A/N: Well, here it is! The climax, and second to last chapter of Redemption! I hope you all enjoy, but before you begin, I have a major apology to extend to the three of you that reviewed the last chapter! It's no secret to those of you who have left reviews that I make it a point to reply to each and every one that I get to express my gratitude, but for whatever reason, every time I have tried to both review-reply and send out a PM, Windows has been giving me an error message and shutting down Internet Explorer. I have no idea why (though if some of you are more technically capable then I am, I would love to hear your opinions on the subject), but I feel terrible about having submitted no replies to your outstanding reviews of the last chapter. So, I'll leave little abridged ones here!
To Bluetiger: Your review was as insightful and well-thought-out as ever, and though it serves no point to discuss the validity of your speculation (since it's all about to be answered right here, haha) thanks a lot for posting the review, and thanks a lot for the awesome compliments you left! I worked really really hard on the last chapter, and I'm thrilled it went over so well for you!
To Leaving-My-Mark: as has been the way with all your reviews, your perception of the situation as it stands is utterly flawless! I really appreciate your validation of my hard-work, and I'm glad that my taking on the characters has been so in-sync with the show for you! I sure hope that this chapter continues to do so!
To Sifu-Toph: Oh, wow... Haha I don't think I've ever been left a compliment that touching before! I am incredibly moved that my story managed to inspire you in your writing! I would absolutely love it if you would tell me which story it is, so that I could read it!
Anyways, I'm also sorry that this chapter took so long, but it was a very potent chapter for me to write, and I struggled with how I wanted to convey a lot of it. I didn't want to post something that I wasn't completely happy with, so here it is! The big climax of Redemption! I hope you all enjoy!
Disclaimer: I own nothing that could get me pulled into court!
Jiro, the Mouse:
I watch, my mouth agape, as the man walks towards us. Even though his compatriots stands twenty-five yards away, I can see the protests written into their eyes; the shorter one reaches forward as if to catch his shoulder as he moves to his certain death.
"No!"
The screams come from beside me, reverberating through my skull with the force and power of fear and grief. Unable to avoid it, I glance beside me, watching her face as her glazed eyes stare unseeingly. Tears stream down her pale, smooth cheeks, glistening brightly in the golden morning sun. Her chest heaves up and down as she builds the strength to scream again; the lashes and ropes crinkle violently as she struggles futilely against them, throwing her weight forwards and backwards. There's a prayer for freedom held in her, leaking a spiritual cry for help that I can feel deep in the center of my chest.
The ferocity of the man's gaze: the incredible oceanic determination that he holds as he walks forward is incredible, awe-inspiring, unmanning. Powerful emotions swirl within my gut, unnameable in their multitude and their potency, nearly ripping the strength from my limbs as I struggle to stand.
Xu summons a guard to stand before him. The blue-eyed warrior kneels.
"You know what you must say," Xu whispers, the sound only just reaching my ears, "Diverge from it, or make it unconvincing, and I will kill her."
He swallows.
"My name is Sokka, from the Southern Water Tribe," he begins, closing his eyes. Silence suddenly captures the courtyard, as even the singsong bleating of birds seems to dissipate in the awe of the incredible moment. "I... I have done terrible things for the Council. In the dead of night, I butchered unprepared and barely armed men in their homes. I did this because I wasn't capable of fighting the Family on fair terms. I flouted both lawful and human rights, murdering any that I suspected of even having any connection with the Family..."
"It's a lie! Stop it! Run, run for your life! Please!"
I can't hear anymore. The words drown out into nothingness amidst a curious roaring in my ears. My stomach tosses and turns, my head is on fire, my muscles tremble and shake with conflict, yet suddenly, my mind becomes clear.
For the first time, the world makes itself known to me, and I understand.
The blue-eyed warrior seems oddly distant amidst the shimmer of steel bathed in the gilded morning. Even though I am beyond hearing, beyond capable of understanding what he is saying, I see his life written into his face, and I am able to fathom what he is.
No one helps him. They stand, watching in awe as he not only sacrifices his life, but his name, condemning himself to vilification in the unforgiving eyes of history. The girl he loves struggles against her bonds, willing herself free, praying to prevent him from doing what he is about to.
And that, is heroism. Sacrifice. His life will end, his name spat upon forever, but he will not compromise his love for the girl. He does this because it is good, because it will save the life of someone pure.
