Autumn was upon the kingdom, the beams of the afternoon sun probing her awake.
Or perhaps it was the deft movements of Meishi across her bedroom floor, disorientating the calm river of sleep she sailed down upon. Toph sat up, grumbling slightly, her hair wild and cheeks still smudged dirty from yesterday's session with the Dai Li. The bed sheets fumbled for a grasp around her slim form, crinkling the night slip she wore, pooling at her thighs and stained with her footprints. She stretched, feeling her bones crack with satisfaction, the muscles in her arms flexing, straining against her arm band. She swung herself out of the four poster bed, tentatively feeling out the earthen floor before padding over to her maid.
'Morning, Meishi,' the Commander yawned, settling down into her usual seat. She breathed in deeply, appreciating the scent of her breakfast before reaching out for the fork that lay next to her plate to attack her meal with relish, a usual occurrence.
'Actually, my lady, it's past twelve o'clock. You've missed two meetings this morning,' Meishi informed her apologetically, her fingers fluttering to a napkin, cleaning the spilled bits of egg tumbling down from Toph's fork.
Toph blew her bangs out of her eyes, increasing the speed with which she stuffed her face. 'Training ran late yesterday,' she complained through a mouthful of meat. 'I'm entitled to some extra sleep.'
Her young maid picked up a duckturtleshell brush and began combing out the tangled mess of Toph's tresses as she spoke. 'Of course you are,' she murmured placatingly, extracting a few lost pins from the disorder of her hair and twisting it into a neat bun with expertise and efficiency. 'But the Council is really very displeased, my lady, and I think it would be best if you refrained from raising their ire so often…'
Her omelet consumed, Toph grew deaf to the mutters of her well-meaning maid; she had heard it all too many times before from the entire Council that she swore she could remember their lecture by heart. She threw down her fork and raised the coffee cup to her lips, downing the inky liquid, so like Zuko's burnt tea, in one gulp. She had always joked about how she liked her men like her coffee: dark, strong and tall. How ironic, she thought wryly, the truth often was.
Zuko hadn't seemed to appreciate it as they strolled through the streets in search of a satisfying cup, perhaps realizing how close the truth hit to home. That was the day before he had returned to the Fire Nation, Iroh in tow for his monthly visit. She had accompanied him to the train station and handed him her written letter sheepishly, attempting to cover it up with her usual slouch and scowl, punching Zuko's arm with amazing accuracy when she felt the gentle pride of his voice as he praised her for moving in the right direction. He had bent down to give her a swift hug that she pretended to grimace at, promising her that they'd see each other soon, that he would ensure the letter was read by its various recipients.
And then he had boarded the train with his uncle and left. She had stood there for a long while afterwards, a solitary figure on the platform. She had watched the train pull away to the nearest Earth Kingdom dock, her arm graceful in its arc of farewell. The bustle of people with destinations to reach, journeys to complete had echoed around her as she stared wistfully into the distance. She was a lone cliff in an ocean of activity, the waves of people in motion caressing her prone body. She had always been the one to say goodbye, the one rock steady and solid in a sea of change, letting the tides mold her as she stubbornly held on. But she was going with the flow now, part of the swift waters of life, leaving her place in the dependable mud behind. She was swimming instead of sinking, gulping down the pure clean air as she surged ahead, the foam gathering in her wake, buoying her up even further. She had re-established contact with her friends, her agents were excelling in her training, and the Council had stopped treating her as an inferior, although they were still annoyed if she didn't turn up to meetings, as she invariably did.
She sighed, rolling her eyes as she realized the chatter had not ceased; sometimes, Meishi reminded her a good deal of Katara. Motherly and chiding at one end, or else all girl and giggle on the other. She stood, slipping out of her bedclothes and into the tunic and pants Meishi withdrew from her closet. A few words caught her attention; she thought back to the schedule so insensitively imposed on her, realizing with dread the occurrence of a tour around the city this afternoon. Something about 'showing the city we care'- she scowled; all pure political crap in her opinion. Though she had purpose and was highly valued in the city, it was no more befitting than her home back in Gaoling. Cutting off the young servant, she tugged at her sleeve such that it covered her arm band: 'I'll be around, Meishi. If the Council comes looking, tell them you don't know where I am, or that I'm off in the lower circle.'
