A/N:
Once again, sorry about the late chapter, but here it is! I hope you all enjoy it, and I thank you all for your patience.Chapter 2
Singe, a Family Man:
I feel the cloth of the chair rustle uncomfortably underneath me as I push myself farther into it. My legs dangle happily over the arms, kicking back and forth with a level of idleness at the surroundings and the situation, almost of their own accord. I feel my gaze shift reflexively as the door slams open, filling me with a sudden wariness; when I see the bulbous, sweaty form of Todhe waddle in, the smirk on my face widens. It takes a minute for him to fit his massive girth into his already overlarge officious chair; he squeezes himself behind his desk and produces a silken white handkerchief, only to ruin it by wiping the grease off of his forehead.
"Don't sit like that in my chair," he begins, blustering and breathing heavily, "You're in my nice downtown office, not some bar or slum."
My smile widens as I readjust the spectacles that dangle off of my nose.
"You aren't hitting the right targets. My boss is getting a teensy bit peeved," I say brightly. His frown deepens, likening his physical appearance even more to that of a frog.
"Your boss. Not mine," he fires back, "I told him that I would hit his targets. I didn't say I'd only hit those targets."
I'm not entirely sure I like his tone. And it's not just the croaking dampness of his voice that irritates me. I pull one of the throwing knives from my bandoleer with an air of boredom, bracing it on top of my fingers and flipping it idly. The blade catches the sunlight and fires it into Todhe's eyes as it smoothly glides between the digits, causing him to squint and pull away. I know its impressive to slobs like Todhe, but this little trick is really just a way to amuse myself.
"What is this, a threat?" he asks aggressively, somehow leaning forward in his chair, "Are you threatening me with that little thing?"
I laugh, allowing the sounds to bubble chaotically from my throat and echo across the room as I stare at him. I can taste his fear. It floats through the air, heavy and thick, coating me in its cowardly fervor like a sweet cream. I can also see his hand drifting under the desk, and I know that it is gripping the handle of a small crossbow, tensed and ready to whip it into the daylight and end my life.
Scenarios start in my head: rapid alleviations of boredom, snappish moments of violence and intrigue. I can feel the knife warm in my hands at the idea of it disappearing into him, his facial features folding and condensing into a physical embodiment of his already prevalent terror. Could he whip the crossbow around before I fling the knife into his throat? Of course not. Could he get it pointed at me before I jump the table and stab him personally? Now that sounds like a fun question to answer. But, alas, I have my orders, and my boss has always supplied me with plenty of fun. Hate to ruin a good thing.
"Threaten you, Todhe?" I ask, my good humor pulsing through my voice, "No fun in that. No fun at all. Killing you would be like stabbing a lump of dough, and how is that exciting? I'll tell you: it isn't!" With that the knife flies from my outstretched hand, singing a sweet melody as it suddenly reappears in the wood of Todhe's desk, centimeters from the arm that currently clutches the weapon. I begin to laugh again, sitting forward and clapping my hands excitedly. The sweat has begun to thicken on his face; it dribbles down his nose and splashes against the expensive wood of his furniture.
"No, Todhe, I'm just the sheepish little messenger kid, repeating what I've been told," I explain, reclining further into his chair, "And I've been told that you're not hitting the right targets. Like maybe you should start focusing on the list he gave you. Like maybe soon."
"Damn it, don't you dare threaten me!" he blusters, somehow finding his manhood through the folds of decadence that coat his body, "I started the Family. I created it, I've maintained it, and damn it, I am the Family! This organization works for me, not your little boss. I took his little job for the money and for no other reason, and I will do it when I am good and ready. You remember that you have been assigned to work for me, and you will behave like I tell you to. And you can tell your little boss that his targets are next up on my list."
"Sheesh I'm bored," I sigh, rubbing a hand through my shaggy hair. I can feel my body begin to shake with the need to act, to do something, and I realize I can't sit in this stupid little chair for another second. "Fine, fine," I say, "Just start 'em. Start 'em quick."
Sokka of the Water Tribe:
"Are we almost there?" I ask as my arms come up behind my head. Passers-by continue to gawk at me, their curious gazes almost always drifting from my face to the blade slung over my shoulder, and I feel myself growing uncomfortable.
"Oh yeah, he's real close," Toph replies. Her pale hand drifts up to her nose, pulling and scratching at a particularly large speck of dust that's made its home there. I smile a little bit at her little wrinkled up face, scrunched with effort at her little activity.