I clench my eyes shut as tightly as I can, trying to force the memory of my failure from my eyes. She pleaded with me to do the same, but I am not a hero. I am a coward, a fool who hid behind the threats of others to protect myself from understanding my own failings. Memories of the past week stream through my head, pictures, places, people, and I realize that in not a single one of them, have I been truly alive.
He kneels before an uncaring crowd as Xu conjures words of silver and gold that poisons the minds around us. I see hatred written into their faces as they copy what I've done. I see the essences of them, pointing fingers at the Water Tribe hero, suddenly able to locate a source, whether real or imagined, that they can blame for their poverty. Stress and fear transform into hate and contempt, and they bathe him in it.
But he doesn't flinch.
Tears dribble down my face, splashing wetly upon the ground before me. The conflicting emotions suddenly merge, flowing into each other and becoming something clear, and tangible. Regret washes over me, shame rips through my veins, but before me lies opportunity.
I ease behind the cart, glancing furtively at the eyes focused firmly upon the kneeling warrior. Even as I slip from behind the crowd, easing between heavy iron breastplates and flimsy clothes bearing the Black Hand of the Family, I see no opposition. The knife appears in my hands, glinting as the sun's rays kiss it, slipping nicely back into my sleeve as I silently disappear behind the girl's prone figure.
A barrage of knots accost my vision; leather banded into leather, tightly bound and hooked. I stare into the sea of brown, searching my memory, struggling to remember how I watched the soldiers lash her to the odd cart. My eyes appraise the thick straps of leather that loop between the wooden splints, following them as they meet the knots twisted behind her back.
If what they told me is right, she gets around her blindness by "feeling" the vibrations that pulse through the ground through her feet. So freeing her isn't enough, if we're to escape unharmed; I have to get the wooden splints off of her as well. I remember the soldier who bound her, hand and foot, pointing out a 'failsafe' knot, that if sawed apart, would simultaneously free her from both the cart and the wooden splints lashed to her hands and feet.
Fear begins to return to me, as I realize what I am about to do. Even if this works, and she is freed and can get us to the Enforcers on the other side of the Courtyard, she'll only have a fraction of a second with which to feel out the scene and guide us. I can only pray that she is as good of an Earthbender as the Loyalists feared she was.
The fear begins to turn to panic, clogging my throat and making it impossible to breathe. I nearly choke as I try to push through it, the glimmers of tears forming in the corners of my eye, but I manage to push it into my chest, where I can hold it and manage it. I force my arm forward, almost against my own will, pressing the blade of the knife into a strand of corded leather. I can feel the grittiness of my teeth as they clench and slide against each other, my head pounds, my palms sweat.
I begin to saw.
The lashings emit a lethal whisper that floats through the air, deafeningly loud to my terrified ears. I glance forward and around me, watching the faces of the soldiers, catching nothing but the glint of metal and hair as their focus is drawn totally upon the scene before them. The blue-eyed warrior continues to speak, but I can tell from the desperation of the girl's cries before me that I don't have much longer.
The first length of leather snaps, and floats dreamily to the ground.
She suddenly stiffens, the previously violent rocking motion of the cart dissipating into blaring sudden nothingness. My heart stops as I wait for someone to turn around, jostling the girl roughly in an attempt to replace the sudden lack of noise.
"Keep struggling!" I breathe, the words seething through my teeth, "You're almost free. We can save his life."
She nods, almost imperceptibly, but to my paranoia-heightened senses, she may as well be throwing her head up and down. The struggling she makes is more rhythmic now, the crackling of the rope bleating out an odd beat that I saw to. She screams for good measure, but the passion is gone from her voice, just the falsetto whine of a crying girl. I pray that the noise sounds enough like defeat to keep the ordered soldiers in formation.
I watch the split in the thick leather binding grow in length, the excess tendrils of brown, craggy material folding over on itself as I press the knife as hard as I can into the binding. My thumb, pressing upon the dull edge of the blade, screams out in pain as it sinks deeper and deeper, slowly, inexorably moving through the length.
Suddenly, almost without warning, it falls free, and everything happens at once.
There is a thunderous clatter of wood, metal, and stone as the girl drops out of the cart to the ground. The noise spreads throughout the crowd, stopping words in the throats of the onlookers and in the blue-eyed warrior as the girl steps out of the wooden bindings. Her hand wraps around mine.