She allowed herself a mischievous grin as she exited the chamber, letting her door swing shut on her maid's oncoming protests. Once the information had been extracted from Meishi, the Council would no doubt give up their search for her, disgruntled, saving their admonishments for the next time. Nobles like them did not venture beyond the inner circle, and they frowned upon those who did. She suspected that they had only lived that long due to her enormous self-restraint. She set off down the corridor quickly, prowling through the more obscure passageways and checking the ground at regular intervals. This cat-and-mouse game was enjoyable, appealing to the Runaway within her, the prize- managing to steal away from the Council's strict regime successfully. It didn't matter if she had a destination in mind, or a task to complete; the cocktail of freedom and asserting the lack of authority anyone held over her left her thirsty, far too tempting to resist.
She ran down to the royal messenger hawk station, demanding what was hers and securing it with rapidity, turning on her blackened heel to flee once more down the invisible sunlit hallways. Always, always she anticipated the letters from them, and always, always did they bring her joy and comfort, whether they came from far-off places, the palace of the Fire Nation, or the various apartments where the ambassadors resided. Tracing her thumb over the wax seal of the scroll in her hands, she noted the familiar ridges and solidified material signature to the Water Tribe. The paper was thick and official, bringing the proverbial smell of snow and ice and cold, the prelude to the deepest of white winters. This time, it was him; she knew Katara was partial to the thin papyrus sheets that were lightweight and compact, perfect for the nomadic lifestyle she now led with Aang.
Accordingly, she burst into a run, searching for the person who wrote and read her letters for her when Iroh was unavailable, or when she was just too impatient to make the trip downtown.
She could think of his name now, could speak of him without the slightest tinge of resentment or bitterness. Her heart still twinged slightly on occasion, but it was not the sharp metal razor blades that had seared her those past few years. Zuko had been right; what time had not healed, her friends had. They offered her their counsel discreetly, taking care not to offend her volatile ego and coming to stay with her in the palace for days at a time in the first few weeks. She suspected they had chided Sokka for being less than caring towards her, for his letters came frequently, like clockwork now, going on for pages at a time that it sometimes took an entire afternoon for Jin to read his letters and take down her dictated reply.
Her friends had thrown her the life jacket she had so desperately needed against the tides of her obsessive love, teaching her how to prevent it from getting the best of her, from defining who she was. She had been drowning in her own tears and sorrow, and now she was swimming with all her might, widening the distance between her and that that had nearly ruined her, an ocean and a half between them. Her friends would not let it touch her again, and they urged her on with encouraging words on paper and short, impromptu visits.
If he knew how she felt, still feels, about him, he didn't reveal it in his letters. They were casual and friendly, the voice foreign but language familiar as the pages rolled of Jin's tongue; any hidden message indicated by inflections were lost in translation. Somehow, though, they were oddly comforting; inside jokes were conveyed hesitantly by an uncertain Jin while she chortled and explained, regaling tales of their adventures to him. Reliving her childhood inevitably led to conversations about him, then life and love and everything in general, and for that short moment she imagined it was Sokka who was sitting there instead of the Dai Li agent. She would miss her best friend terribly, feeling guilty for being able to converse with someone else with such ease. She would feel a pang- she still loved him, didn't she? A sharp stitch in her side, or a sudden cramp in her calf. For an instance, the water would fill her lungs, the echoes of her love reverberating through her being. Then it would fade, and she'd smile at Jin and listen to the steady pump of his heart, reminding herself that she was here and he was not and that was all there was to it.
She found him in the library, where he spent his free time browsing the shelves and wandering the massive aisles. They often met there as a result, settling into the cozy leather chairs, unraveling the parchment across a knee-high table, his tenor quiet and lilting, spiraling up to the high ceiling of the library, penetrating the dusty eaves as extrinsic words were read aloud. She didn't pretend to fake an interest in what she could not see, but she liked the way the room smelled, of long forgotten memories and a quiet reverie. Sometimes she came here when running from her responsibilities to soak in the lonely atmosphere; on other occasions he read to her, books sprawled across the floor as they leant back into the shelves, the spines of books imprinting themselves onto her backbone.
