Chapter 35

The next morning, Mai dreamed of the fight again, waking with a start to hear the sound of swords ringing against one another outside. She looked around for Jet, her breath constricted in sudden fear.

Katara immediately went to her side. "Where's Jet?" Mai asked breathlessly.

"Don't worry," came Katara's response. "They're being super careful this morning, I promise."

"He's out there fighting with Zuko again?" Mai blurted anxiously. "What if he gets hurt?"

Katara sat down next to her and placed a calming hand on her arm. "He's got to get right back in training, Mai. You know that. He and Zuko both have to keep working like it didn't happen. Otherwise, they won't be able to."

Mai lay there and listened, the logical part of her knowing that Katara was right. They had to get back into training. The first thing she'd learned in her study of the martial arts was that when you fell, you got back up and tried again. Otherwise, the fall had already defeated you.

The emotional part of her, however, could only see the scars on Jet's body. He didn't take care of himself. He took reckless chances. He would put himself in danger, and she wouldn't be there to stop it.

"I'm going out there," Mai stated firmly. If he was going to fight, she was going to watch.

"I'd rather you stayed in bed and rested," Katara said.

But Mai was not to be deterred. At last, Katara relented enough to put a chair on the balcony and helped Mai sit outside, wrapped up warmly in blankets.

The two men were nearly done by the time she got out there, and she was relieved when they finally broke apart and went to the fountain for water. They sat on the stone edge, both breathing heavily. Then she saw Zuko clap Jet on the shoulder and get up to walk back to the stands where Toph sat watching.

Then Jet stood up and stretched his shoulders. She could tell he was sore by the way he moved. Then he looked up toward her room and smiled when he saw her on the balcony. She gave him a little wave.

He crossed the courtyard and took the steps up to her balcony two at a time, coming to kneel beside her chair, the black sword sheathed at his side.

"How are you feeling this morning?" he asked, still a little out of breath. His hair was damp where he'd run cold water from the fountain through it to cool off from the workout.

"Much better," she replied then gave a little shiver. The morning air was cool, despite the blankets around her. "Just cold."

"You have been cold from the minute I met you," Jet laughed. "Let's get you back inside where it's warm."

And with no perceivable effort at all, he picked her up and carried her back to the bed, settling her in with an extra coverlet thrown over her for good measure. "Better?" he asked.

"Yes," she answered. Then Katara returned to the room, cup full of medical herbs in hand.

"Drink up," she ordered, passing Mai the cup.

"Let me go get cleaned up and changed and I'll come visit," Jet said, rising to head back to the balcony.

"Please do," Mai replied. He gave her a smile and ran a finger down her cheek, then left the way he'd come in.

Katara gave her a big smile as Mai sighed. "He is pretty adorable," Katara offered with a little teasing laugh.

"He's gorgeous," Mai countered. "Can I get up and get dressed?"

"Just be sure to go slowly," Katara instructed. "I'll give you a hand."

Downstairs Jet met up with Toph and Zuko as they headed back to their own apartments.

"You up for bending practice this afternoon?" Toph asked.

"Well," Jet began slowly, "I really need to go downtown for a little while and let the guys know what happened to me yesterday."

"If you're going to be meeting up with Longshot, I'd like to tag along," Zuko interjected just as Toph began to protest. "I'd like to place some orders with him. He was showing me his work the other night. He's really good."

Toph immediately began to harangue them both about the importance of training—especially since King Bumi had announced a contest date the day before. "You've only got two weeks before you're presented to King Bumi," she declared in exasperation. "You'll never be ready if you don't practice."

"From what you guys have been telling me, I'm the only qualified candidate," Jet said with a shrug. "Doesn't seem like much of a contest to me."

Toph stopped him with a hand on his arm and glared up at him intently. "Do not underestimate King Bumi," she said firmly. "Who knows what he's got planned? If you don't believe me, ask Zuko how it felt to be on the receiving end of Bumi's unpredictability."

Zuko shivered at the memory. "No, don't ask," he groaned. "I hate tight places."

But after a change of clothes and a nice visit with Mai over lunch, Jet found himself walking down the streets of Omashu with Zuko. He couldn't help but ask.

