I highly recommend listening to Hannah Ellis's "Officer Down," which can be found on youtube, prior to and/or after reading.
~~oo00oo~~
Shots rang through the dark.
…
…
"Shots fired!"
…
She slammed her cruiser into drive, sirens wailing.
"Hang on, I'm on my way."
…
"10-4, Suki's en route. I'm gonna call the chief and wake him up."
…
"I'm… shot… help..."
…
"Sokka! Fuck, FUCK! Officer down, officer down! Any units listening, we've got an officer down at 1593 Richmond! Dawson, get me a medic there and hang back!"
Aang was panicking, she could hear it in his voice.
…
She pressed her foot as far down on the accelerator as it would go. The engine roared, tires squealing as she rounded a corner.
…
"Aang..."
…
"Hang in there, Sokka, we're coming for you!"
…
"…Tell Kat…tell her I'm sorry."
…
She felt her stomach drop.
…
"Suki..."
…
No…
"I'm on my way, baby, just stay with me!"
…
"I love you..."
…
No...!
"I love you too, I need you to hang on for me, baby!"
…
"You've… been the, the best… damn thing… that's ever… happened to, to me…"
…
NO!
…
His radio fell silent.
~~oo00oo~~
Suki shot up, gasping for breath, her heart hammering in her chest. The sheets had tangled around her as she thrashed. Tears had left wet tracks down her face. Her hand shot to find Sokka's, to reassure her. Cold bedding all that met her fingers. Instead of her fiancé, rubbing sleep from his eyes as he asked what was wrong, there were empty sheets. He was gone. A sob tore itself from her throat, and she hugged his pillow to her chest. It smelled of cedar, with a little bit of the sea; of him. It only made her cry harder.
~~oo00oo~~
Sokka had always loved seeing her in her Class A, said seeing her in dress blues and shining buttons, a bun protruding from her peaked cap, was like watching a goddess. He had been there for her graduation, from the same class as Katara. She hadn't even known him then, but Katara said he could barely keep his eyes off her. He always said that seeing her in dress uniform was what made him decide to become an officer himself. She could see why when she attended his graduation two years later. Her favourite version of him was still the sleepy one, drifting off on the couch against her shoulder, but Sokka in a Class A was a sight to behold.
Her own uniform hung in front of her, taunting her. There was a fine layer of dust on the shoulder pads. In a town as small as Waters, there were very few ceremonial occasions to wear them for. Weddings, like their own, which was — had been — scheduled for the spring. And funerals.
Beside hers, Sokka's second work uniform hung, ironed and waiting to be worn. It never would be. She pulled it out, sliding her thumb over the black letters of his name embroidered on the fabric. Something in her stomach settled a little lower, another part of her cracking. It felt like she should be crying, but she couldn't. The tears had run out, and all that was left was her sinking down onto their — no, her — bed, feeling herself break a little more.
~~oo00oo~~
Her hands shook on the steering wheel. Behind her, a slow parade of flashing lights escorted Sokka from the funeral to his grave. The streets were lined in sombre silence: the people of Waters paying their respect for one of their own and members of the surrounding area travelling to honour a brave man. A large flag hung from the county fire department's only ladder truck, the light breeze ruffling the fabric. Firefighters stood beside their rigs, saluting as his hearse passed.
Aang's voice crackled to life on the radio.
"Car 3."
Last call for a fallen officer was normally done by the dispatcher on duty, where they would ask the fallen officer to report one last time, before retiring them from service forever. The part-time dispatcher had relinquished the duty to Aang, who had cheerfully dispatched the three deputies for most of Suki's career. It felt fitting, that their friend, who had dispatched all three of their first shifts, would do Sokka's last. His voice had lost its cheery tone now. She could hear the pain in his voice as he called for Sokka one last time.
"Dispatch to Car 3."
Aang's voice broke. Suki felt her throat close up, and she felt Zuko put a hand on her shoulder.
"This is the final call for Officer Sokka Nagisa."
The radio was silent. Sokka's voice did not crackle to life, no sarcastic quip greeted her ears.
"Officer Sokka, this is Dispatch. You are clear to 10-42. End of duty at fourteen-hundred hours. Sokka will be remembered by this community for his years of dedicated service to the people of Waters. You were a friend to all, quick to crack a joke and pull a smile out of everyone you met."
There was a sob from Katara, audible over the radio. Aang took a shuddering breath.
"You were… you were a whirlwind of chaos and laughter, you brightened every soul you touched. For years, you joined us in protecting our community, bringing joy and happiness to its citizens. You can rest easy now, Sokka. Your family at the Waters Police Department will take the watch from here."
