Where Words Fail

Book 2: Escaping Ba Sing Se

Chapter 6: The Creed: "Don't mess with skunk bears"

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This story is a fan fiction - nothing more, nothing less. It has been made purely for entertainment purposes, and is not meant for commercial gain. Avatar: The Last Airbender and all characters, places and concepts are copyright of Nickelodeon, Michael Dante DiMartino and Bryan Konietzko. All original characters are copyright their respective owners and are used with their permission. The story has been illustrated by the talented and awesome SioUte, and this chapter's cover can be found here:

sioute(dot)deviantart(dot)com/art/WWF-2-6-133827740

SCENE DIVIDE

The Duke didn't normally curse - of all the words in the world, those were the most brutish, the most basic, and generally the least descriptive, short of racial, religious and sexual slurs (though, ironically, they painted a pretty vivid picture of the person using them). It wasn't so much a sense of purity or innocence - growing up as a Freedom Fighter usually absolved you of that sorta thing - or a fear of getting scolded by the others; it was a pet peeve, because there were so many bigger and better words you could use in their stead.

Usually.

Sometimes there just wasn't enough time to formulate a proper response, something articulate or meaningful or deep or whatever - sometimes you just had to go, to move, and your brain superheated trying to survive, and in those cases even an impressive vocabulary turned to smoldering mush. So, The Duke dropped a verbal bombshell - one of Skillet's favorites, one so virulent that he didn't need to see Pipsqueak's face to know that he'd flinched. Because, of course the cave they'd pick for their rest stop would have freaking boar-q-pines living in it! A family of them - two the size of Fire Nation tanks, territorial and pissed and breath steaming hot on his back squealing tearing at his ears and and and he wanted to pee his pants so much right now, oh spirits!

Clinging to Pipsqueak's head, The Duke leaned forward as his friend surged through the guts of the cave, doubled-back towards the entrance which was, it felt so far away now, an eternity even though he ran to get there. With every thunderous footstep the behemoth took, and with the rumbling of the two monstrosities at their heels, (a cacophony of sharp, piercing, clattering hoof beats chaining together against the narrow, musty walls of the cave) it took all his strength to keep from falling off. Pipsqueak had both satchels of food scooped up into his arms, they'd worked too hard to just leave it behind, and even at full strength he wouldn't have been able to take down one boar-q-pine, let alone two, so - so The Duke had to do something!

"Put some distance between them and us!" The Duke called, leaning in close to Pipsqueak's ear. "They're gaining!"

"Can't you peg them with exploding seeds or somethin'?" Pipsqueak cried, not bothering to mask his presence, voice cracking; it thundered and rebounded off the narrow cave walls surrounding them, and if anyone wandered outside the docked boats, they'd be able to hear the giant. This did not bode well for the two former Freedom Fighters; while the help from a more experienced Water Tribe warrior would not go unappreciated, the aqua blue satchels decorated with circular, swirling patterns the giant carried would yield the reason why he and The Duke had sought shelter in the cave to begin with.

"Because I don't wanna risk getting us hurt, too! If we get out in the clear, we can hit the water - they won't follow us!" Despite the fact that his mind rushed, blurred, thoughts bleeding together, squirming into an indecipherable mishmush, The Duke felt an edge in his voice - a sharp clarity he wished he possessed right now, but there wasn't anything, nothing coming to mind that he could successfully pin down, they just had to, had to go! "Exploding seeds'd make them angrier!"