Today she dragged him away from the books and flung him down onto the couch, settling herself down next to him, eagerly ripping the wax and unraveling the scroll. She could feel how he flushed as he caught the letter with fumbling fingers, his smile as he observed her excitement, edging slightly further away from her in embarrassment. She gave a delicate sniff; she didn't smell that bad, did she?
She shrugged and turned her thoughts to the stream of words that had poured out of Sokka's brush, flowing now from Jin as he cleared his throat in anticipation. She was still and quiet throughout the recital; Sokka's words were a melody, the paragraphs like dulcet cadences. In her mind, she was marveling at the construction of United Republic with him, coursing through the air on Appa's back, the wind whipping through her face, holding the warm bundle of Sokka's child in her arms while he looked on proudly, all in tune to the crisp consonants uttered by Jin.
The letter ended with a 'Love, Sokka', as it always did, the words platonically affectionate on paper, but rising in a wisp from Jin's lips, molded by his tongue into something sacred, something that meant. His voice was tender, the soft strain of his emotions filtering through his vocal chords. She let out a breath she didn't know she was holding, a smile playing on her lips as she mentally ran through the words once again, pretending to be absorbed in her own thoughts as she snatched a look at Jin with her toes.
Before, the letter would have weighed a hundred pounds heavy in her mind; now, it lifted her spirits, a life preserver in these dangerous waters, preventing the snagged edges of her bitter self from entangling between her legs and pulling her under. She could be friends with Sokka, if she tried- hard. She did wonder what it'd feel like to have her feelings for him disappear entirely- like an artistic masterpiece suddenly wiped blank. To be honest, would she know how to pick up the brush, taint her fingers with the brash colors of life and start anew? She couldn't, didn't dare admit the truth to herself.
As she spent more and more time with Jin, she felt the gradients of her artwork shifting ever so subtly, the special place in her heart becoming too tight and small, a geyser waiting to erupt. She noticed similarities between the two- the way they moved when they were uncomfortable, the way they held a brush, the exact temperature of their skin. Elements of Sokka lingered in Jin, her memories of him fresh and melancholy, longing and acceptance diverging to the different poles of her mind. She relished his letters; they served as a confirmation of his existence, the reality of her emotions and her own essence. They were proof that he still cared and that she was still breathing, unable to touch him but living with its consequences.
The consequences were unexpectedly uncomplicated. Jin laid the sheet out in front of him, reaching for the blank canvas of paper and a brush that lay carelessly on the table, left by an anonymous stranger. Before he could stain his brush with ink, Toph stopped him, a hand on his arm to restrain the movement.
'You know, Jin, I think I'll leave it till tomorrow. There's supposed to be a storm tonight, and anyway, there's a chance I'll get to see him at the talk next week, if nothing happens.'
The ghost of a sigh escaped her, marred by an awkward crook of her lips. Jin nodded his assent, then, spying out of the corner of his eyes, moved quickly to dodge the punch she threw him and the potential bruise that was to emerge, bending a pillar of earth between them. She gasped, offended, and leapt up, their laughter echoing off the arches and beams of the library as he too sprang up and she gave chase.
'You're getting faster,' she remarked, eventually catching up to him in the section furthest from the snooty librarian's disapproving glances. She bended his two feet into the ground with ease, encasing his hands together in a mesh of earth and pinned him up to the shelf behind him before he could blink, let alone crouch into his fighting stance.
'But not fast enough.'
Her breath was salty, hot on his face, aggressive in the whirls of clouded history in this room. She heard both their sharp intakes of breath, the heat rising in both their bodies as she realized what she had insinuated. She was sinking, her limbs immovable and heavy, the dead weight of her actions clawing at her throat. Her windpipe contracted involuntarily, refusing admission to oxygen lest she do or say something stupid once again. Her brain screamed at her to do something, and do something fast.
After an eternity, her limbs defrosted back into place, and she withdrew her hand from his rising and falling chest, the reverberations through the floor markedly different from the one's she had experienced and memorized over the years. She bit her lip; she was his Commander, and he her agent. She had acted that way out of sentimental nostalgia and youthful naivety brought on by Sokka's letter, she told herself. That was all, and nothing more.
She punched Jin's arm again, more out of covering up the awkward moment than anything. The action in itself was half-hearted. 'Thanks, for, uhm, helping me to read and write my letters. You know, all this time.'
'No problem.' They didn't move.
