Chapter 31

Somewhere deep under the surface of Omashu, Jet found himself under arrest, surrounded by bandits who'd love the chance to get a little revenge, and late for dinner with Mai.

Being late for dinner bothered him more than any of the rest of it. He'd been arrested plenty of times. He'd been surrounded by bandits wanting revenge even more often.

But it wasn't an everyday event for him to have a private dinner date with the woman he planned to marry—someday.

"Come on, guys," he called yet again from his spot on the floor where he'd been restrained. "Let me at least let somebody know I'm not going to be on time for dinner!" He knew from experience that under usual arrest circumstances, being annoying in a friendly way could sometimes get you what you wanted--if it didn't get you beat up first.

The guards just ignored him. He could see them through the thick wooden grate set in the upper half of the ironclad wooden door, but they never even turned to look at him.

Then the lock suddenly grated as the key was turned and the door swung open. Finally, Jet sighed to himself. Maybe he'd at least get his message out.

However, he knew something was amiss when Li and the leader across the room began to laugh—a vicious, humorless laugh. He looked at the guards entering and knew what was so funny to them.

"Oh, no," he groaned. "Not again."

Back in her apartments, Mai put the finishing touches on dinner for two. She was glad Toph and Zuko had decided to be on their own this evening; it had made it easier for her to beg off from Katara's invitation as well.

"Jet and I are going to have a quiet dinner together this evening," she'd told her. Katara just smiled in understanding.

"You two have really got something going on, don't you?" Katara asked in a leading voice.

Mai wasn't exactly sure how to answer. Jet had asked her to marry him—sort of. That ought to qualify as something going on, but Mai still wasn't sure where she stood. That wasn't true--she felt like she stood on the edge of a cliff.

If she jumped, she'd have to trust that something was really there to catch her. Otherwise it was really going to hurt when she hit the bottom. So, did she jump or did she wait until she knew for certain what was waiting for her?

In the end she changed the subject on Katara by planning a shopping trip with her to buy the fabrics and spices she'd promised to send Dei Zi in the swamp village.

Now, back in her apartments, Mai sat there at the low table and waited. She was a little surprised Jet hadn't already returned. He'd seemed pretty happy about the dinner invitation. Maybe he was still catching up with his friends. She hoped he was having a good time.

In the dark cell beneath the city, Jet knew he was in for a very bad time. The two burly guards who entered each carried leather lashes. The bad kind, Jet thought, with seven braided whips on each. He just hoped the whip ends were just knotted and not studded with stone or metal.

Knots bruised as well as cut, but the kind with stones in the end tended to just rip the flesh off in chunks. You were left with either some seriously bad scars, or you just died from blood loss.

But even the knotted kind could kill if they beat you long enough. Maybe the fifty lash maximum was being enforced. He felt pretty good about surviving fifty. He might even be able to stay conscious the whole time.

He decided to set that as his goal. If you wanted to make it through serious corporal punishment mentally intact, it was very important to set goals.

One of the huge guards walked over and unceremoniously hauled Jet up off the floor by the front of his vest then dragged him to a huge wooden column in the center of the room. Jet noted that the whip ends were knotted. Out of a seriously bad situation, that was the one bright spot.

Then the other guard untied his hands, only to strip off his leather vest and retie his hands around the pole to a metal ring set just over head height from the floor.

Without a word to him or to each other, they shook out their lashes and gave a preparatory warm up stretch.

"Hey, guys," Jet began, "before we get started I'd just like to remind you that this is all seriously illegal and against the judicial code of Omashu."

They ignored him and just began. The lashes whistled through the air as Jet hugged the pole and began to count. Counting was what kept a person sane.

One, two, three, four.

The first several hurt really really badly as they ripped his shirt apart. Great, he told himself. This was the one shirt he had left that he liked. The grizzly had gotten his other one.

Five, six, seven, eight.

Once through the shirt, the whip ends began to work on the skin of his back, curving around his sides as well. Those hurt especially badly.

Nine, ten, eleven.