"What are you staring at, Snoozles?" she asks stoically, as she pries the particle off and flicks it away, "You see something funny?"
"Just your face," I answer, semi-truthfully. My smile widens at my little witticism, but Toph doesn't seem to find it so funny. Her balled fist flies out of nowhere, catching my upper-arm and contributing to the permanent bruise that's been there since we've been a couple. I rub it tenderly as we approach our destination.
"He's in there," she says suddenly, causing me to stop and look. Pangs of confusion echo through me as I stare upwards at the building she is pointing at.
"This is it?" I ask, astonished.
The building is cobbled together with shabby brick of the same drab gray color that permeates this area of town. His wooden sign looks like it may have once been ornate and nice, but the forces of time and weather have ravaged it, fading the once bright green paint to a dull olive; the only way I can make out "The Dragon of the West" kanji is because the letters are elevated up and off of the wood. The tea must be amazing for this dumpy little place to have the reputation that it does.
"Looks fine to me," she adds grumpily, eliciting a sour look from me.
A pretty little hostess pulls the doors open as we approach, flashing a pleasant smile that goes very well with the vibrant red clothing she is adorned in.
"Table for two?" she asks, her voice dripping with work-related sweetness, "Or would you like to sit at the bar?"
I smile unsurely at her, put off by the obviously fake sugar that is laced into her every action, as I think up a response. Toph predictably cuts me off.
"Where's Zuko working?" she asks bluntly. The gruffness of her small voice mixes with the girl's artificial sweetness like salt with sugar, and my amusement becomes a bit more natural.
"Oh, he's always at the bar," she explains, as she pulls two menus from underneath her station. Her feet seem to glide against the floor as she leads us to the bar, located at the center of the restaurant. It's apparently a slow time of day; the seats surrounding it are sparsely populated by mostly worn looking workers, off of their shifts.
The stool rustles underneath me as I plop down, gliding my hand over the impossibly smooth black marble of the bar and glancing back and forth for any sign of him. The bar top squeaks underneath me, the thick finish protesting the oils of my skin, which mixes with the squeal of Toph's stool as she struggles to get her short frame atop it. Eventually she succeeds, planting her calloused and filthy foot atop the polished wood and scooting the little stool forwards. A plume of dust announces her success, though she seems not take notice; I do, and wave my hand furiously to bat away at the smoky cloud that flows in my direction.
"Where is he?" she asks, grabbing a hold of my arm and pulling it closer to her. I feel her body heat through the skin, which seems to translate into a furious blush that permeates my face. Somehow, I manage to glance around, and then, he appears.
He's cradling a stack of white porcelain teapots, focusing intently on the swaying, precarious pile. His balancing act proves successful as he eases them onto the bar, the ceramic squealing angrily as it is introduced to the new marble medium. He brushes long hair out of his face, exposing the tortured tissue of his left eye, and I begin to feel pangs of nostalgia. He looks the exact same as he did seven years ago, youthful, but harrowed. I smile to myself.
He approaches us, but his gaze is thoroughly focused upon a teapot; his back is doubled over as he inspects it, wafting the steam that pulses from the spout into his nostrils, breathing in the flavor and examining it. As he continues this process, the stoic expression, "What can I get you two?" comes from his lips.
I open my mouth to announce our presence, but, before I can, Toph exclaims "Gimme a cup of your darkest."
A broad, coy smile crosses my features as I realize what she is doing, and I play along. "I'll take some Jade with cream and honey." My hand comes up to rub her shoulder, but she brushes it lightly aside.
"Jade with cream and honey?" she asks incredulously, "Jeez, do you want him to tuck you into bed and read you a story, too? Let's get a cup of dreams and sunshine for Princess here."
My grin transforms into a bitter frown as she smirks, her impish little grin pushing up her cheeks and giving her a distinctly young look. I open my mouth to say something vicious in response, but before I can, I hear a familiar deep and scratchy voice.
"Sokka? Toph?"
My fervor is jerked from me as I turn and face him: I feel a rush of nostalgic joy as I see the bright smile of surprise that crosses across his face, culminated by an expression of joy and happiness that I've never seen in him. I take it back, he looks more youthful now than he did when I first met him.
His arms extend into a warm hug, reaching across the bar and insistently grabbing both of our shoulders; I almost pull away, more startled at the way in which his demeanor has changed then the imminent awkward hug. I feel the warmth of his breath as he brings us in, and the coarseness of his deep crimson shirt as he releases us, and I smile.