She forced her limbs to unkink themselves, and when she was sure she was capable of normal movement, she blew her bangs out of her eyes in faked nonchalance, spinning on her heel with a casual 'See ya later at training', inwardly wincing at the hearty comment.
She had made it halfway down the aisle before he called after her.
'Uh, Commander? Aren't you going to bend me out?'
Her footsteps stopped as she turned halfway, only her profile visible in the dimly lit room. She made to walk back to him, but stopped, the beginnings of that same wide grin crossing her face.
'You know,' she said, mocking evident in her tone as she returned to her original path, 'I don't think I will.'
She felt his panic rising, straining against his bonds. 'Don't be late for training!' she called back over her shoulder. Only when she was tucked away safely in an alcove off the North Wing did she allow herself to groan, banging her head against the wall, then let her Cheshire grin to flicker across her face as her cheeks reddened.
Later that day, as she asked Hong to check the library, she would feel his vibrations heading towards their training ground, his heart heaving with exertion as he hurried to take his standard place in line. She would feel a bubble rise in her chest, obstructing her throat as he panted out an apology, realizing that she had felt those movements from halfway across the palace. And now out of the two dozen agents, his heart was the sound a stone made when diving into the water, its ripples flashing out strong and sure to her. The sudden change in amplitude would frighten her, her surroundings foreign yet familiar at the same time, her toes dipping once again into a pool of uncertainty.
And even later that day after a confused dinner, she would make her way to the library, sitting down at the same table to compose her reply to Sokka herself, the strokes clumsy and ink splashing unceremoniously onto her front, if only to escape the thudding sound in her own chest. She would clutch at the scroll with stained fingers as she stole to the cote, coaxing a hawk onto her arm as she scrabbled at the tube on its back. The grass beneath her feet would be slick with rain, the mud edging between her toes, and she would not care that her hair and tunic were drenched with the tears of the storm.
The rain would calm and soothe her, allowing her vision to tunnel and blur, numbing what she had felt so starkly. She would turn her face upwards, grateful for the escape the heavens brought. It would be cold and wet but breathtaking, and surely she wake tomorrow with chills, but the steady beat of rain on her moonlit skin, the darkness pressing in on her made her forget, plunging her into the deep. It would be a welcome claustrophobia, with her in silence underwater, solitary, the sky and sun and her complicated emotions hazy from ripples, a pinprick in the distance above.
Toph would raise her arm and watch her heart take off, and fly.
A/N: K first off, guys, thank you so very much for all the reviews, story alerts, etc. given to this fic!11!~* Yes, I am a happy writer. ^_^
On to the story: I'm not entirely satisfied with this, but it's the best I could do to fulfill my goals, which was to develop Toph and Jin's interactions, and her newfound resolve.
I know a couple of you are pining for some Tokka and Toph/Sokka/Zuko action, but I'm afraid that will have to wait till future chapters! I don't know where this story is headed myself, although I do wanna insert some adventure somewhere. Just keep in mind the genre is Aangst. *winks deliberately*
So yeah, a lot of you have critiqued about how Toph wouldn't pine for Sokka for so long, or that she's not the girl we saw in the canon series. Personally, I do feel Toph would pine, because she's stubborn and resistant, and letting go is just not in her nature. Even now, with her friends' help, she still loves Sokka even if it's not eating her up anymore. Add the general confusion of Jin (see above), and she just becomes puzzled and plain confused, because if what she feels for Sokka is love, could what she feels for Jin be valid, and if it was valid why the hell did she spend all that time torturing herself? /ramble So yes, that's what she's kind of feeling in the last few paragraphs.
Also, I really hope Jin isn't a Gary Stu :S I didn't give him much dialogue, but I hoped his personality traits could be gleamed from the narrative... Yeah let me know if I did a good/adequate/HORRIBLE job.
Okay, I've got exams for the next month (till the 1st of December), so I guess I won't be posting any more chapters till then. I'll write, but inconsistently. :( Wish me luck, and I hope you all enjoyed this particular chapter. xx
+ Chapter inspired greatly by Swimming by Florence + the Machine. Play it while reading the chapter, and you'll get the vibe I was trying to recreate.
Please R&R! Critiques, ideas, what you (dis)liked, etc. are all welcome with wide arms~