"It might distract 'em long enough for us to make a break for it!" Pipsqueak huffed, clenching the fingers on one hand as he ran. He ducked down to avoid a low-hanging rock, skidded, and, there, the darkness giving way to quicksilver light, casting the bay in a beautiful radiance that The Duke could only glimpse at; Pipsqueak burst free of the cave's confines, the rocky shore of Chameleon Bay fencing them in. Grunting, staving off the ravenous, clawing hunger tearing at his stomach, The Duke squirmed as the giant altered his course and continued parallel to the cliff. It'd be risky, but the seeds were all they had at this point, the only thing that might work, and he could hear Pipsqueak breathing, hard and heavy and raw and, and if The Duke didn't take the risk now, then they'd both be mulch - so, so, just snake your arm down, around, yes - there, the leather pouch, bulging and weighted, tied to his belt. No time to dig for a handful, just open it up and dump the whole thing - a cascade of seeds arcing downwards, landing hard on the faces of the boar-q-pines - for a second, The Duke could even see their snouts glistening in the moonlight - and, and a series of loud, bursting clatter-pop!s rose up, like fire crackers being set off, a spray of bright sparks erupting forward, and, and -

The beasts squealed, roared, snorted - and charged, the seeds hadn't done anything, he'd been right, it just pissed them off more, and even the wind howling against his face didn't keep it from getting hot, so hot, sweat percolating on his brow, and, and he cursed again, worse than the last time. Pipsqueak jumped - had to, what? Oh, yeah, a rough patch of ground, lumpy and hard and rocky and, and it jolted The Duke, his helmet bounced and launched - it didn't soar, it just fell, upturned - and, and the spike on top, it hit one of the boar-q-pines in the eye! It squealroarsnorted again, spasmed, stumbled away for a second before regaining its footing. The helmet fell away, clattering to the ground, vanishing in the dust clouds kicked up by the monsters.

"The Duke, what happened?" Pipsqueak called, voice raw and booming and oh man, they'd be in soooo much trouble if they got caught - but even more if they didn't, it was a big lose-lose situation.

"It didn't work! Just run!"

Pipsqueak dropped his own vulgarity - which would shock The Duke later when he had the capacity for that sorta thing, because Pipsqueak never swore ever, and leaned forward even further, getting as much distance out of his sprint as he could. The smaller of the two imagined his friend's lungs burned and his stomach howling in protest, his muscles straining against the exertion. His style of fighting was big, slow, impenetrable - Jet had once compared him to one of the Fire Nation's tanks, an unstoppable behemoth impossible to throw off-balance. He had endurance, so long as he moved at his own pace. The boar-q-pines squealing at the fringes of his boots, their breath hot on The Duke's back, the cool night air burning, burning through his throat, the young former Freedom Fighter realized with a testicle-shriveling sensation that Pipsqueak wouldn't be able to keep this up.

So intent on escape, so absorbed in his friend's faltering stamina and so concerned with their safety, The Duke only realized the earth had erupted behind him seconds after it had happened; the sound of rock splitting and connecting with soft flesh struck his ears only after the fact, the vibrations working up through Pipsqueak's body. The giant stumbled, and threw his hands out, landing hard on his stomach; The Duke bounced free, finally losing his grip, the ground hard and solid and unyielding, his back and shoulders alight with raw fire, one of the food satchels rolling to a stop against his side. As he fell, a shimmering, glowing disk caught his gaze, arcing away from the fallen warriors while whipping at the air.

"Yes!" A triumphant cheer - the voice familiar to The Duke, but distantly, like hearing the notes of an old song one hasn't listened to in a few years. It lilted as the owner spoke; definitely male, and young - not a child, but it didn't bare the nicks and scars of a fully-grown warrior's. "Well, that's a little extra food to go around for everyone. Excellent Earthbending, if I do say so."

"Yeah, well. I'd say the same thing about your boomerang throw if I could see it." This voice much lighter and far more indifferent, but it wasn't so much how it was said; the word 'boomerang' caught his mind, setting the gears in motion. The Duke had only ever encountered one person who used that weapon, and combined with the voice, the picture flushed outward into existence. Tall, tan-skinned, wearing blue clothing, brown hair pulled back into a wolftail.

"Sokka!"