Zuko recounted briefly King Bumi's previous attempt to crown a new monarch of Omashu. "Toph told me that he'd admitted setting the whole thing up just to try to get her to come take over for him. He didn't think he'd ever find another earthbender who could hear the earth. She was the only other one he'd run across in over a hundred years of searching," Zuko offered as they walked down a dirty, crowded street.

"But knowing you're out there will make him either go easy on you or try to shake you even harder," Zuko postulated. "Then again with Bumi, you just never know."

The marketstalls were full of people for trade days with the newly arrived Southern Earth Kingdom merchants. Jet had foiled two attempted pickpocketings in the crowd and Zuko three.

On the outer edges of the stalls, Jet noticed clear signs of bandit activity, hard-looking men gathered in twos and threes observing the coming and going of customers and merchants, analyzing the security levels of potential targets. He knew very well what they were doing, having done the same himself in years past.

"I sure wish we had Chun and his strike team with us," Zuko stated. "This place is crawling with thieves."

Jet looked at the two of them and realized he'd seriously misjudged the timing of this visit. They weren't exactly underdressed, and Zuko's Fire Nation colors stood out like a sore thumb in the otherwise shabby crowd. Anybody watching them would know in an instant that they were not locals.

Jet reached down to pat the hilt of the black sword for reassurance, glad once again that Sokka had decided to give it back to him. Part of him felt bad about taking it back, but the sword had become so much a part of him over the years that he just couldn't find it in him to resist too much.

Once at the leather shop, both men shed their outer tunics in bright Fire Nation and Earth Kingdom colors. Smellerbee loaned them a knapsack to stuff them in, agreeing that in their plain sleeves and dark trousers they looked much less noticeable.

While Zuko and Longshot took care of some business, Jet went back to the storage area where he crashed between jobs. He opened the little wooden box that held all his valuables and pulled out the only item inside, a leather pouch of money.

About half of it was the money Tiandu had paid him to escort Lady Mai's brother from Ba Sing Se to Omashu. It had only been weeks since that meeting, but it seemed like years—so much had changed in his life since then.

He weighed the pouch in his hand and compared the man who'd taken the assignment to the man he was now. That Jet hadn't been an earthbender. He hadn't been friends with folks like the Avatar and Prince Zuko. He hadn't even laid eyes on Lady Mai before, much less kissed her, much less loved her.

That was the biggest change in his life, he decided. Even compared to being candidate for the throne of Omashu, the change that had come about in his life since he'd met Mai was the most dramatic. Meeting her had made him see everything he was and everything he wanted to be in a completely different light.

He tossed the bag of money into the air and caught it again with a snap of the wrist. First, he would return every cent Tiandu had given him—then he wouldn't be her employee any more.

Then he'd take the rest and see if it was enough for a new set of blades for her holsters. It wasn't exactly the most romantic engagement gift anyone had ever given, he thought with a grin, but she would probably appreciate it far more than a silk coat or a piece of jewelry.

Then Jet joined the rest of the gang for a nice visit, explaining his absence the day before to the concerns of the rest of the group. He assured them all that Mai would be fine and invited them up to the upper ring for dinner that evening.

"I don't have anything to wear," Smellerbee immediately stated. "I'd rather you just came here again. Besides I don't like going up there—it's all too fancy for me."

Zuko assured her that dinner would be very casual. "But I think you and Longshot need to consider moving the shop up to a district closer to the palace," he added. "I've got enough commissions planned to get you guys comfortably settled for a while."

"What kind of commissions?" Smellerbee asked suspiciously, darting a glance over at her quiet husband. Longshot just gave her a little smile—a smile that told her volumes. It was for real. Real jobs, not charity. She'd never take Zuko's charity. Or anybody else's for that matter. Longshot knew that.

"I've ordered several items for presentations and awards," Zuko explained. "Plus a New Year's present for Uncle Iroh. I think if your work was available to a broader customer base, you'd see a lot more business of that kind."

Smellerbee looked again at Longshot, who nodded this time. She tried to hide it, but inwardly she was thrilled. She knew how talented Longshot was—she knew how much it galled him to have to survive off basic leatherwork, how much he longed to do more than cut bridles and stamp workmen's aprons.

She began to imagine all the beautiful leathers and fittings they'd be able to purchase, the new dyes and equipment. She started to get excited. Suddenly dinner in the upper ring didn't sound nearly as intimidating.

"I bet Sokka and I can get you a much higher quality leather from the Watertribe than you've been getting before," The Duke added helpfully.

