Deep Ravine
Chapter 5: Escapism
'That's quite a pile of letters," Mai remarked.
She tucked pale hands inside deep red sleeves and looked over Iroh's shoulder as he signed the final one. He'd been true to his word and began composing them the morning after he and Mai talked.
"Everyone I could think of," the old man replied. "Certain members of the Order are involved in healing or know those who are. And Katara's is right here." Iroh patted the top of the stack. "I'll send them off personally. Would you like to take a walk with me, up to the messenger hawk tower?"
Just the thought wearied Mai. "No," she answered while shaking her head.
Mai had her own plans, plans that involved her knives and the training room. Since Miyako's birth, she hadn't touched any of her weapons. Worse, she'd given them little thought. Perhaps the act of throwing her blades, losing herself like she used to in the aim and throw, aim and throw, might prove therapeutic. It couldn't hurt.
It seemed Iroh had his own theories. "I've had another idea, Mai." He shot her a sly look. "I'm just full of them, aren't I?"
"Seems so."
"I've found that meditation, when done properly, and that takes some time to learn, can be remarkably beneficial. I'm more than willing to teach you, Mai. An hour or so every day, you pick the time, spent cleansing your mind cannot but do good. Trust me on this one; after Lu Ten's death, it helped me more than I can say."
"Oh, I don't know, Iroh. I'm not really much for that kind of thing."
"I think you should explore every possibility, don't you?"
That sounded a bit like pushing and Mai balked. But Iroh's insistence came from a good place. And what harm could meditation do? Zuko practiced the art, though not with as much devotion as Iroh. And she had witnessed Zuko's mood change after a session, seen anger and bitterness replaced by calm and acceptance. Calm she was all right with. But she would not accept this condition of hers, not as a permanent part of her. It was a temporary state, something she would fight her way out of even if she almost died doing that. Too bad she had such little energy for fighting.
"I suppose….yes; when do you want to start?"
"How about tomorrow?"
"After lunch, when Miyako's napping; the nurse will watch her."
"It's a date." He smiled broadly and sprang up from his seat, still quick and fit at his advanced age. "Where are you off to now?"
"I plan to get reacquainted with something I've been missing. It's been far too long."
~~~~0000~~~~
In her private training room, a gift from Zuko what seemed like eons ago, Mai slipped out of the bulky and heavy robes she wore as Fire Lady. A supply of training clothes, knee length pants, comfortable with a drawstring, and sleeveless shirts was stacked in a small cupboard built into the wall. She changed quickly and was glad to see the piles of red and gold on the floor rather than on her slender frame. The training clothes were black and lightweight, a pleasure to wear and to move in. But they were good for training only. No wide sleeves hid her dart launchers and no loose, wide legged pants hid the knives at her ankles and thighs.
"My days of fighting are over anyway," she murmured. "This is just for pleasure now and to keep in shape."
She certainly hoped that the days of assassination attempts were long gone. While she enjoyed the danger and the thrill of a fight, Zuko's safety was infinitely more valuable. And now there was Miyako to consider. But Zuko was the leader of a nation still hated by many. Some people bore grudges a lifetime and were willing to wait and wait more until an opportunity to exact revenge came. Mai and Zuko could never relax fully. And Mai never wanted to lose her skill.
Besides, throwing knives was more than a hobby for her. Once upon a time, it had saved her life, given her purpose and focus, given her something of her own; her self esteem improved along with her precision. Whether she threw to stop an enemy or to hit a target hung on the wall of her training room didn't matter. Her blades, her darts, her throwing, were a part of her. Though she wasn't born a knife thrower like Zuko had been born a firebender, and while she had no internal flame she could call up at will, Mai's skill, hard won and the result of years of practice, was no less integral to her being.
Not throwing, not even wearing her blades since the birth of her daughter was a terrible indication of her mental and emotional upheaval. Mai wasn't sure how she would do or how long she would last. But she needed to pick up that which she had dropped, retrieve what she had lost in order to get better; that Mai was convinced of.
With her complete arsenal strapped on, Mai paced about the room, getting accustomed to the weight and the feel of the weapons. She felt strange at first, but that wore off and then the comfort she got from her weapons, the sense of self, came back and a small smile tugged diligently at her lips.
"Feels right," she spoke aloud, aimed and threw.
She missed and missed again and then again. Her body felt sluggish and slow, her arm and wrist weak. But Mai persisted. She threw until perspiration rose on her forehead like drops of dew and her training clothes were damp. And by the time Mai had exhausted herself, her throws were true, hitting the center of the target.
Exhausted, she dropped to a cushion and spread her body out, one arm shading her eyes from the light that poured in through the room's single window. Her mind went blank and she truly rested for the first time in weeks. Physical fatigue from exercise calmed the brain like almost nothing else. And soon she was asleep.
~~~~0000~~~~
Zuko found her there two hours later. He gave her a gentle shake and she stumbled up from slumber, groggy and irritated.
"What?" she snapped.
"It's me." Zuko knelt in front of her, taking her face in his hands. "You okay?"
"Yeah, I trained until I dropped."
"Good, good, I'm glad."
And Mai could see in his eyes how pleased her husband was.