SCENE DIVIDE

Heart thumping in his chest, his breath short, Sokka reached one hand up into the sky and caught his boomerang, the impact dull in his palm. He relaxed his pose, the boar-q-pines - huge, spine-backed monstrosities with dripping snouts and vicious, curled tusks - no longer moving. But nearby - the people the boar-q-pines had been chasing...oh, jeez - there was no way it could be those two. Not here, not now - not so close after Lake Laogai. Nothing short of otherworldly intervention could have brought this together, and if Sokka hadn't seen Spirits with his own eyes, he'd have been inclined to dismiss them as a possibility. (Stuck in Hei Bai's hand, rushing through the forest with leaves and branches whipping at his face, calling for Aang's help...manhandled, like a kid holding their doll - well, that had been an eye-opening, pants-wetting experience.)

The only way he knew was because of Pipsqueak - the goliath of a man had a unique frame and voice, and the log sheathed on his back served as a brutal, final proof that Sokka was indeed not imagining this screwed up scenario. Somehow, two more Freedom Fighters had wandered back into his life after Jet, Smellerbee and Longshot, and - well. He had his misgivings, 'cuz it wasn't like Sokka hadn't left their forest on the best terms with the group. Things with the three in Ba Sing Se probably only worked out so well because, A/ he wasn't like his sister and could see from point A to point B without things like grudges getting in the way and B/ the situation had been so crazy-out-of-their-hands that the forced cooperation was pretty much their only option. Jet had been brainwashed, and Appa had been on the line - things couldn't have gotten more dire than that.

Unfortunately, that same pressing need to cooperate wasn't present here, and Pipsqueak and...The Duke, that's who was with him, standing up and hailing Sokka with a hand raised up over his head...they could just (try to) fight the Water Tribe warrior and Toph, even though a very definite bacon-saving had just come to pass. It'd be entirely possible, and - okay, The Duke probably wouldn't start anything, since he looked amiable enough. Of all the Freedom Fighters Sokka remembered, The Duke was the only one to have never generated some level of static with the Water Tribe teen, and maybe that would be enough to salvage this situation. Pipsqueak was the wild card.

"Man, that one's big and burly," Toph whispered, crossing her arms over her chest. "He could probably kick some serious Fire Nation tail."

"Yeah, I've seen it happen." Sokka nodded, pursing his lips.

"You know him?"

"We met once, before you joined the group. He was one of Jet's Freedom Fighters - he carries around a log and uses it as a..."

Wait.

Sokka felt a grin crawling across his face like a caterpede; he took a quick look over to Toph and murmured, "I think repaying them for stealing our food will have to wait. I just got an idea." He approached the fallen warriors, Toph sticking to his rear, her fists clenched at her sides.

"I still think we should kick their teeth in," she grumbled. Sokka thrust his free hand up into the air, waving at The Duke and his enormous companion as they struggled to their feet.

"And I think you should keep patient," Sokka shot, crossing his arms over his chest. "This inspired me."

"Oh?"

"Yeah."

"...Aren't you gonna tell me what it is?"

"Not yet," he teased, earning another punch to the shoulder. He laughed in spite of it. "Please! Business before pleasure, Lady Bei Fong. A person of your status ought to know."

She snorted, but even without looking at her, Sokka could hear the grin riding on her face alongside it. "Very well, Sir Sokka Water Tribe. Lead the way."

Even in the dark and at such a distance, Sokka could tell that The Duke was emaciated, his cheekbones accentuated under the silvered moonlight, most of the rest of his face cast into inky shadow. Still, the boy grinned - a giddy, childish smile that reminded Sokka of a certain twelve-year-old when he'd just come out of the iceberg. Whether it came from relief at seeing an old face, or at escaping a narrow brush at being gored by a boar-q-pine, Sokka planned to capitalize on the situation.

His boots scraping against the rough stone ground, Toph's bare feet padding behind him, Sokka came to a stop next to the two Freedom Fighters. Pipsqueak managed to climb up to his feet, brushing off his vest and pants, towering over the Water Tribe warrior and his Earthbending companion, chest heaving, an appreciative smile carved onto his broad face.

"Sokka," Pipsqueak said, extending a hand roughly the size of a side of ham. "Thanks fer the save."