He was really getting cut up now. He forced himself to keep breathing through the slash and sting. It wasn't the first time he'd done this. Usually just ten or fifteen lashes from a ticked off judge or an angry bandit leader.

Twelve, thirteen.

The worst one so far had come during his days as a Freedom Fighter. He'd been caught stealing food for the group. If the authorities had realized the full nature of his criminal career, he'd have gotten a prison term. As it was they'd just sentenced him to thirty lashes and let him go.

Fourteen.

Well, left him for dead was more like it. He had crawled away a short distance before passing out. Then the gang had picked him up and hauled him back to the hideout. It had taken him weeks to get over it.

Fifteen.

Either he was not as tough as he used to be, or these guys were more committed to their work, he thought to himself. This was much worse than he remembered. He began to grunt reflexively with each blow. He was having trouble standing. The pain was white hot and getting exponentially worse.

Sixteen.

His world narrowed to whistle and cut. First the sound, then the pain.

Seventeen.

He almost cried out, but somehow managed to bite it back. His knees had gone completely weak though and he hung painfully from his bound wrists, his shoulder muscles burning in agony.

Eighteen.

Somehow he managed to reach up to grip the metal ring in his fingers. Toph could bend metal. Maybe he could too. He tried to hear the earth in the cold ring. He tried to feel the earth instead of the whip. It whispered to him softly.

Nineteen.

He held the ring until the weight of his sinking body pulled his fingers free. Without the whispers from the metal, he felt cut off. Alone. The loneliness was as bad as the pain.

Twenty.

Everything hurt. His wrists ached sharply where the leather bindings pulled as his full weight hung from them. Each blow sent shock waves of sharp sensation through his body.

Twenty-one.

He tried to stand again, but he was too weak. He wondered if he was losing much blood.

Twenty-two.

He wondered what Mai had planned for dinner. He couldn't breathe.

Twenty-three.

He tried to see her face, to hold onto her. His body jerked with each blow.

Twenty-four.

He cried out.

Twenty-five.

He almost forgot to count.

Twenty-six.

Stars shot through his vision and black spots appeared before his eyes.

Twenty-seven.

He fell into blackness. Before the darkness took him completely, he was aware of being mildly disappointed in himself. Last time he'd made it to thirty.

Meanwhile, Mai waited for him at her apartment. When the evening grew long and dinner grew cold, she sent her footman to inquire at his townhouse if he had returned yet from the city. At the footman's negative reply, she immediately walked to Aang's apartments.

"Jet's not back from town," she announced as soon as she was shown into the room. "Do you know where he might have gone?"

"No," Aang replied, as did Katara, Sokka, and Suki. "We've just been having dinner and visiting. I thought you and Jet had plans."

"We did," Mai replied. "But he's not back yet and I'm getting worried."

"Jet can take care of himself," Sokka assured her. "I'm sure he just got hung up somewhere."

But Mai wasn't convinced, so Aang sent a footman to make some inquiries. Within half an hour, he had returned with some very disturbing news. In determining whether or not Jet had returned to the residential section, he'd discovered that Jet had been arrested at the gate.

"You wait here," Aang instructed Mai as she rose angrily. "Sokka and I will go get him."

"I am not staying here," she retorted hotly. "I want to know what is going on."

So, in the end Mai led the charge to the residential guard commander's office, demanding to see Jet. As the commander prepared to make a statement about proper procedure for seeing a prisoner, he looked up to see Avatar Aang standing beside her. Then he realized just whom he was addressing. "Lady Mai?" he asked tentatively.

"Yes, I am Lady Mai," she replied icily. "I demand to know what is going on here. Why has Jet been arrested?"

"We were operating on strict standing orders from Tiandu, your major domo, that were issued a week ago," the commander began trying to explain. "He'd told us in no uncertain terms that Jet was working in league with a band of outlaws who were trying to break into the residential area using a Fire Nation seal. We've already caught two others with forgeries."