"Hold on!" she says.I do as she asks, squeezing her hand as she pulls me forward. Panic transcends into terror as I hear the clatter of armor and a high-pitched shriek on the part of Xu as weapons are gripped and readied. I see the storm of faces, the flood of armored men pushing towards us, but even as I prepare to run, I feel the road squirm and writhe underneath me. It becomes alive, gripping me in a shockingly warm embrace of wet earth and cobblestone as it swirls around the form of the girl and rockets us forward. An incredible gritty roar of earthen fury drowns out the cries and noise that flows around us; I grip her hand more tightly, clinging for dear life as we are slung across the scene.
My eyes suddenly grab a hold of the blue-eyed warrior, still miraculously on his knees. He feels so far away, yet what I see him do seems to go in slow motion. I see the grimace of the soldier standing over him as he levels his spear. I see the hero throw himself to the side, rolling to his feet as the point misses him and scrapes against the ground. I see a violent glint of steel as a knife emerges from the warrior's boot, appearing in his hand. I see the streak of crimson spray across the ground as he flies to his feet and jams it point-first into the exposed throat of the soldier. And then, we are there, and he grabs my outstretched hand.
Somehow, the warrior manages to pry himself his feet, despite a heavily bandaged left hand trailing behind him, using the momentum of the curve to regain his feet. I mirror the movement, standing beside him on a thundering platform of road as it slings around and makes for the Enforcers' side of the Courtyard.
A sudden glimmer of teeth sprays across my vision, ripping my gaze away from the warrior and towards the crowd of soldiers who fly after us. Singe's face catches my eye, and I see that the glimmer of teeth comes not from a smile, so predictably written across his features, but a scowl of pure hate and malice, the jaws clenched together, the eyebrows furrowed. It looks freakish and demonic against his bleary swollen features, and as a small blade of steel appears in his hand, I know what is to happen before it does.
"I don't understand!" he screams, and the blade disappears into the air.
I stand in front of the girl, struggling to push the blue-eyed warrior out of the way, but my weak, scrawny body only manages to cover him somewhat as the explosive throwing dagger approaches. My gaze is suddenly filled with blue sky, hovering incredibly over the image of the girl Earthbending. Her clothes flutter violently in the wind, swirling behind her as dust plumes dance to an unknown rhythm at her side. She is beautiful.
I hear a violent crack behind me, and all I am is pain. Awful stinging and burning wells up in the small of my back, in my shoulder, in my left arm, in the base of my knee, in the back of my right hand: a wet, violent flame burns through my veins. My arms and hands suddenly feel heavy and fuzzy, the odd feeling of pins and needles lightly pressing against my skin stretching up and down their length, and I realize that I can no longer close my fist around the hand of the Earthbending girl.
I watch her and the warrior disappear into the crowd of Enforcers, the beautiful blue sky and gilded morning sun reaching gently over the warm brown skyline of the city. My home peaks out at me as I fall against the cobblestone pavement, the ground no longer warm and alive, but cold and dead. A smile of accomplishment floats to my face as I look back at what I came from, see the furious eyes of my former comrades, the hurried form of Xu as he disappears into an alley at the edge of the Courtyard.
Singe's horrible, demonic grimace seems to leer over me as he escorts Xu out of the Courtyard. His eyes are dead, no longer filled with childish malice or the need for violence, the amber irises glittering dully and thickly against the harsh light. His hair flows violently in the wind, and I see his mouth move, reading the words in my head as I lay back and bask in the sunshine.
"I don't understand..."
Toph Bei Fong:
The world feels so intensely vivid, so bright and alive under the sudden emergence of deafening vibrations that I have trouble concentrating. Over a day of sensory deprivation has left my feet feeling muddled and weak, yet I can feel the pulsations of the world in my teeth, face and hands, barely keeping my perception afloat.
I feel the pop of the exploding dagger deep within my ears, rebounding through my skull and threatening to overwhelm me. What is worse is that I can feel the embedded shrapnel in the body of my savior, feel the sudden weakness of his heart as he lightly floats from behind me as though upon a cloud, resting easily against the earthen pavement. I grit my teeth, clenching inwardly against the sudden mix of desperation, anger, and relief as I wheel myself and Sokka around to the front lines of our Enforcers. The boy's heart beats slowly, but rhythmically; alone in the middle of the courtyard, resting easily between two opposing forces with violent intent.