Okay - this was very much a compromising situation. He gauged the Freedom Fighter as subtly as possible; the smile looked earnest, and Pipsqueak himself appeared to have seen better days. Sokka had seen the strained appearance of many a world traveler that simply had no idea how to get by in the wilderness, and it appeared as if these two had gotten by on luck more than anything else. Still, despite his famished appearance, Pipsqueak had girth and enough strength to crush Sokka's hand as if it were a plum...but if the idea the smaller warrior had could come to fruition, the flower needed to start blooming somewhere. He accepted Pipsqueak's hand, the older man's fingers enclosing Sokka's hand fully up to the wrist. "No problem," Sokka replied. "I hope this makes up for me trapping you and Smellerbee in those Fire Nation cages."

Pipsqueak paused, eyes going wide, boring into Sokka's - and, and, oh man, this was it, he'd have to spend the next two months nursing a broken hand...but, no. To Sokka's relief, Pipsqueak loosened his grip and heaved a deep, booming, nigh-thunderous guffaw, making his ear drums echo and rebound and thrum - a sound the Water Tribe warrior hadn't heard in almost a season by this point, and one which he found infectious enough to cause a relieved grin to spread on his face, to get The Duke and Toph laughing as well, and Sokka chuckled despite himself.

SCENE DIVIDE

Toph was a new addition to the Avatar's traveling party; she hadn't been there when Aang and the others stopped by the forest, and...well, she made The Duke fidget.

He wasn't really sure why, because once they'd been introduced, and when he and Pipsqueak apologized for stealing the Water Tribe's food, it wasn't like she'd been confrontational or intimidating. A little bummed at first, yeah, and she'd openly admitted to being disappointed in not having more butt to kick aside from the boar-q-pines, but once they'd sat down and started chatting, that mood had disappeared. So it wasn't scared-fidgeting, and if it wasn't that, then it could only be nerves-fidgeting. But why? He couldn't figure it out, and if he wasn't so relieved at surviving the close brush with two cheesed-off boar-q-pines, the adrenaline rush fading and wearing down, then it'd probably irritate him.

Probably.

Drawing his knees up to his chest, he forcibly kept his eyes on Sokka as he paced back and forth in the space between themselves and the small, improvised grill he had set up, a thoughtful frown riding on his jaw, his brow furrowed. It was better than, than staring at her, how she leaned backwards on one elbow, legs splayed, the dirt caking the soles of her feet, a finger working away at her ear, because that made his heart jump and whistle and do things he hadn't really ever experienced before. The sound of water sloshing up against the sides of the boat would occasionally drown out the crackling fire and sizzling meat, but never for long.

Actual food. Cooked food, boar-q-pine meat, thick and crackling and poignant and tantalizing, grabbing him by the nose and leading him along, like one of those cartoon gag scrolls you'd read as a kid. His mouth started to water all over again, only this time the thought of eating meat had planted itself very firmly in reality, only minutes away and without having to be all stealthy to avoid getting caught, without the guilt pressing in on all sides even though absconding with the Water Tribe food had been out of necessity.

"So, let me get this straight," The Duke murmured, his helmet glistening on the rocky shore beside him, freshly cleaned of boar-q-pine blood and eye-goop. The cool nighttime air rain its fingers through his short-cropped, black hair, flush and stark against the heat still working out of his face, refreshing. "The Fire Nation managed to get past Ba Sing Se's walls?"

"Yeah," Sokka said, scowling. "The princess of the Fire Nation, Azula, disguised herself and managed to sneak inside. In the fight to save the city, Aang took a lightning bolt to the back; he fell into a coma, and we haven't gotten him to wake up."

The Duke took a moment to chew on this information (as well as the greens Sokka had provided for himself and Pipsqueak; while lacking in flavor, they at least slaked the craving for something heavier, like bread, or the cooking, pending, numptuous meat). He frowned, gaze drifting towards the distant horizon - towards the shifting, glittering surface of the ocean.

"Omashu fell, too," he murmured. "We were supposed to go there - make new lives for ourselves. After the...after Jet flooded Gaipan...we kinda lost hope in him. We left the forest, left the Freedom Fighters, but by the time we arrived, Fire Nation flags hung from the walls surrounding the city."