"That is preposterous," Mai snapped in answer. "Jet is not working with outlaws. I demand his release immediately."

"Well," the commander began tentatively, "there are procedures that must be followed."

"Is Jet okay?" Aang asked, preparing to use Toph's earthbending technique to judge the truth of the commander's reply.

"Yes, of course," the commander replied, but the lie was so apparent, even Sokka and Mai knew he wasn't telling the truth.

"As the Avatar, I demand to see him—now," Aang stated, allowing himself to slip into the first layer of the avatar state. He heard the commander's gasp at the sight of his eyes and tattoos beginning to glow, but ignored it in favor of reaching out through the stone floor with his enhanced abilities to find Jet.

"Sir," the commander began nervously, rising to meet them, "proper procedures must be followed. Maybe in a few days I can have the paperwork completed."

At Aang's glare, compounded by the unearthly glow of his eyes, the man grew truly frightened and sat back down in his chair. He just hoped the guards hadn't gotten around to administering the fifty lashes he'd decided to impose as a sort of favor to Tiandu.

Aang just gave him another cold glance and lifted his hands in an earthbending stance. Mai and Sokka watched in amazement as Aang parted the floor beneath their feet, causing it to descend with them like a staircase, carrying them down beneath the earth to the city dungeon.

The stones opened and allowed them to pass unhindered through what appeared to be a soldiers' mess hall. A group of guardsmen looked up from their meals in surprise, food falling from their mouths as they watched the group descend through the ceiling and down into the floor again on a moving stairway of stone.

Then they arrived in a long hallway. "The rooms ahead are all made of wood," Aang began. "They have to be the cells. He should be in one of them."

Aang walked quickly down the hall to the first large wooden door. It was bound in iron, which made it impregnable to most all earthbenders--all but those who'd learned to bend metal. Aang had been taught by the best, and he sent a silent thanks to Toph as he used the iron banding to rip the door apart.

They entered the large darkened cell, Mai looking about desperately for any sign of Jet. Then she saw him lying unconscious, face down on the floor, his back a bleeding mess. She ran to his side, her breath catching anxiously in her chest. The grizzly wolverine had shown more mercy, she thought to herself as she knelt beside him.

Aang also reached his side, using his talents and the techniques learned from Katara—he sent silent thanks to her as well—to heal as much as he could of the torn flesh and stop the worst of the bleeding.

A group of guards had wandered in, dumbstruck by the avatar's power. Sokka snapped an order at them. "Don't just stand there. Go get a stretcher—now!"

"Jet?" Mai called to him softly.

"Jet, huh?" a voice asked in a rasp across the room. "Thought his name was Jing, Lady Mai. I'd have made sure to tell them Jet if I'd known. But that old Tiandu fellow figured it out quick enough from what I told him. I guess what goes around comes around, doesn't it?"

Mai looked up to see the bandit leader leering at her from across the room. Reflexively, she raised her hand to fire daggers into his chest, only to recall regretfully that her empty holsters were back in her room. She made a mental note to visit Jet's armorer friend and reload.

So instead of killing him on sight, she walked across the room and slapped the man as hard as she could--twice. Then she addressed yet another guard who'd shown up to see what the commotion was. "I never want to see this man's face again," she declared. "Keep him down here for the rest of his life."

"No," she heard a weak voice say from behind her. She turned to see Jet rising on one elbow, his hand reaching out to her. "No. He gets a trial. Everyone gets a fair trial. And a message out," he said before collapsing to the floor again in exhaustion and pain.

She ran back to his side, pushing his hair back, dismayed by the bruises on his face and his swollen lip. "Tiandu is going to wish he'd never been born," she vowed.

"No," Jet whispered again, taking her hand and looking her straight in the eyes. "He was just trying to protect you."

The stretcher arrived and carefully they loaded Jet on it, a pair of guards carrying him back to the diplomatic compound. Mai directed them to her apartments.

"Where are we going?" Jet asked weakly.

"Where I can keep an eye on you," Mai answered as Aang followed while Sokka went to fetch Katara.