A bartender suddenly appears behind him, garbed in the characteristic black apron and crimson uniform, with a curious smile upon his face. Zuko suddenly whirls around to face him, clutching the ceramic teapot.
"Hey, Jubei, would you take over the bar for me?" he asks, forcing the pot into the man's outstretched hands. He glances up at the pair of us, his eyes flicking to the sword on my back, then to Zuko as a smile of comprehension decorates his face.
"Oh yeah, sure thing boss!" he says, clapping Zuko on the back, "It's slow around here anyways."
He leads us to a private room in the back, ornately decorated in the pale green of the Earth Kingdom and lacquered with complicated wooden designs. A table sits in the middle made of a dark polished wood; the chairs whisper noisily against the carpeted floor as we pull them out to sit on them. He places the three small cups lightly onto the tablecloth and immediately begins pouring tea into them, perfuming the air with the smoky scent of the steam and filling it with the rising tone of liquid dribbling into the little ceramics. Despite myself, I'm impressed with the grace in which this task is accomplished: not a drop is spilled upon the tablecloth or swilled over the side of the cups.
"You've really gotten into this," I say lightly, peering intently upon the deep brown liquid pooled in my cup. Toph reaches forward stoically and rips the cup from the table, bringing it to her lips and downing it in a gulp. I look over at her, waiting for the heat to burn her tongue, but to my surprise, she just smiles.
"Not bad, Zuko. Not bad at all," she says nonchalantly. Zuko smiles shyly as he reaches forward and picks up two small bowls of cream, and honey respectively. He carefully ladles the pure white milk into the tea, stirring it lightly until the cloud of white within it lightens the deep brown into a color a bit closer to my skin's.
"Some honey. For Princess," he smirks, as the tongue of golden honey oozes slowly into the cup. A burst of laughter suddenly jumps from Toph's mouth, as her hand flies into my permanently injured shoulder.
"This guy understands me!" she belts loudly, earning a glower from me. I cough loudly, leaning back into my chair as I begin to change the subject.
"So how has the little shop been treating you? You know, you're a hard man to find. I don't think we would have found you had we not heard the name of this place," I say, taking a sip. The tea is cool and sweet as it dribbles down my throat, the leaves placing a distinctive flavor, but not one that is overpowering. Toph was right: Zuko is good at this.
"Yeah, the shop has been doing really well," he admits happily, running a hand through his hair, "Even with the crummy state of things, business has been up: good enough for me to keep my prices low. How about you guys? I heard that you were staying at the Palace, working as Enforcers for the Council. That's really something. I remember the Council. Some of those people are...difficult to get along with."
"Oh, yeah," Toph says with a grin, "We've been working with Councilman Tsung, trying to get him elected, but its tough. Out of the twenty members, he's really only got support from two others."
"Councilmen Farzu and Lo Dai," he says with a smile, "I've heard. I remember Tsung. He's a good guy. My uncle liked him a lot. He'll be a good Fire Lord."
"Yeah, we think so," I reply. Ok, the talk's gotten political. It's time to try and ask him. "Course, the real problem isn't the other Councilmen, it's the Family. They've been hitting all the right places to make sure that others in the Council are too scared to give Tsung any support, and keeping the raids suppressed has been really difficult. Plus, with the economy the way it is, people have flocked to support them."
Zuko stops drinking to look across the table at me, his expression suddenly wary, as if he knows where the conversation is heading; his eyes widen almost imperceptibly, causing the deep amber irises to pierce through me and pin me to the chair. I swallow a little bit as he speaks again.
"Do you know whose running it yet?" he asks coolly, setting the cup back onto the table.
"We're pretty sure its Todhe," Toph answers, digging a finger into her ear and scratching furiously, "You know, the business guy whose seemingly rich for no reason. But we've got no proof."
"Right," Zuko replies, "What are you two going to do? Do you have a plan?"
"Well," I begin, leaning forward and placing my elbows upon the table. Time to dive in. "We were wondering, to be honest, if you'd reconsider becoming the Fire Lord. I know you decided against it...but the thing is, you're a war hero. People love you, and the Council would have no choice but to elect you. You could bring some stability back here, and make things better."