Sokka snapped his fingers. "Did you see a statue of Fire Lord Ozai being built?"

"No - we didn't get very close." The Duke hiked his brows and glanced back over to Sokka. "You were there too?"

"We had to try and find Aang an Earthbending teacher. He's friends with King Bumi, and...well, things didn't work out as well as they could have."

The Duke sighed. "That's the story of our life right now. We've been going from one village to the next ever since, working odd jobs to get by; the Fire Nation was never that far behind us, though, so we kept running."

"Eventually, we hoped to get to Ba Sing Se ourselves," Pipsqueak added, slurping down a mouthful of the dried greens. "Longshot and Smellerbee were on their way there, last we checked - we figured we'd try to hook up. Sorta reunite the old gang. It wasn't like we could crawl back to the forest with our tails tucked between our legs."

"We wouldn't have been welcome there, anyway," The Duke murmured, leaning forward and prodding at the remainder of his greens with his chopsticks. "It's probably for the better that it worked out this way."

"Why can't you go back to the forest?" Toph asked, her voice light - conversational. The Duke could hear the faintest traces of indecision riding on her voice...but why, he couldn't tell, and rather than agonize himself over it (and so he could keep up the flow of the conversation), he opted to ignore it for the time being.

Taking a deep breath through his nose - savoring the scent of fresh, cooking food - The Duke glanced over to Sokka and asked, "Do you remember the entire Core group of Freedom Fighters?"

"Mostly. I know there were six of you, but I can only remember five."

"Sneers is the last one." The Duke sighed. "He never spoke that much around you and he didn't go on a lot of missions with Jet. After - after Jet...blew up the dam, tried to kill all those people...we kind of had a falling out in the Core Group."

Sokka nodded, a slow, solemn motion that didn't quite feel right to The Duke - as if Sokka were already privy to that information, or at least part of it. He wanted to examine why, because between him and Toph, something was definitely up, but...the story just poured out now, spilling forth like a...a broken dam, and he couldn't think of a way to plug it up again.

"After you guys left, us, Smellerbee and Longshot decided that the Freedom Fighters had lost sight of their original purpose. We decided we were ready for new lives without fighting, without the Fire Nation, and only met with discord agreeing on where we ought to go; we wanted to head to Omashu, which was a faster journey, while they preferred trekking to Ba Sing Se under the assumption that the Fire Nation wouldn't be able to invade it."

He drew another breath. Sokka moved over to the grill of meat and started to withdraw the contents with a long, razor-tipped fork, glancing occasionally at The Duke to signify that he was still paying attention. He began dicing the meat and dividing it into four bowls half-full of broth and noodles.

"Jet and Sneers were the only two who thought the Freedom Fighters ought to continue as it stood, but their ideals of what to do next were very different." The Duke shook his head. "They fought - a long, loud, brutal fight that ended with Sneers having a broken nose and Jet getting bruised up. We don't know where Jet went after that, but we didn't really have the chance to find out. Sneers took over as leader of the Hong Ye Freedom Fighters, and told us all to 'get the hell out and to take Jet's old ways with us'. We haven't bothered going back since."

"You're pretty articulate for a kid," Toph noted, leaning back on her hands and crooking her head to one side. "What are you - six?"

"Eight and two seasons." The answer came back oozing defiance (because of the nerves, there wasn't any other explanation), and Toph smirked.

"So." Sokka - setting one bowl in front of each warrior and taking the last for himself - sat cross-legged next to Toph, his voice prodding, poking for some sort of answer. "Does that mean you guys wouldn't mind helping us fight the Fire Nation?"

Pipsqueak picked up his bowl, his massive hands enveloping most of the wooden kitchenware, blowing away the steam rising up from the contents. He cast a glance over to The Duke, hiking an eyebrow.

The younger ex-Freedom Fighter had spent enough time around Longshot to understand an unspoken question when he saw one; was a non-combatant life really cut out for them? Did they want to turn their back on what had been their ideal fresh start, to try again and see what happened? It wasn't like they were fighting for Jet's cause, unquestionably whacking Fire Nation thugs and wiping out innocent people.

