Within the peaceful trees of his forest, hidden by the darkness of the absent moon, lay restless memories. Memories that fueled the anger of them all, frightened most and disheartened some. The kind of memories he wished he cold whisk away with calming words, promise that everything would be alright, that it was just a dream. But that would be a lie and do a disservice to them all, so every night amidst the darkness of his forest, the memories resurfaced.

In his forest, the rule was survive, hurt what hurt you, live another day. In his forest, no firebender could escape his brand of justice. However, in his forest, no one could escape their past.

The first time it happened, Jet had woken silently, drenched in cold sweat. The dream itself was not concerning, the burning bodies of his parents only fueled his hatred, gave him a reason to fight. What was concerning was the timing of the dream. It was the first dream he'd had since he decided he would fight, the first since he started his quest for revenge. He'd taken the lack of dreams to mean he was in the right, to mean he was doing what his family wished, avenging those who could no longer avenge themselves. Just shake it off, he told himself. No cause for concern.

The second time it happened was two nights from the first. The day after the first dream, Jet had worked himself to exhaustion, taking no chances. The night after that had been his turn for watch, so no dreams then. Once again, Jet had shaken it off. It must've been something he ate or something. It wasn't like he was the only one having nightmares.

The third time it happened, Jet had sat up in bed, one sword clenched tightly in his hand, prepared to wipe that smile off the no good butt-wiping hog-monkey for good. It just so happened that he was not alone at that time.

It was nothing short of a miracle (and the unfortunate way in which he'd tangled himself up in his sheets) that he didn't lung at Sneers and rip his face off since the firebender had been denied to him. Sneers merely smirked at his sweat-drenched leader, arms crossed over his chest, sitting a safe distance away as if he hadn't a care in the world. "Something troublin' you, boss?" Sneers asked, scratching his head, sounding unconcerned.

Jet lowered his sword, letting it drop to the ground noisily, clattering against the wood. What in blazes was Sneers doing here? "I—" He started, about to demand just that, in his best leader voice, but it failed him, dissolving into nothing more than a rasp. Jet sighed, bringing his knees up to his bare chest, still tangled in the sheets (not that he cared anymore). Out of all his Freedom Fighters, Sneers was the only one who didn't expect him to be leader-like all the time. Or even at all. Sneers had a way of making Jet feel small, something he didn't appreciate. Jet supposed he should be thankful to some spirit somewhere that Sneers listened at all. "Don't you have watch or something?" Jet grumbled, pinching the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. Spirits, he wished he had something to chew on.

"Nope." Sneers said unhelpfully. Judging from the lack of sound, Sneers hadn't moved. "But if you'd rather, I could always go and git Longshot. He's on watch right now, but he'd be a far sight more compassionate than I am in this situation."

"Don't bother Longshot." Jet said automatically. That boy was a natural born scout. If it wasn't for the dratted human need to sleep, Jet would've had him on watch every night. …Wait a minute. Jet lowered his hand, peering through the darkness at Sneers. "What makes you think I want compassion? I'm fine." He informed his Freedom Fighter, narrowing his eyes at the suggestion of weakness.

Sneers laughed softly, the definition of unhelpful. If Jet felt like going through the indignity of untangling himself, he would have throttled him. Which he very well might do, any second now. "Well, this here's a novel situation for you, boss." Spirits, he hated when Sneers took that tone, and Sneers obviously knew that. Sneers was of the school that everyone needed to be put in their place every so often, otherwise known as the school of annoy the hell out of Jet. The boy leaned forwards, smirking at him, to which Jet only glared back. "You ever had a nightmare, boss?"

Startled out of his glare, Jet lapsed into confused silence. "What the… Yes, of course I have!"

"Shh, boss. Don't want to wake the little 'uns."

Jet glared at Sneers, willing the boy to either make sense or leave. If Sneers wasn't such a good fighter, Jet was sure he would have kicked him out by now. Boy loved to drive him insane. "What I mean to say, is," Sneers said, as if sensing his leader's rising temper. "You've been awfully jumpy lately, sir." Sneers said, putting emphasis on the last word. "You've been snappish and about fifty times more demanding. Truth be told, it's starting to annoy, boss."

"Yeah, I annoy you." Jet growled, eyes never leaving Sneers. The boy obviously had a point, would he just get on with it already?

Sneers smirked, standing up so he could look down at Jet. Jet glared right back up, not about to stand up (because with the sheets the way they were, he'd be sure to fall over and lose all respectability) trying to will Sneers to get on with it. The boy crossed his arms over his chest, moving much too slowly for Jet, obviously enjoying himself. "Look, if nightmares are what's getting to you, don't let 'em." Sneers said, sounding suddenly serious.

"Yeah, thanks, Doc. I feel much better now." Was that it?

Judging from how Sneers' smirk disappeared and his arms uncrossed, he wasn't done. "Aren't you the one who's always saying that this is why we fight?" Sneers snapped, smartly staying out of range. "Huh? Well, from your mouth to your ears, boss. Can't let an itty-bitty nightmare bother the big-bad Jet, now can we?" Sneers leaned down, so he was eye to eye with Jet (but, darn it all, still out of range). "If I have to save your sorry butt because you're off in lala land, I'm not going to be pleased. So shape up, boss, or I might just have to beat some sense into that brain."

Jet was more shocked at Sneers' words than angered. Sneers had a point, it wasn't safe to dwell on the past in combat, but that was his reason for fighting and… Hadn't Sneers said that? Groaning, Jet pinched the bridge of his nose again. Great, so all Sneers had done was compound his headache and made it that much more unlikely that he'd get back to sleep. He was too tired and confused to make Sneers pay for it now, it could wait until the morning.

Laying back, glaring up at the ceiling that had really done nothing to him, Jet prepared to pick apart what just happened in lieu of sleep. Sneers was punishment for something, of that Jet was certain. What had he done to deserve all the word games, the confusing arguments? Why, oh why, did the spirits love to torment him?

Maybe if Sneers had fetched Longshot, Jet would still feel somewhat sane.

Sneers is an interesting character (to my mind) because he gets a name but no lines. He is potrayed as one of the main Freedom Fighters, and that's pretty much it. So, I took creative liberty with his characterization and added my desire to drive Jet insane while trapped. His name is Sneers, so he must not be a very nice guy. And there must be one Freedom Fighter Jet can't stand.