I struggle to find words, the sudden weight of my Earthbending feeling crushing as I manage to wrestle the ground in front of me, allowing the ruptured earth to flow back into itself as it rests both me and Sokka easily against the ground. I manage to hear his footsteps pulse against the ground as he limps off of the residual gritty dirt and stone, springing forward in his awkward way as he screams at our Enforcers.
"Go! Save him! Charge!"
Then, the world is awash with vibration: feet pound against the ground, steely armor clangs noisily against itself, weapons arc and bend through the air as they are swung about, voices of victory and pain herald over the din. The courtyard becomes so achingly clear: so bright and alive, that I wish I could dim my senses to match my recent relief.
I want to stop. I want to fall down to my knees and thank the Spirits for Sokka's safety, for the chance we've been given back. I want to take the time to allow the tears to fall down my face, to allow the bright warmth of the sun to soak into my skin, to allow the beautiful embrace of the deep, refreshingly cold earth to clutch me to its chest.
But I won't.
Instead, the bed of Earth becomes a weapon, the silent sentience of the element vibrant with my intentions, nodding in quiet acquiescence as I use my tiny, frail body to coax the power into the world. A surge of elation cruises through my stomach as the solid cobblestone underneath suddenly wriggles and squirms into life, stretching and pulsing as I shift my feet against the cloudy ground.
Then, I move.
A melee of chaos and violence erupts in the center of the Courtyard, surrounding the fragile image of the wounded boy, wrapped tightly around himself. Oddly, his heartbeat does not quicken, pulsing not with fear but with an odd form of contentment, and I fear for him. I let the Earth bend and squirm into a violent wave, hurling me towards the action as I grit my teeth and clench my tired muscles in preparation.
A sudden stab of relief and love strengthens within me as I feel the injured form of Sokka slam his wounded shoulder into a crowd of Loyalists, bowling them over as he reaches the boy, sprawled out amidst the rippling death. His body screams in pain, but he reaches forward, scooping the skinny, frail boy into his arms and pushing out of the deadly brawl.
I arc into the air, elated at having the chance as I push my foot forward, letting the momentum whirl me into the Otter stance. The lithe agility it offers provides precision and simplicity; chunks of stone and earth erupt from the living ground into my control as I shift my weight, tracing my shoulders back and stretching my arm forward. I can feel the hatred and confusion rippling through the Earth from the heartbeats of the Loyalists; the intensity of their rage guides my hands and guides the death that comes from them.
The screaming and crackling of human flesh is punctured briefly by the sharp, meaty thud of rock slamming into armor. There are no screams of pain, no death throws as the man-sized boulders rip into them, warping their hardened steel armor and shattering the structured flesh beneath it. Three men collapse as the Otter stretches her claws into them, shearing a hole into the semi-formed lines of battle; Loyalists throw themselves away from the sudden carnage, fleeing deeper into the courtyard as they attempt to form defensive lines.
They have us outnumbered. I can feel that, and I know that our eighteen Enforcers statistically shouldn't have any chance against the remaining thirty or so Loyalists, but I don't care. I'll crush as many of them as are willing to fight, and let Sokka tell me when we should retreat and how I should attack.
The air is suddenly crackling with fire and heat as both the Loyalists and the Enforcers fill the air with their bending. Mai and Ty Lee form up behind a four-man squad of Firebenders, shouting orders over the din of flame as they push forward, struggling to get the human-weapons closer to the scattered Loyalists. The enemy's lack of order and discipline suddenly takes a toll on them as they lose their advantage of numbers, frail and prone in their half-formed groups.
My perception suddenly grabs a hold of two forms silently disappearing into back alleys. I recognize the conniving heartbeat of the man who spoke to Sokka mixed with the more erratic heartbeat of the knife thrower. Their cowardice sends ripples of rage through my stomach, my muscles clenching and unclenching as they attempt to dissipate the energy, but as I begin to move, ready to bring the Earth to life around them, a sudden din to my left rips my attention back to the present.