The Duke cast a glance down to his side - to his helmet, to the emptied sack of exploding seeds, to his pike with the glistening, curved blade and the worn, red handle. He carried all this stuff out of nostalgia or self-defense, and hadn't ever expected to actually seriously use them again...but...he glanced back up to Pipsqueak and nodded.

The giant shrugged and started fishing around in his bowl with his chopsticks. "Sure, why not? A peaceful life hasn't worked out for us anyway, right, The Duke?"

The Duke felt himself wilt a little on the inside, but gave a small nod. Verbally acknowledging it put too much weight into the subject. "I don't think I can fight as furiously as Jet would have had me do, but...sure."

Pipsqueak grunted in satisfaction - The Duke saw his eyes roll into the back of his head, and, okay, enough talking, his belly said, time to eat. He reached for the chopsticks in his lap and snapped them apart in his free hand (a talent many a Freedom Fighter had been jealous of) and dipped them into the soup, pinching a chunk of meat between them and popping it into his mouth.

Ohhhh, man. Succulent, mouth-watering, juicy - a little gamey, but it still had enough chew to it, the taste of pork splashing over his tongue, and, and, and. The last time he'd tasted something this satisfying had been that Ba Sing Se curry that was meant for Pipsqueak. His tastebuds danced, sang, a heavenly choir of delectable, meaty win.

"Mmmm."

Toph chuckled and smirked. "Snoozles, I think you have two new fans."

The Duke grinned as Sokka crooked his head and crossed his arms over his chest, letting a grin play across his face. "What can I say? I can be a pretty good cook."

The young ex-Freedom Fighter would beg to differ (he was nothing compared to Skillet or even Spatula), but hey, he was feeding them.

Silence settled over the quartet as they sunk into eating euphoria; The Duke had forgotten what it was like to actually be full, your belly heavy and head bordering on drowsiness, a fog tugging down over your eyes...

"So, you were in Ba Sing Se," Pipsqueak said, breaking the reverie with a wide grin. "I've heard it's a big place, but didja run into Bee and Longshot by chance?"

A strange, conflicted expression flitted across both Sokka and Toph's faces, only briefly, but the motions were obvious enough for The Duke to see - the latter grimacing while the former seemed to sag just a bit. It was enough to raise the red flag The Duke had been trying to turn his back to, and he suddenly felt himself sitting up a lot straighter.

"What happened?" He asked, voice low and sharp. Sokka's eyes drifted up to meet his - so sad, those blue eyes, so tired, and The Duke's fingertips became numb from looking at them. He couldn't feel the rough, hot wooden bowl cupped in his hands, or smell the freshly-cooked meat or the salty spray of the ocean - only Sokka's gaze seemed to register.

"We crossed paths with them...and Jet. According to Smellerbee, he'd gone with them when they left for Ba Sing Se; I don't know the specifics, but Jet got caught up with the Dai Li, a local police force in Ba Sing Se that worked to keep the war hushed up." Sokka looked away. "Things got...out of control. The Dai Li brainwashed him, sent him to try and lead us out of the city on a wild Appa chase, but Smellerbee and Longshot bumped into us and we were able to find out the truth. He was killed by their leader, Long Feng, while we were fighting to save Appa from them. I'm sorry."

Perhaps it was because part of him suspected it when Sokka and Toph had started acting dodgy...or perhaps it was because The Duke figured Jet had too much fire in him for his own good (which was one hell of an irony), but hearing it in words only made the world feel a little heavier around him, bringing down the same verbal weight Pipsqueak had earlier. Jet may have been...well, a jerk, yeah, kinda, and he might have let his hate for the Fire Nation cloud his judgment to the point where bystanders were an acceptable casualty to see their enemy purged...but, he had still been their leader, their friend, a surrogate father figure for The Duke, and...and, oh man. He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose; maybe once it sunk in, the blow would have more impact, but...

