"Suki. Can I talk to you for a minute?"
It's not entirely a surprise to turn and see Aang standing behind her, shifting from foot to foot in an uneasy manner she's seen on him more lately than she ever did before. He's not one for shyness – at least, not that she's ever witnessed – but the constant diplomacy seems to be doing a number even on him, and he's been watching her cagily for a few days now, to the point where she would have asked him outright what's been bothering him – almost did it yesterday, in fact – had Katara not caught her eye and given her a warning look.
(She backed down immediately. Suki has always considered herself a brave person, but there are limits.)
So it's a bit of a relief to finally be approached. Suki doesn't do well with uncertainty, and she'd always rather be direct than not. "Sure, Aang," she says, reaching down – no, over; when did he get so tall? – and clapping him on the shoulder. "What's up?"
"Can we" – He hesitates, looking over at where Sokka and Katara have their heads together in the corner of the room, "discussing" fiercely in that way only the two of them can, and then jerks his head towards the door.
"Sure." She follows him out, a little worry nagging at the curiosity now. "Is it – is something up with one of them?" It would make sense if he wanted to talk to her about Sokka, but surely there are better choices if something's going on with Katara. She takes a moment to run their other friends through her head – Toph, Zuko, Mai – and then revises that opinion. "Do you need girl advice or something?"
"What? No – no, Katara's fine. Great. She's great." He smiles for the first time, rubbing bashfully at the back of his head. "That's not – it's something else. I was wondering if you'd do me a favor."
"Of course." Though she has to wonder what kind of a favor demands a private request, especially if it doesn't have to do with Sokka or Katara. Maybe she shouldn't be so quick to promise anything. "Well, if I can. What kind of favor?"
"I was wondering" – He glances around, as if making sure they won't be overheard, leans closer to her, and blurts, "Would you chi-block me?"
That – was not what she was expecting.
As a rule, Suki tries not to be taken off guard. Also as a rule, since she became friends with the Avatar, it happens to her at least once a week anyway.
"Chi-block you?" she says, a little too loud, then drops her voice when Aang's eyes widen. "I mean – why?"
He shrugs. "It's never happened to me before," he says, avoiding her eyes. "I guess – it'd be good to know what it feels like, right?"
Good to know what it feels like. She frowns, and then it comes to her all at once – why Aang is being so weird about this, and why this particular request when, as far as she knows, he's never asked to have especially painful things done to him before just out of curiosity.
"This is about Ozai, isn't it?" she says.
Aang sighs. "I keep dreaming about him," he whispers. "I – I know there was no other option, and I wouldn't make a different choice if I could go back there, but – it only feels right, you know? To know how it feels not to have bending, even just for a few hours?"
For a moment, Suki is catapulted right back to the night before they left to fight those devastating final battles, the night before Aang mysteriously disappeared, when they were trying to convince him that a homicidal maniac needed to be killed and Aang was so insistent that he couldn't take a life, never, not even under these most drastic of circumstances. For just this one moment she's right back in that same complicated mess of emotions – frustration, pity, and the tiniest hint (though she doesn't like to admit it) of disgust – that thought: this kid is too empathetic for his own good.
And maybe it's true. But she's gotten to know Aang better in the last few months than she did then – has gotten to know him in a different and constantly-changing world, and to see how much he's made for peace, so much more than for war. She's seen him listen to people, from world leaders to military generals to angry citizens, she wouldn't have given the time of day – has watched him really listen to them, think through their disputes, and – usually – find a way to work through them that, while not perfect, is better than anyone else without his patience could manage.
She's also seen him lose his patience, has seen the stunned silence of even world leaders when yelled into submission by a furious Avatar, and has noticed that nothing makes Aang angrier than a lack of compassion.
Too empathetic for his own good, she thinks now, but maybe not for the good of the world.
But all the same –
"I can't chi-block you, Aang," she says. Probably not as gently as she should, but she's trying, okay? She's trying.
His face falls. "Why not?" He glances around them, cagey again. "Did Katara get to you?"
Suki can't help but laugh. "Not yet." It strikes her to wonder, though. "Did she okay this?"
"Well – no," he admits. "She kind of doesn't know I'm asking you this."
She must at least suspect, though – no wonder she looked at Suki like that yesterday. "Well, I'm definitely not risking this without her permission." It would be tempting to leave it at that, but honesty compels her to confess the real reason. "But more importantly, I'm just – I'm not good enough at it yet to try this on a friend who's a bender." It burns to admit that, but she's not going to take her chances with Aang's safety. "I'd do it to someone I was fighting for real, but I don't want to risk actually hurting you. I think Katara would actually kill me if I did, permission or no." And I don't think I could live with myself anyway, she doesn't add. She's watched this kid launch devastating attacks with all four elements and stand in the center of a glowing beam of energy delivering judgment, but she still can't imagine turning against him in real violence, especially not with the intention to hurt. And chi-blocking does hurt, more than most attacks Suki has experienced. "Ty Lee is the best; you should ask her."
"Yeah, I guess so, I just" – He hesitates, and it's enough for Suki to understand. Ty Lee was an enemy for a long time – even she feels it sometimes; even with Ty Lee all decked out in the Kyoshi warrior attire that means she's a friend, Suki sometimes can't help remembering the moment Ty Lee stood over her, dressed in her clothes, complimenting her makeup even as she tried to copy it on her own face. Sweet, bubbly, and utterly uncaring that Suki and her girls lay in burned, bruised heaps unable to fight back, fearing for their lives. They're friends now, yes, but – there's still that edge of reluctance, that unwillingness to make herself vulnerable.
Which means, she realizes now, that Aang trusts her with that.
The swell of warmth in her chest at that thought surprises her. Aang trusts her. Of course he does; she's known it for a long time now, but – they're not close, not like she is with Sokka or even Toph. He would trust her with his life but he's never told her his secrets – until now. Now he stands in front of her, confessing a fear and asking her to let him make himself vulnerable to her.
To her surprise, it's hard not to reach out and embrace him right there.
"I understand," she says gently. "Well – look. I meant what I said; I'm not ready to take that risk with your safety. But I'll keep practicing, and I'll let you know when I'm ready, if you haven't found anyone else in the meantime." Or given up the idea, she doesn't say. Part of her wishes he would, but Aang isn't the sort to leave something alone once he has an idea in his head. "Does that sound okay?"
"Really?" He looks up – over – at her with round eyes full of hope, and she almost chokes on a surge of emotion. He should not look so hopeful at the promise of violence, of violation – because that's what chi-blocking is, really, and it means so much that he'd trust her to do it to him even as she can't help wishing he didn't feel the need at all –
"Really," she says, and she can't help it – she reaches out and roughs him forward into a half-hug. "But only if you make Katara promise not to hurt me for it."
He swallows, but laughs. "Fine," he says. "That'll be my project, then."
"Good," says Suki. "A promise for a promise." There's no hair for her to ruffle, but she gives him another squeeze and lets go. "Then I guess we should get to work."
He gives her a bow as he pulls away – she can't tell if it's cheeky or respectful – before scampering back into the room, looking lighter and more relieved than he has all week.
She's never wanted a brother before, and as she watches him go, she suddenly finds herself wondering why.