I hear the crackle of the flame before I feel it, and I throw myself backwards in anticipation as the heat touches my face, coaxing beads of sweat from my skin as I slide backwards. My left foot catches me as I whirl around, feeling the shouts and footsteps of four charging Loyalists clatter through my feet and into my chest. Otter slips into Lotus as I allow more increments of power to sneak into my veins; I lose some accuracy and precision this way, but I get a lot more bang for my buck, and as the anger pumps through my veins, that's what I want.
All it takes is my foot scraping lightly against the ground for flecks of pebbles and grit to become lethal, skittering furiously across the ground and peppering the first charging Loyalist with a series of violent pops. His armor cracks and snaps, and his heartbeat deadens and sputters into nothingness as the flecks of debris rip through him, pulling all the feeling from his limbs as he collapses haphazardly to the ground.
The remaining three almost simultaneously unleash a barrage of flame, tracing their hands through the air as the fire that rips through their hearts sprays from their open palms. Flame ripples through the air, and though I can't feel where it is, I know where the Firebenders are aiming, which is all I need.
The Earth saves me, firmly grasping my feet and wrenching me upwards. It floats me gracefully through the air, tossing me around the lethal bursts of heat and back into the safety of the ground. They wheel themselves around to counter my movement, but even as the thoughts of where to aim are slipping into their heads, the Lotus is ripping chunks of vicious Earth from the living road and cascading it downwards. The movement starts deep in my calves as I pull myself upwards, stretching my arms into the air as my tiny momentum warps and controls the whirling rock. A monstrous claw shreds the ground underneath the prone benders, reaching out of the abyss and tearing into them. As it closes, it disintegrates into a vicious rain of death and violence. They don't even have time to scream as the hail rips into them, the weight of the clattering road dragging them inexorably downward until they are buried beneath the shale remains of the breath of the Earth.
I sneer away any sense of pity that flares in my chest, devoid of it since I heard Sokka confess to things he hadn't done. But then, a presence pops up in my senses, deep and reticent, yet oddly close by. Amidst the streaks of heat bathing the Courtyard, blossoming against the ground, a particular series of blasts feels... different. It's more refined, condensed; the fire exudes control, the heat held deeply inside and only let through with the expressly taciturn motions of the wielder. And as I trace the blasts back to their origin, a quickened heartbeat rife with pain and turmoil greets me, pumping blood through countless wounds as he somehow manages to Firebend into ranks of Loyalists.
My jaw drops in shock as realization strikes me. It's Zuko!
The battle has begun to wane, the scattered Loyalists fleeing into the streets as littered corpses choke the ground, but a fresh fury pumps through my veins. I make my way towards him, struggling through a suddenly muddy Earthbending sense as he turns to snake his way back through the crowd. All this is his fault! His blind rage nearly killed Sokka! Focus drives me, pressing my aching feet against the gritty cobblestone as I make my way around the surviving Enforcers and fleeing passers-by to get to him.
But a weak flutter stops me dead, even as his form stretches further and further away. It starts from by the fountain in the East end of the Courtyard; a small, almost insignificant vibration amidst the violent swell of post-battle heartbeats and flight, softly tracing its mark into the ground despite the way in which it slowly drowns.
I feel Sokka kneel down beside it, cradling the source in his good arm as he gazes into its eyes.
My feet stop, almost of their own accord, the cooled rage dripping from me as an odd emotion I cannot define bathes my chest as though it were cold, refreshing water.
Sokka, of the Water Tribe:
He seems so frail, so thin and weak that I struggle to believe that he was ever capable of supporting himself upright to walk. Amber eyes, glistening with an odd combination of sadness and happiness pierce my own, reaching deeply within my soul as my hand snakes behind his filthy, matted hair to hold his head up. He smiles at me, the muscles of his face shaking with effort as it appears. He isn't a day older than I was when I met Aang for the first time.
"You... you're alive!" he says, the voice filled with youthful clarity as the smile begins to fade, "Thank... thank the spirits. You..."
"Shh," I say softly, kneeling beside him as I prop him up against the fountain, "Don't talk. Save your strength. You have to make it, kid!"
He laughs, the sound choked and wet as it sputters from his lips. As his chest convulses with the effort, I see a small stream of blood leaking from his back, far darker than the pools that leak around him. As I see my reflection in it's deep blackness, the awful comprehension reaches into my stomach. His liver has been pierced. There's no saving him.
