "I talked to him. He had a kid with him. Said his name was Jet and that he was looking for the avatar."

"Why would he-" Smellerbee started, confused, then bubbled with anger. "You're lying!"

"Why would I?!" Tiguaak defended.

"I grieved him! I saw him die! You're lying!" she spat.

"Bee," Longshot whispered, laying his hand on her shoulder to calm her. He looked down to her, eyes welled with something she couldn't place.

"Get out, both of you!" she spat. Ping threw his hands up and exited without a word. "Okay," Tiguaak said simply. He shot her a sympathetic look before leaving too. He shut the door behind him with a soft click, and the tears welled in Smellerbee's eyes.

"He's lying," she whispered. "He has to be, Longshot."

Longshot kneeled and embraced her, the tears flowing down her reddened cheeks. "Maybe not," he said simply.

"He is, I know he is," she croaked. "Jet's dead. I know it. I grieved him, Longshot!"

"I know," he said softly, squeezing her a little tighter. "I know."