He sighs, leaning backwards and allowing his head to sink down into a propped up hand. The familiar wariness returns to his features as he turns away from us, staring obliquely at the wooden carvings that adorn the walls, seemingly far, far away. I feel a tint of guilt begin in my stomach as I wait for the answer, allowing myself to take a glimpse at Toph. Her face is as staunch and unreadable as ever, but I see her toes curl up against the stone, exposing a glint of sadness that mirrors my own. We both hate to ask him this.
Suddenly, he looks back at the both of us, and allows his chair to glide forward, resting fully upon its four legs. His gaze is melancholy and distant, closer to the old Zuko than perhaps I care to return to, and I realize what he is going to say even before he says it.
"Is that the only reason you both came to see me?" he asks.
"Of course not," Toph says staunchly, her voice filled with the confidence of truth, "We've been looking for you for a long time, and not because of this. But times are desperate, and we thought it would be worth a shot." I look respectfully at my powerful little girlfriend, staring out into nothingness but emitting an air of authority and fortitude that permeates the entire room. She sure doesn't talk much, but when she does, its concise and to the point.
Zuko seems to accept this, as he starts to nod, and returns his gaze to the table. "Guys, I'm sorry. I don't know what to tell you, other than I just don't have the heart for it anymore," he says sadly, but firmly, his voice carrying the authority it's always had. "I'd just be a quick fix, like a bandage, and things would drop to how they are now, but more permanently. It's a bad idea, for both me and you."
"I know, and I know it isn't fair of us to ask you this," I admit, forcing more tea into my mouth to avoid looking at him, "But, like Toph said, we figured it was worth a shot."
"I'm sorry I can't help you," he admits, and the conversation ends. A silence drenched with awkwardness makes the room feel heavy around us, weighing down our brains as we attempt to figure out rational, well-thought-out things to say. My tongue begins to feel thick and leaden in my mouth; I glance over at Toph, but she merely stares obliquely into nothingness, giving no sign whatsoever that she registers the difficult situation. I watch Zuko's eyes pour back and forth over the room before the simplest, most dreadful banality worms its way from between my lips.
"So..." I begin, "Did you ever find the Palace to be a bit much? I mean, all the finery and space in our room always makes me feel a little out of place."
He glances up at me, the broken silence bringing out a motif of gratefulness that culminates into a small smile.
"Yeah, you know, I used to feel tha..."
His mouth stops in the middle of the short "a" sound, dangling open obliquely as his eyes widen, fixing us under a spray of solid amber. His gaze flits back and forth sporadically between me and Toph, who begins to shift uncomfortably in her chair. Her feet slide across the floor, prying a dull scraping noise from the heavy green carpet.
"What?" she demands, seemingly catching on before I do, "What's the matter?"
"'Our' room?" he repeats. A rude and wary index finger exposes itself from his relaxed hand, gesturing furtively between us as he begins to phrase his next sentence. "You two...you two aren't...together...are you?"
I can feel the muscles of my jaw lose all feeling, forcing my idiotic expression to match his one of confounded stupor. I become entirely unable to react as a furious heat begins in my cheeks and spreads to the rest of my face. Fortunately, Toph, as always, has a blunt answer tailor-made for the situation.
"Oh yeah," she responds easily, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world, "For about three years. Why?"
The corner of his mouth begins to spasm, twisting upward and downward at an astonishing rate. I watch intently, worrying that we have somehow broken him, before his chin begins to follow suit, the skin pressing against the bone with a seizure-like fervor. I lean forward as concern begins to etch its way into my flesh.
"Are you ok?" I ask dumbly.
A sudden falsetto twitter cracks explosively from his open mouth, causing me to jump with shock. It rebounds violently across the room, doubling my concern as my brows furrow intensely. I've never seen anything like this from him before, and I'm not sure what to make of it. More high-pitched bubbles fire from his throat as a hand clamps furiously against his mouth. Maybe he's choking?
I hear a short grunt from Toph: her signature signal of irritation, and I suddenly realize what's going on before she can even announce it.
"Are you done?" she asks, her voice sour with primed annoyance. He doubles over and the noises fly out, bursting forth with the intensity of a shattered dam. I feel my confusion slowly dissipate as the volume of his chirrups increases; he rocks back and forth, cradling himself as his face degenerates into violent seizures.
He's laughing.
"You're laughing," comes out of my mouth.
Slim dribbles of salt tears begin to well up at the corner of his eyes, jarred into existence by the extreme intensity of his giggling. "Oh...oh spirits!" he forces out, thrust between fits of mirth, "How...how have you not killed each other yet?" The fits redouble in intensity, apparently causing his abdominal muscles to give out, as his body slumps loosely against the table. Ok, I am officially irritated.