The radio fell silent again. One by one, sirens wailed in mourning, a parade of first responders from Waters and the surrounding areas paying tribute to one of their fallen brothers.
~~oo00oo~~
Twenty-one shots rang through the silent air, startling birds from the trees. Katara stood beside Suki, tears streaming down her cheeks and soaking into her dress blues. Chief Iroh stood on her other side, his own eyes wet, as the honour guard lowered Sokka's casket into the ground. Katara knelt and threw a handful of dirt on the silver surface. She stood up and saluted, her breaths shuddering as she cried. Suki copied Katara's example, scooping up her own handful of earth. She looked at the soil, watching the granules cling to her white glove. What could she say?
In truth, there was nothing. Nothing to say that would bring back the life they would have had ahead of them. Nothing that would make him hear the many words that would forever remain unsaid. Suki would give anything to tell him just one last time that she loved him, but her words would never reach his ears.
She had kissed him before they left for their shifts that fateful night, just a quick peck and an "I love you." How she wished for another of his passionate date-night kisses, for another night curled into his chest and listening to his soft snores.
She bit her lip, choking back a sob. Her hand trembled again, shaking the dirt still held in her gloved hand. Slowly, her hand tipped. It didn't feel like she was the one doing it, like she was outside of herself, watching her body going through the motions, involuntary and mechanical. The soil slid off her glove, falling slowly to land on top of the shiny surface. Suki stood back up, saluting as her vision blurred with tears. She stepped back into line beside the rest of her department, feeling Katara's hand slip into her own and squeeze tightly. The tears fell, and she let them. He was gone. He was truly gone, and he was never coming back.
Katara and Aang forced her to stay the night, and Hakoda accompanied them back. Zuko was with them too, and Iroh came to bring some whiskey. There were toasts in Sokka's honour. Stories and drinking. Crying and laughter. Suki didn't remember most of the day, it was all a fog of condolences and disorientation separated by moments of crystal: clear, sharp, and painful.
She remembered asking Iroh if it ever got better, if it had when he'd lost Lu Ten to the war. For once, her chief had no proverbs to give, only a sad, watery smile and a hug.
"It never gets easier. You never really move on."
He had pulled back, patting her cheek.
"You just get better at dealing with it."
And they had cried together for a long time, mourning their loss: his sons, both in blood and not; her love.
~~oo00oo~~
The door of her cruiser shut with a solid thunk. After three weeks of leave, Suki had returned for her first day back on duty. She knew that Sokka would have wanted her to get back to doing what she loved, but she still felt… uneasy. This was the first shift she had been on in two-and-a-half years where she was the only officer on patrol. With the loss of Sokka, they were down to one for mornings and one for nights, with Chief Iroh filling in where needed.
She was all alone. There would be no more flirting banter with her fiancé over the radio until Aang yelled at them, no more kisses blown as they crossed paths with each other on patrol. She wouldn't go to the department's parking lot to find love notes written in soap across her windshield, or cookies on her seat. Tears threatened, but this time she shoved them down. It was time to move on, to buckle in and do her duty to her community.
Waters was a small town, and everybody knew everyone. She hadn't quite realized how close they all were to each other until today. Mrs. Witherby flagged her down and hugged her through the window, crying into her uniform. Jake at the hardware store told her about the donation for the station they were doing. Simon told her of the many times Sokka had found him wandering down to the gas station for smokes, and how he'd always give him a lift. Haru's mum said she was going to stop by the station later and drop off a casserole, and told Suki how nice it was to see her.
It was bittersweet, patrolling the streets she came to love. Though she would never make any more happy memories here with Sokka, these people were her community, and her family. They looked after her, they made the town what it was, and so she would, too. She had a duty to her people, and she wouldn't let anything stop her. Just like Sokka had.
She couldn't let his sacrifice go to waste.
~~oo00oo~~
Special thanks to thehornedserpent here on for their help beta-reading, they made this so much more bearable to read! Your help was much appreciated, and I don't even want to know what horrors I would have posted without your insight.
This was a short, sad idea that started eating at me, until I had to put it down. I'm not sure where it came from, but the idea hit me and I just had to do it. I'd like to dedicate this story to all of our first responders who put their lives on the line each and every day, to keep us safe.
Maybe it comes from living in small towns all my life, where the police chief was your neighbour and the pastor is a fireman, I have always held a high level of respect for the wonderful people in the police officers, firefighter, and EMS that leave their families every day to protect ours.
With all the stories of people abusing their positions of trust, I wanted to remind people that good folks are still in our communities, and through all of the hate and distrust being sown in their way, they still go to work every day, risking their lives to save ours.
Respectfully, Joan McCreedy