"The main issue with getting good leather is the safety of the trade route," Smellerbee sighed. "It's just too risky to import really nice stuff since so much of it goes missing along the way."

Jet stood and began to pace in thought. This was yet another problem he'd always known was there—along with broken fountains, dirty streets, unsafe marketplaces. Highly organized and well-equipped gangs of bandits threatened the trade routes constantly. Omashu authorities were either outnumbered or bribed into turning a blind eye to the activity.

He remembered the complete lack of procedure when they'd arrested him. He could almost guarantee that if he'd been a member of a truly powerful gang, he'd have been let off without punishment.

In fact, he wondered if Li and his boss were even still in jail. Probably not, he thought wryly. Meanwhile, if Aang and Mai hadn't come to get him, he'd probably still be rotting away down there without trial, without representation. Something had to be done.

Whatever happened in King Bumi's contest, Jet determined to find some way to make Omashu safe for innocent people to live and work and do business. Trade was Omashu's lifeblood—without safe, open trade between the outer provinces and Ba Sing Se and the inner provinces, Omashu would crumble from within and the entire Earth Kingdom would suffer.

Omashu had become his home. He actually cared about what happened to it. It surprised him how much he cared.

After a light lunch with the group, Jet and Zuko made their way back out into the streets. The guys promised to come up for dinner and Jet and Zuko assured them of clearance into the residential compound. Jet assured them most forcefully of their easy entrance—he never wanted anyone to go through what he'd been through at the gates.

The market was even more crowded as shoppers took advantage of the warm autumn sunshine to visit the various stalls and dealers. Perhaps it was the crowds, perhaps it was the confidence in their own abilities to take care of themselves, perhaps it was the sheer tenacity and diabolical organization of the criminals targeting them.

At any rate, when a merchant's cart suddenly pulled in front of them, dumping half its load of cabbages into the street, Jet and Zuko stopped and began to help gather the vegetables as the forlorn merchant mourned their loss. Neither noticed a second cart approaching from a side street or a pair of old, harmless-looking men who also bent to help gather the fallen produce.

As the second cart passed behind them, the two old men expertly tapped each one of them on the back of the head, just below and behind the ear with an easily concealed leather sap, dropping Jet and Zuko like sacks of flour. The second cart paused just long enough for two more men to load them up into the back, tossing a heavy cloth across them.

If any of the bystanders noticed what happened, they knew to keep quiet—any other reaction was only inviting trouble of a kind they absolutely didn't want or need.

Zuko awoke in the darkness to a splitting headache, a hand shaking him, and the sound of a voice. "Sparky! Sparky, wake up!"

"Only my wife calls me Sparky," he groaned.

"Yeah, I know," came Jet's response, "but I didn't think you'd want to risk your real name with the crowd that's got us."

Zuko felt around him in the pitch black darkness. He was lying on a metal floor, up against a metal wall. He sat up, ignoring the pain in his head. He brushed against someone—Jet. They were in some kind of metal cell. "Where are we?" he asked.

"We're in a bender box," Jet replied quietly.

Zuko thought for a moment, then an image came to him. Toph had told him of how she'd learned to bend metal while held prisoner in a box like this one.

"Can you get us out of this?" Jet asked curiously.

Zuko felt around for any wood he might burn through. No luck. "I don't think so," he replied. "This thing appears to be made of all metal."

"So no burning us out, huh?" Jet asked.

"Not unless you want it to heat up like an oven," Zuko answered. His head was beginning to feel better. "Who do you think has us?"

"My guess is professional kidnappers," Jet stated. "We are complete idiots, you know that, don't you?"

Zuko sighed. He felt perfectly idiotic all right so he agreed. The two of them sat quietly, each berating himself for being so careless, for being so trusting, for being less than prepared.

"Yeah, well, we're idiots," Zuko finally admitted aloud. "Let's not make it worse. First, we get out of here, then we get back before anyone realizes that we've been caught like a couple of pigeondoves."

"Then we never speak of it again," Jet added firmly.

"Agreed," Zuko stated, and the two men found each other's wrists for a firm forearm shake to seal the bargain.

"My wife learned to bend her way out of one of these," Zuko offered. "How about it? Willing to give that a try?"