"What? Why is that funny?" I ask, more than a little indignant, "Jeez, Zuko, I didn't even know you could laugh."
Now that causes the fits to finally begin to subside. He rapidly begins breathing again, replacing the bubbling chirrups with loud and rampant hyperventilation. His expression slowly regains its familiar stoicism, stenciled on with the precision of an architect's blueprint.
"What? I can laugh," he insists, glancing between us. His voice has returned to its trademark deep and gravelly baritone, but rings with the slight tone of hurt feelings. "Why can't I laugh?"
"Because you're Zuko," Toph answers matter-of factly, kicking her chair off of the ground and balancing it on two legs, "I'm pretty sure that's the first time I've ever heard you laugh. Seriously, I can't think of another time."
"Yeah," I agree, before spitting out, "and why'd it have to be at us?"
Another smile crosses his features as he opens his mouth to speak, but he is interrupted by the loud squeak of the door handle swinging open. All eyes (minus Toph's) swivel in their heads to stare at the newly opened door, as the figure of a slim, pretty girl enters the room.
A sudden wave of surprise attacks me, beginning in my lower gut and extending up into my throat; I know this girl. I feel Toph's hand grip the cloth of my shirt tightly, further proving her presence somewhere in my memory. My gaze stays upon her in a manner that I'm sure must be very rude as I try to decipher who she could possibly be.
She crosses the room gracefully, her feet dancing across the floor with an upper-class sashay as she approaches Zuko.
"I'm not interrupting anything, am I?" she asks. Her voice is singsong and her speech patterns are distinctively noble and well-educated. "The play is going to start soon. You promised you'd go with me!"
"I know, and I will," Zuko says sheepishly. I feel one curious eyebrow shoot up into the folds of my forehead as she leans down elegantly to kiss him, sending a soft, wet noise across the room.
"Wait, waitaminute!" I blurt caustically, drawing the couple's eyes directly upon me.
"You're Xiang! Farzu's daughter!" Toph all but yells, drawing out her index finger in an accusatory point at the pair, as though revealing some incriminating evidence. She's right! We've met her before, just outside of the Palace! I feel the pressures of a headache pound from the inside of my skull as I piece the scene together. Toph let's out a caustic "Ha!" as she slaps her left hand against her knee, enticing a baleful glare from the scarred Fire Nation warrior.
"Yes. So I am," she admits, utterly nonplussed, "And you two are Toph and Sokka, Zuko's old friends. Did you not know that we were together?"
"No!" Toph blurts out, "How long has this been going on?"
Zuko opens his mouth to speak, but is cut off by a quick answer from Xiang. "About three years. I can't believe you didn't know about this!"
"Lady Farzu, we only just found out that he still lived in the Capital!" I retort, as my jaw hangs agape, swiveling back and forth as if the nerves have died, "This is incredible!"
The raspy whisper of a shy laugh flows from Zuko's mouth as he grins in acquiescence. "Umm, thanks, I guess," he adds, the words laced with bashfulness, "And I hate to interrupt the reunion, but I did promise her that I would go see the new play at the theater. You know it's about Aang?"
I let out a smile and begin a reply, but a sudden chiming echoes from the distance, breaking through the walls and forcing its way into our ears. My eyes widen in sudden fear as I realize that it is the Six O'Clock Bell, being tolled precisely on the dot. I manage a look at Toph immediately before she announces what it is that we're both thinking.
"The Council meeting! We're late!"
My eyes take in Zuko as we hurry to our feet, the images fully entering my mind nearly for the first time. The distinctive clothing of a tea salesman, loose and tucked in behind the elbows, vibrant crimson and white. The clean, pure white porcelain tea set that he lovingly and tenderly picks up from the table. The long, unkempt hair, the easy smile, and the loose and relaxed shoulders, but what strikes my gaze most of all are his eyes. Gone is the fury, the turbulent, violent anger that set fire to his golden amber eyes, the irises that seemed to focus his face into the center of a cyclone. These are the eyes of a happy man: soft, bright and yellow, still the center of his features, but now bestowing a feeling of utter placidity in me. It gushes up through my spine and into the back of my throat, culminating in a wide, contented grin.
His hand extends forward, and I take it.
"You two are always welcome in my shop," he says kindly.