He understands what my knives, my throwing mean to me. He knows it's a part of who I am.
And she was grateful.
"I was terrible. But then I got better." She stood up and stretched and felt a pleasant ache in her muscles.
"You never forget a skill."
"No; did I worry you?"
"You didn't tell anyone where you were. It's a big palace." No hint of accusation coloured his voice. He restrained himself for her sake.
"You can get angry at me. It's all right. I won't break." Zuko hesitated. "Please, don't tiptoe around me; that only makes me feel stranger."
"I was worried, yeah. And Miyako's hungry. She's screaming. I looked for you everywhere, Mai. Next time, tell someone. If something happened to you…"
The worry and confusion on her husband's face were chastisement worse than any Mai's mother had ever directed at her. She hung her head for a moment, the joy of throwing and the bliss of sleep both gone from her.
"It won't happen again. I'm sorry, Zuko."
She started to walk away, back to their daughter, their rooms, what felt like her prison. But Zuko grabbed hold of her elbow.
"Wait, I'll walk with you." He bent down and picked up her forgotten robes, a job for the servants perhaps, but that did not matter.
Mai waited. She watched as Zuko folded the robes over one arm and with his free hand took hers. His skin was warm, like always, a wonderful constant in her life. Her hand was cold in comparison. She sighed softly as he rubbed at the tiny scars on her palm and fingers, scars he had traced and kissed and knew as intimately as his own. Something stirred inside, not desire exactly, but the need to be held. She moved closer to Zuko, walked so that their bodies touched. He understood and letting go of her hand, put his arm around her waist, drawing her close. Mai relaxed against her husband, allowed herself to sink into his heat and his love. It gave her hope.
Back in their rooms, while Mai fed Miyako, Zuko sent for tea and something light to eat. "You worked out pretty hard," he reminded her.
The baby settled in her crib, a rattle clasped tight in tiny fingers, Zuko and Mai ate and drank. She felt his eyes on her sometimes, when her own gaze drifted away, felt his concern like a wonderful weight. She told him about the meditation.
"It could help. I think it will. And Iroh is such a good teacher." He smiled ruefully. "Too bad I didn't realize that a lot earlier."
"You were an angry kid, angry and hurt and cast aside. No one blames you."
"I was a jerk too."
Mai did not refute his words. They were true enough.
"We're starting tomorrow." She didn't want to put too much faith into the healing properties of meditation but a bit of excitement twisted up her stomach anyway.
Zuko nodded, finished his tea and rose from the sofa. "I've got an hour's worth of paperwork, okay? Then I'll be back. Maybe we can take Miya for a walk in the garden. Is that all right with you?"
Most of her preferred the idea of sleep. But part of Mai leapt at the suggestion. "Sure; I'd like that."
He gave her a kiss. His lips lingered against hers, reluctant to leave. "Later then."
"Later," she repeated.
~~~~0000~~~~
Afternoon gave way to evening as they walked. Summer was giving way to autumn as well and the breeze had more of a bite. Zuko cradled Miyako in one strong arm, against his chest. The tiny girl who seemed to grow larger every day wore a long sleeved tunic and leggings along with slippers to keep her feet warm. The wind toyed with her black hair, blowing it into her eyes. It must have tickled because Miyako smiled. She was too young yet to laugh but Mai found herself looking forward to the days ahead when she could.
"Are you all right? You're not tired, are you?"
It seemed he was always asking her if she was all right, like she might shatter or explode or disappear completely into herself at any time.
"I am, but I want to keep going."
Moving forward, one foot after the other; thinking ahead to what she hoped would be better days. Mai knew she had to persevere, continue to fight or be lost forever. And for her right now, going for a walk with her husband and daughter amounted to battling for her life.
"There's our tree." Zuko pointed to the apple tree of their youthful days together. He grinned and for a moment was lost in his memories.
"It's the best tree."
"Yeah, it is."
The bark was scarred much like both of them. Yet the tree continued to flourish. Apples dangled from its branches, red and enticing. Large roots sprawled beneath the grass and soil, spreading further and further as the need for water grew along with the tree.
"Do you think it will be around when Miyako's grown up?"
Zuko did not hesitate. "I'm sure of it."
That thought, the idea of such continuity, eased Mai's troubled mind and heart. This time she reached for Zuko's hand, holding it loosely. He answered with a light squeeze and Mai knew that her thoughts had been conveyed without the use of words. Now, more than ever, words and talking were difficult for her. The silent communications she shared with her husband was a blessing.
They finished their walk in quiet. Only Miyako's occasional gurgle, the wind in the leaves, birdsong and the soft sound of their footfalls broke that quiet. As they walked it was almost possible for Mai to believe all was as it should be.
But later, as she tossed in the bed she and Zuko shared, moving closer to his body, then further away, then molding her frame to his, all her doubts and all her sadness loomed, vivid and giant, like childhood nightmares.
She clung to Zuko for dear life.
~~~~0000 ~~~~
The following day, Mai did something unexpected. She sent a note to her mother, asking if she would like to watch Miyako for a few hours in the afternoon. Her motivation was muddled; guilt, a desire to make things better between her and Akira, the nasty cold the nurse had come down with.