Jet shrugged in the darkness. "Why not?" he sighed. Then he rose to his knees and began to tap the box with the palms of his hands, looking for feedback, any kind of feedback.

The earth inside the metal whispered to him softly, like the metal ring in the prison where they'd beaten him. He began to get an idea of the shape and size of the box, but couldn't move any of it. It seemed like an eternity that he tapped and listened, pressing his forehead against the cold metal wall—partially to increase the sensation he was getting from it, partially because the coolness felt good against his skin.

His head hurt. It had hurt when he woke up, but instead of easing off, it seemed to be getting worse.

He ignored it.

Finally, he had a breakthrough. "I can see the lock," he whispered to Zuko. "But I can't bend it. Maybe you can direct enough heat at it to get it to break."

Carefully, the two switched places in the box so that Zuko knelt before the door. He ran his hand down the corner until he met the finger Jet pointed at the particular spot where the lock held the door sealed. He took a deep breath and centered his focus on the specific area he wanted to heat.

Precision was indeed a firebender's best weapon; however, precision was one of the hardest disciplines to master. Precise bending without vision was very difficult indeed. As he worked, he concentrated on keeping the flame tight, white hot like a blowtorch. Even then, the metal around the spot began to get really hot.

Soon it grew seriously uncomfortably hot in the tight confines. "You okay?" he asked Jet, aware that the earthbender would be much less tolerant of the heat than he would.

When there was no answer from his fellow prisoner, Zuko decided that enough was enough. Either the lock would break or he'd have to stop before Jet died of heat exhaustion. He took another deep breath and kicked out at the door with both feet.

He felt something give and the door opened maybe two inches, enough to let in a little light and cool air and to reveal the bent band of metal that still held the door secure. With light to see by, Zuko directed another white hot jet of flame at the metal band, softening it enough to break it with another hard kick.

Once the door stood open, cool air rushed in and Jet began to stir.

"You all right?" Zuko asked, reaching a hand down to help him to his feet.

"Sure," Jet managed to reply. "Just got a little hot there."

The two explored the small room the box had been stored in, finding a bucket of water and some food.

"Looks like we're supposed to make ourselves at home," Jet commented with a bitter laugh. The two drank gratefully, deciding that their need for water outweighed the chance it had been drugged.

"Our guards must have stepped out for a moment," Zuko surmised from the setup of the room.

"That's my guess," Jet agreed, taking in the cots and scattered personal belongings. "Most of these gangs keep their victims in a bender box or something similar so they never know where they're being held or who's got them." They looked around for their weapons, but Zuko's broadswords and Jet's black sword and dagger were nowhere to be seen.

They moved to the door, surprised to see that it had been left unlocked. Clearly, their captors did not expect them to escape the bender box.

"That's good," Zuko commented quietly, closing the door of the bender box and reshaping the lock with a jet of flame. "If they aren't expecting us to be out and about, we might be able to just walk out of here."

"I'm not leaving without my sword," Jet declared firmly, glancing up and down the long hallway that stretched past them. They seemed to be in the basement of a building if his earthbending sight could be trusted.

Up a set of stairs at the end of the hallway, they paused at a wooden doorway just long enough for Jet to feel for anyone on the other side.

Quiet.

They opened the door and saw that they'd entered a large kitchen area. A pot of some kind of stew simmered on the stove.

The stone floor of the kitchen gave way to wooden floors as they passed into a hallway, and Jet was reduced to listening and watching for pursuers. The hallway was lavishly decorated, if a bit garish in its choice of color and materials.

Zuko heard the sound of heavy footsteps approaching and pulled Jet with him through the nearest doorway. Jet paused at the doorway with one ear on the wooden panel, listening for the steps to pass. Once the footsteps faded, he took a few steps backward into the room, his eyes fairly popping at the decorations.

The room was draped in what had once been luxurious velvets of gold, green, and red. Ornate mirrors hung everywhere, their glass faded with age. Paintings decorated the walls, but the subject matter was—shall we say—explicit in its depiction of male/female relationships.

"Zuko," he began, as he glanced around the room. "I think we're in a brothel."

A giggle behind him made him turn around to see a gigantic bed where five young ladies in various states of undress lounged provocatively.

Zuko just looked back at him, his expression blank. "Do you think?" he asked dryly.

(AN: Sorry it has taken so long to update—last week was crazy busy! But, hey, I'm back on track now!)