Toph Bei Fong:
"Well, how'd it go?" I ask bluntly. The shuffling of feet and the soft whisper of robes pulse through the ground and into my feet, cluing me in as the Councilman Tsung turns around to face me. I feel his muscles tinge, prying his contemplative frown into a warm smile that is only belied by the lonesome rhythm of his heartbeat.
The pattering of Sokka's quickened steps and the catastrophic clatter of his sword pry my attention to him, sprinting (in his own gimp way) through the doorway, and into the room. He offers a hasty bow, accentuated by his panting breaths and the dribbles of sweat that drop hastily to the floor. Despite myself, I smirk.
"Well?" he asks, peering up towards the Councilman, "Any good news?"
Tsung's smile becomes more natural; I wonder to myself why it is that Sokka's awkward clumsiness always seems to have that effect on people.
"Well," Tsung begins, "Potential good news is all I have, I'm afraid. Councilman Derxu is still violently opposed to my campaign, and he still holds a considerable amount of sway. However, Ambassadors from the Earth Kingdom are due to arrive in about an hour, and I feel that if we can make an admirable impression upon them, we may win more support from the Council." His voice is deep and full, but fatigued, overflowing with the weight of a troubled, climactic life.
Councilman Tsung was an army brat, the son of a minor Fire Nation Corporal and his wife. He grew up with very little money, and eventually joined the Army, more as a matter of necessity than national pride. However, through his ability with numbers, he rose through the ranks and was eventually named Quartermaster General. His shrewdness eventually proved to work in the political arena as well as the martial one, and he became a Councilman.
We've known him for about a year, and he seems like the clear choice for the new Fire Lord. He's smart and stern, but fair and kind, as well: someone who will have the strength to pry the economy out of the hole it's in, but be good enough to earn the love of the people. Course, I don't know or care much about politics, but that's what Sokka and Aang say, so I'll stick to it.
"Ambassadors?" Sokka asks. I feel the skin of his inner elbow crinkle as he brings his hand to his face, and I know that he is stroking his ridiculous little beard, "This could be good... Or bad. What do you think, Tsung?"
"Well," he begins, "He said no, didn't he?" Our nods greet his words, and I can feel his facial features soften slightly, perhaps in disappointment, or perhaps in understanding. I can't tell.
"I've lived a life of turmoil and war," he begins, turning away from us and facing the window, "I've seen death and destruction on a grand scale, and I feel a sense of pride in the fact that, when I could, I stood up against it. For what was right. But that man, the young, scarred Firebender, has seen and been through more than I and all the other Councilmen combined. If anyone, anyone at all, has earned the right to enjoy a peaceful life free from the political and martial turmoil of running this country, it is him. That is what I think, and that is what Iroh thought, before the end. No one can withstand that much suffering and trepidation without serious repercussions upon the soul, and I will not infringe upon his right to lead an uneventful life. Nor will any other, while I stand in power. As it is, Sokka, and Toph, I think this is for the best."
Jeez. These old men and their speeches. I feel the sting of bile rising in the back of my throat at the ocean of sappiness that just dribbled out of his mouth.
"Yeah, right," I hear myself say, "Well, as long as you're ok with it. But me and Sokka need to go and prepare for the Ambassadors, plus we've still got to go meet with the other Enforcers. Got to keep that Family down, after all."
A warm and jovial smile crosses his worn, wrinkled features, carried by the vibrations of the shuffling wind into my feet. "Absolutely," Tsung replies, turning to face us, "It is vital, for all our sakes, that the Family's activity is minimized during the visit of our friends from the Earth Kingdom. I'll meet you later, at the Palace gates when they arrive."
Sokka nods at a rapid place, clearly eager to please, and manages another short, abrupt bow before his warm, calloused hand glides smoothly into mine and he pulls me across the floor and out of the room. I feel a burst of heat build up behind my cheeks as his fingers lace in between mine, transmitting his body heat and filling my head with the powerful image of him: his heartbeat, his muscle movement, the blood flowing through his veins. Course, I fill my face with an angry scowl at the way in which he's jerked me away. Wouldn't want him to get the right impression, after all.
"Let go of me, stupid!" I mutter, reluctantly prying my hand from his, and folding my arms, "I can walk by myself. You're the one whose crippled."