Soon Katara's healing waters finished what Aang had started and the awful torn places on Jet's back were healed to dark red stripes instead of open wounds.

"He's still going to hurt pretty badly," Katara said. "I've done all I can, but some of this has just got to heal on its own. I'll send for the herbalist. She can prepare something to help with the pain and to help him sleep if he needs it."

"Don't worry about me," Jet commented tiredly from where he lay across Mai's bed. "I'm fine. I've walked myself home after worse than this."

Mai turned to her butler. "Please send an urgent request to the herbalist," she ordered firmly. He bowed and left the room. Then she turned to Katara and Aang. "It's late. You guys go on to bed. I'll take care of it from here."

Katara looked back at her then at Aang. "I'm going to stay here with Mai," she declared firmly. "Give Bumi a kiss for me."

"You don't have to do that, Katara," Mai responded. "I've got things under control."

"I'm sure you do," Katara answered. "But we aren't in the swamp anymore. There will be talk if I don't stay."

Mai tried again to send her home, but Jet spoke up from the bed. "No, Mai, let her stay. I shouldn't be here anyway. I ought to be back at my place."

"You are not leaving my sight," Mai declared firmly. But in the end she relented and let Katara stay.

At last the herbalist came bringing a basket full of powders and herbal poultices. After consulting with Katara and having a look at Jet's injuries, she began mixing.

"This will help with the pain and the swelling," she said as she poured the powder into a cup of water. "It tastes terrible though—very bitter. Sorry," she apologized.

Jet managed to choke it down, then lay back down, resting on his least bruised side. Within a few moments, his steady breathing let them know he was asleep.

The herbalist gave the two women a smile and added, "I also put a pinch of sleeping powder in it to make sure he rests well."

"Thank you," Mai offered sincerely. Katara left to escort the herbalist downstairs again, leaving Mai alone with Jet.

Mai went to the fire and tossed on a few more chunks of coal. Then she dimmed the lamps until there was nothing left but shadow and flicker, just enough to still be able to see him where he rested beneath her silk coverlet.

She sat next to him on the bed, carefully brushing back the hair from his face, noting the dried blood still on his lip where Katara had healed the cut. She took a damp cloth from the bowl beside the bed and gently cleaned it away. It seemed she'd spent a lot of time in the last several days tending to Jet's cuts and gashes.

He was simply going to have to be more careful, she thought to herself reasonably, but there was a little hysterical edge of fear behind the thought. She forced her thoughts back to reason again.

He looked so peaceful there sleeping, so young and innocent, like the teenager the others had known so many years ago.

He took a deep breath. It must have hurt because she saw a wince of discomfort cross his brow. Then it eased thanks to the herbalist's potion, and he settled into a more comfortable position. The coverlet slipped away from his shoulder as he moved, revealing the still-healing wounds and bruises.

Mai realized that those red stripes would leave new scars, new white lines to mark his body with his past. She remembered the line across his stomach where someone had almost killed him once. Carefully, she looked lifted his hair and looked at the back of his neck and shoulder where she could still see the healing marks of the grizzly's talons. His hand rested next to him, angry purple welts and bruises encircling his wrist.

Gently, she pulled the coverlet up around him again, tucking it carefully into place to keep him warm. In the darkness, the bruises on his face were less visible. He just looked as if he were sleeping peacefully.

But even though she couldn't see, she knew. They'd hurt him.

He'd been hurt so often, so badly that he just shrugged it off.

But it bothered her very much. She meant to take care of him. He didn't seem to take very good care of himself. Other people didn't seem to take very good care of him either.

Seeing the way he'd been treated, seeing how badly they'd hurt him—even with Katara's healing—filled her with anger and a serious desire for retribution.

But he wanted fair trials. For everybody.

For his sake, she'd let it go. This time. She gave his hair another light touch and got up to put more fuel on the fire. She didn't want him to get cold.

She knew he wouldn't be able to stay with her another night. So she sat down in her armchair and watched him sleep.