Akira replied immediately, sending word that she would like nothing better than to spend time with her granddaughter.
"She's not going to, I don't know…undermine us or something?"
Mai gave Zuko a shrug. "I don't think so. And Miyako's only five weeks old. I don't think there's anything to undermine."
Despite ten years of marriage to their daughter, two years of engagement before that, Zuko's relationship with Mai's parents was distant; polite, but cool. It mirrored Mai's own bond with Akira and Hoshi. Perhaps that was her fault. His perception of them was coloured by her words over the years, her childhood recollections. And Zuko remembered those times when she was small and he was small and she would do her best to hide her anger or sadness. With him Mai let her mask slip a bit and he was allowed to see what she was really feeling, things that neither Azula nor Ty Lee ever knew.
"You're right, of course. She's Miyako's grandmother and she seems to genuinely want to help."
When Akira blew into their rooms, she scooped up Miyako with a smile and produced a small stuffed toy from some hidden fold in her robes. The baby reached for it, smiling back at Akira.
"I'm so glad you asked me to come," the woman declared. She beamed at Mai and Zuko. "Where are you two going?" Her gaze became more piercing and focused on Mai. She and Zuko were dressed casually in training clothes. "Are you training? Should you be?"
Iroh chose that moment to knock and enter. "I've got the room prepared. Are you ready to meditate, Mai?"
"Meditation? Why?"
"Uh, well, I…." Mai shut down.
"Your daughter has suffered a sort of malaise, a sadness since Miyako's birth. I thought that meditation might help." He was clearly surprised at Akira's ignorance and not sure who to blame. He was also well aware of Mai's reticence, especially regarding her present state of mind. And she was adept at hiding her emotions. But shouldn't a mother notice these things? Or was the relationship too damaged for that?
Something flickered across Akira's face, and she grew distant for a moment, lost in her own thoughts. When she returned, it was obvious that she wanted to say something to Mai, but was overwhelmed by the presence of Iroh and Zuko. She finally managed, "Perhaps meditation will do you good," and an encouraging smile.
Mai was the last out the door. Her mother's voice made her stop.
"Wait. Mai…." The woman hesitated before collecting her courage. "Perhaps we can have a talk, just you and me. There are some things I should tell you."
Her first impulse was to snap back a definitive 'no'. But Mai swallowed down her anger and her resentment, took a deep breath and nodded. She could not afford to shun anything or anyone now that might provide her with information or help, not even her mother.
~~~~0000~~~~
Iroh had selected a small room with only one window and little by way of distractions. It was disused and empty but for the mats he had placed there along with a small table. Upon the table were three thick white candles.
"Sit," he instructed, pointing to the mats, one for each of them.
Mai watched as Zuko dropped gracefully to one of the outer mats, assuming the lotus position, his back straight. She took the center mat and did the same. Her muscles throbbed from the previous day's workout and she grimaced a bit. After a moment, the ache eased. Iroh joined them and lit all the candles with an imperceptible movement of his hand.
"The first thing we need to do is relax."
Just like that.
"Inhale through your nose, a deep breath and slow; now let it back out. Concentrate on your breathing. Feel the air go in and out. Feel your chest expand and deflate."
They breathed for a few minutes and Mai did feel some of her tension drop away. She also felt a little ridiculous.
"Now, put your hands together like so, Mai."
She watched as Iroh rested the fingers of one hand loosely on the fingers of his other, thumbs just touching and mimicked him.
"Focus on the candle in front of you. Keep your eyes on that little flame."
Mai snuck a look at Zuko first and saw that he had already shed the trappings of daily life and the world around them, deep in whatever world meditation took one to.
"Don't watch Zuko. Watch the candle."
She could hear the grin in Iroh's voice.
"Yeah, yeah," she grumbled. But she wanted this to work; she needed it to work.
Mai stared at the flame, how it shifted with the movement of the air, how a halo of light surrounded it, how the colours varied from pale yellow, almost white, to a deep yellow. Zuko and Iroh faded away. The room faded too, the mat beneath her, the floor beneath that. Then it seemed as though she floated, light, like in water. And then the grief and pain and confusion faded too.
Her concentration failed after a minute or so and everything poured back into her. She huffed with frustration.
"You did well for your first time, Mai."
"What's the point of it? I escaped for a few moments. Meditating didn't make anything better."
"Give it a chance. Each time you'll last longer and the peace you're left with will last longer too. And perhaps you'll find some answers. Look, Mai, you're giving your body and your spirit a chance to rejuvenate. It can't hurt, remember."
Zuko stirred beside her. "How did you do?"
Mai shrugged. "Fine according to Iroh." She realized then that she'd pinned too much hope on this afternoon. It would take time, weeks, maybe months. "Thanks, both of you; I'll be back here tomorrow. But right now, I want to throw my knives again." She gave her husband a pointed look. "I'll be back to feed Miyako. I just need an hour."
Without another word she left, off to her training room and her own brand of meditation. Mai supposed she sought more escape, another few minutes with an empty mind. Right now, that and Zuko's love were all that kept her sane.
~~~~0000~~~~