He lets out a small sigh, and I know that the idiot is rolling his eyes, but it's accompanied by a small, unconscious smile, so I let it go. His pace is hurried, measured out by the broken rhythm of his gait, and the pride and dignity that straightens his back and elevates his chin. Despite myself, I feel a little rush of warmth and love that spikes up into my throat. Zuko's not the only one whose been through a lot, and Sokka deserves the pride that he feels. Course, once again, I'd never tell him that. Pride he deserves, but his ego is already far too big, and I'd hate to stroke it for him.
The sudden flutter of feet to our right draws my attention away from Sokka and into the adjacent hallway. Familiar heartbeats own the pair of feet that glide towards us; the footfalls of one are light and speedy, almost like that of a gymnast, while the other's are unhurried and shuffling, carrying a transparent air of boredom. Sudden realization flies through me like a hurricane.
"Ooh, it's you!" a light, airy voice coos across the room, carried by the unmistakable, lithe body of our former opponent. "I haven't seen you in forever!" She rushes ahead of her companion, speeding immediately by me and bringing her flighty attention upon the suddenly nervous form of Sokka, whose heartbeat increases significantly. I feel the scowl begin in my eyes and quickly spread its way across my entire face, clenching each muscle almost involuntarily as it makes its way down.
"Uh, hi Ty Lee," Sokka says nervously, leaning away from her as she quickly violates his personal space, "Hi, Mai. Are you two the other Enforcers we were supposed to meet?"
Mai's walk does not speed up as she slithers towards us, unmotivated and untroubled. "Yeah. It's us. I didn't know you two were the others. That's mildly interesting," she says, though the tone and inflections of her voice beg to differ. Just feeling her slow, uncaring heartbeat in my feet inspires a boredom and lethargy that eats away at my energy, pulling me down and depressing me at an alarming rate.
"I just love your new soul patch!" Ty Lee declares, ignoring the conversation going on around her. Suddenly, and without warning, her hand glides up into my boyfriend's chin, caressing the hair of his idiotic little beard as she leans much closer than I am even slightly comfortable with her doing. The cat-like growl bursts out of my throat unconsciously as a cold, fierce rage sends heat to my face, mirroring the nervous and uncomfortable blush that decorates Sokka's. My foot is in the air and slamming downward before I even realize it, spreading through the veins of marble that decorate the Palace floor and sending a pillar of ornate, overly polished stone underneath her tiny little feet. She flies up, carried by the vengeful fury of my Earthbending, before, somehow, landing adroitly; the whooshing noises of wind that reach my ears during the feat reveal the artful flips she surely executes, which only serve to deepen my anger.
"Uhh... I'm kinda involved with Toph," Sokka stammers dumbly as the floor reforms into its previous flat self. He scratches his head in a manner that is utterly unsatisfactory to me as Ty Lee's gaze flicks between us, clearly attempting to register this new information.
"What?" she asks dumbly. I note with some satisfaction that her voice has lost a bit of its flutter. "You two? You two aren't...together...are you? That can't be!"
"Can and is, Princess," sputters moodily from my mouth. The way her arms drape loosely at her sides sends a rush of angry pleasure up my spine as Mai turns her head towards us. A short snort, the pathetic attempt at laughter pried from the nostrils of someone who is utterly bored with life in general, sends vibrations that echo dramatically across the halls.
"Now that is interesting," she says in her distinctively slow drawl, "Maybe you aren't as boring as I thought." Both Sokka and I open our mouths to reply, but we are quickly silenced by a raised hand on her part.
"No, shut up, let's not start," she declares, leaning against the wall, "We have some business to do, and I don't want to waste time with reunions or bickering. You two concentrate your efforts on keeping the Family suppressed here in the center of the city, and Ty Lee and I will keep the problems to a minimum in the outer areas, ok? Is that all? Are we done here?"
I mimic her pose, leaning up against the solid stone of the wall, and folding my arms moodily underneath me. Sokka's mouth opens, accompanied by an index finger raised to gesticulate a point, but he falters, clearly unable to come up with any witty retort. Instead, the hand falls loosely to his side and he says "Uhh, yeah. I guess so," with an air of defeat.
"Good," Mai responds, and with that, she turns on her heal and begins walking back in the direction from whence she came. Ty Lee plods behind her loyally, turning her obnoxious head around to catch one last glimpse of us as they disappear further into the ornate gloom of the palace. I feel her voice echo across the hall as she exclaims "Every time, every time, without fail! Every time I see him, he's with someone! Unbelievable!"
I think I'm going to hate her.