"I'm... am... I gonna... make it?" he asks, the smile still written upon his taunt, smooth skin, defying the glimmering sadness that paints his eyes. The words are choked as he speaks around the wound, holding the blood that swirls in his lungs and stomach beneath his esophagus with all the might he can summon.
Tears spring to my eyes, hot and wet as they flow freely down my cheeks. Despite how hard I try, I can't stop it, and as I silently weep over the body of the dying boy, my chest convulses in pain. He watches me, and sympathetic tears glisten in his eyes. The sun pokes through the water of the fountain, sending sparkling freckles of light that catch and dance within the wet sparks of his irises. He looks like a painting: years and years of expression painstakingly brought to life on canvas, reflecting the pride in humanity of the artist.
"I'll burn then...." he says sadly, the sad smile still there, "The Spirits... they don't take kindly to... to cowards... like me."
My voice is choked and strained with sobs as I clutch the boy tightly to my chest. I hold him closely as the words pour out of me.
"Oh... oh kid, how can you say that?" I demand, wet droplets of saltwater dripping onto his chest, "You're a hero! Worthy of the Avatar's place! You... oh, kid, you did something amazing. I swear... I swear on my life, I'll tell the world your name and the incredible thing you did today! You're a hero! A hero!"
He weeps freely now, reaching forward and grabbing a hold of my arm. His fingers dig in, surprisingly strong as the blood begins to blossom from his mouth, splattering across his face as death begins to clasp it's icy fingers around him. He struggles to force it down, choking wetly as he forces words from his mouth.
"Tell him... tell him I'm sorry!" he demands, his eyes glistening with desperation, "Tell him... I didn't want to! That... that I... that they... I didn't... I wanted to save..... her...."
But no other words come out. There is only a last burst of warm air from his throat, as his lungs allow their last breath to escape into the air and his life leaves him.
There is nothing else, only a blur of an intangible world, far away as I pull myself to my feet. My sight is filled with a haze of white light, impossible to perceive even as I see the image of Toph appear in the alley across from me. Somehow, though I don't remember walking or seeing her walk towards me, she comes forward and wraps her small arms around me. Her head rests softly against my chest as she holds me as tightly as her muscles will allow. The warmth of her living, breathing body cradles and rocks me lightly, filling me with the perception of my own heartbeat, my own pulsing lungs, the life that my body contains.
I stare blankly into the sky, and, as if in a dream, Appa floats overhead. His fur ripples in the wind, his massive paws gripping onto nothing as he soars by.
I feel a hot wetness through my filthy shirt as Toph can no longer hold back the tears. Her soft crying soaks into my chest and touches my heart, and my own tears find fresh life as I bury my face in her hair, clutching her as firmly as I am able. We harbor no shame for our tears, not even an awareness of our surroundings as we hold onto each other for dear life.
We weep out of relief, out of the sheer happiness we feel that somehow, despite all the odds against us, we are both here at this moment to hold each other. We weep out of confusion, the gripping events of the past week swirling around us, choking in their claustrophobic intensity. We weep out of sadness, memories of the torn friendships and battered relationships forming fresh wounds upon our hearts. But most of all, I think, we weep for the young kid, who died to keep us alive.
Unintelligible prayers of raw emotion pour from me to the Spirits, the boy's face fresh upon all of them. Young boy, nameless though you are, you are a hero, in every definition of the word, and I will keep the promise that I made to you.
A/N: Welp, there it is, the end of Chapter 12 and the end of Jiro the Mouse. I guess here is a really good spot to discuss that character a bit...
Jiro the Mouse is the first original character I ever wrote who wasn't a straight-up villain. I wanted to write him as a very sympathetic character, but not one so sympathetic that you could completely condone his actions, so that I could fully bring the reality of his own personal Redemption into more of a powerful moment. It was a pleasure writing him, as he was much more powerless than most of the other characters, and thereby had a much different perspective on things, but most of all, I wanted to show that even in the most humble of people, as powerless and occasionally cowardly as the poor Mouse, lies the chance of incredible heroism. I sure hope that I conveyed that, and I'm dying to know what you think!
One chapter remains in the story. Up next week, the Resolution, and I hope that it lives up to y'all's expectations! So, as always, keep reading (and if you're feeling kindly, leave a review)!
Superbleh11