The open courtyard by the south entrance to the Palace can be described in one word: massive. The solid iron walls, with their ridiculous height emphasize the overall largeness of the palace grounds, shrubbed in occasional greenery that spurts out every now and again between the blocks of well-kept stone. It's impossible not to feel small while standing in it, and as I feel the ridiculous enormity of the thirty-foot iron doors that stand closed before us, I can't help but understand. I shuffle my feet idly as we wait for the Ambassadors' arrival, which will supposedly occur at any moment; Sokka fills the feeling of smallness in the only way he knows: by talking.
"Why do they always laugh?" he asks.
"What?" I ask irritably, echoing the grumpiness that I feel at his too-close encounter with Ty Lee.
"They're always surprised," he explains, ignoring the tone of my voice, "When they find out we're together, I mean. Why is that?"
I let out an exasperated huff; the heat from my own breath tickles my nose as it escapes into the atmosphere. "I blame you, Meathead," I respond, "People are shocked I can tolerate you being so dumb. And it doesn't help when you flirt with big-boobed floozies."
I feel his eyes widen in a mix of shock and incredulity; a small spark of satisfaction begins in my stomach at the rise I've gotten out of him.
"How could you possibly know that she has-"
"Because you just told me, stupid," I retort, not even bothering to listen to the rest of his question. His eyes narrow as he becomes more and more flustered, accentuating his bristling hair as he attempts to find his voice and riposte.
"Ok, first of all," he begins, his voice high-pitched and indignant, "I wasn't flirting! For someone who can supposedly feel out people so well, you apparently have the perception of a retarded baby moose-lion! And second of all, I'm pretty sure that they can't believe that I can put up with you! You're this bundled up ball of violence and grumpiness, who solves everything with the all the finesse of a caveman!"
"You wanna see a bundled up ball of violence, Snoozles?" I spit back at him, shifting my feet dangerously against the dusty stone, "Because I can show you! Just say that one more time!"
He opens his mouth to attack again, but the sudden creaking of the overlarge gate grips our attention. It slowly swings open, revealing the caravan of servants that surround the ambassadors; the procession moves forward to meet us, sending out a multitude of vibrations that reveal the scene. I feel the men lower the palanquin to the ground, feel the sudden contact of wood on stone, and I turn staunchly to begin the formal introduction.
Two pairs of shoes lower from the cushioned luxury of the palanquin to press against the ground; two pairs of heartbeats, echoing out against the...
Wait.
I recognize these heartbeats.
The muscles between my eyes tighten as my mind races furiously, struggling to place the enigmatic beats. Both are dignified and erudite; each step exudes an aura of aristocracy that washes over the ground like waves crashing against stone, immersing us in their nobility more and more with every passing second. They are so familiar: the heartbeats and movements echo across the back of my mind like a long-passed memory, strung together by association but almost from a different lifetime.
Different lifetime...
No.
Oh no.
It couldn't be.
Sokka's hand tightens painfully upon my shoulder as comprehension dawns on him, proving beyond a shadow of a doubt the arrival of my worst nightmare. I can feel smiles upon their faces, a man, and a woman.
"...Mom? Dad?"
A/N: Alright, after all the trouble of yesterweek, it's all here! I sure hope it was worth the wait, haha. I guess one thing I really want to communicate here is about my reasons for changing Zuko so drastically. Basically, I want him happy, and the moment in the series that I found him to be the happies was in season 2, right before he and Iroh were summoned to the castle. There, he was serving tea, and had some moments of peace and tranquility that resulted in smiles and brightness. I guess that's what I was trying to capture here, but please, let me know if you think it works!
I had a lot of fun writing Mai and Ty Lee into the story here. I love their characters from the show (careful not to leave me any spoilers, I haven't seen anything past the Day of Black Sun, and I hear they feature prominently in the Boiling Rock!) and writing them made me smile a bit.
Enter the Bei Fongs! Yes, you thought right, the Ambassadors from the Earth Kingdom are none other than Mr. and Mrs. Bei Fong! I really love these little twists, and I sure hope it works well for y'all!
For those of you who liked him, yes, Jiro the Mouse will return later on, so don't worry! For those of you who didn't, sorry! And yes, Singe and Todhe are going to show up later. I would really like to talk about Singe, but I can't, because I don't want to spoil anything about him.
Special thanks again to Lord Esquire, my Beta, whose done an absolutely phenomenal job helping me with all of this, and a double thanks for all of you who waited for Chapter 2! The story's just starting, and I'm optimistic about where its going to go. Keep reading!
Superbleh11