"It's okay - I'm sure you did everything you could to help him." The Duke kept his voice steady, but his breath felt tight in his chest, as if someone had wrapped their hand around his lungs and had begun squeezing. He opened his eyes and glanced at Pipsqueak; the giant had deflated somewhat, sitting hunched over his bowl with sorrow etched onto his face, his eyes focusing on nothing despite being turned to the ground below them. There were so many things he wanted to ask - had Jet gone out fighting? Had he done good in his last moments? Had he made up for his mistakes...? But, but, none of them could come to surface, there were too many thoughts to chase, like, like lightning bugs buzzing around in a jar, and, and there was only one that really managed to struggle up through the cacophony, one that needed asking. Without looking at Sokka, The Duke murmured, "What about...what about Smellerbee and Longshot?"

Sokka drew a slow breath. "We don't know what happened to the others. They didn't want to come with us...they stayed behind with Jet instead. When we left them, they were still alive - but the Dai Li collapsed the tunnels by the time we came back. I don't know if they made it out in time."

This seemed to shake Pipsqueak out of his trance; he brought his beady gaze up to Sokka and said, "So Longshot an' Bee are...?"

"I'm sorry," the young warrior said again, his voice hushed. "We had to save Appa, and they wouldn't leave Jet's side."

The chill of the air became sharp and raw, and the world pulsated, shuddering down The Duke's spine and in the depths of his ears; he only distantly felt the bowl leave his hands, the broth and meat splattered against the ground, glistening in the moonlight. This time, the news hit home, his eyes stinging, his mouth curling down into a deep frown he couldn't, couldn't stop or control; he reached over and grabbed Pipsqueak's arm, because even sitting down, it felt like the ground itself would tilt and buck him off, sending him tumbling into some bone-crushing abyss. Memory flitted through The Duke's mind - pictures of a cold spring night much like this one, the shackles around his wrists and ankles heavy, thoughts of his ill mother haunting him - then the ground, rough on the skin of his hands, cutting into his palms - a searing heat from above, a man yelling - and then Pipsqueak, landing hard on the ground, followed by Smellerbee - so mothering, despite her boyish appearance, that The Duke could tell she was a girl, he could tell...

"The Duke," Pipsqueak murmured, resting a hand on the boy's head. The Duke sniffled and glanced up at Pipsqueak, vision blurred, ears burning red; the giant fixed his friend with a comforting grin. "It'll be okay. Smellerbee an' Longshot are survivors."

The Duke nodded, keeping his mouth pressed shut; he knew that if his lips parted, his breath would hitch and he'd start to cry in earnest.

"We have a duty to Aang now - we gotta do what we can to stop the war," he continued, his baritone voice soothing The Duke's sorrow. "One day - when we've won - we'll go lookin' for 'em, okay?"

Another meager nod, and his vision blurred again; Pipsqueak drew The Duke up into an engulfing hug, swallowed by his massive arms, pressing The Duke's face into his shoulder. The giant's warmth flooded the boy, protecting him, trying to flush away reality - but it made the pain more real, too, grounding him and driving the fact home that he would never see Jet again, and the same was likely true for the wild-haired girl that had saved his life three years previously and the archer who, though silent, had immense presence in the Freedom Fighters.

Something wet and warm landed on the back of his ear; he craned his neck and saw tiny rivulets running down Pipsqueak's face. "It'll be okay, The Duke," he whispered. "I promise."

The Duke felt his breath catching - his lips parting - he threw his arms around Pipsqueak's neck and buried his face in the giant's shoulder again in an attempt to mask the sound of his crying before it could happen, because he knew now that he'd started, it would keep flowing and flowing, surging forward and outward and (overflowing), and, and, and, he didn't think he could ever run out...

SCENE DIVIDE

Elsewhere

"I think I like them enough to name them," Smellerbee said, motioning to the two ostrich horses, who had fallen asleep next to each other with their beaks tucked under their wings. She reached over to the nearest one and stroked its neck, her fingers running between the soft down and a smile flitted across her face. "They've grown on me."

Longshot acknowledged the statement with a distant nod, keeping his focus on the map splayed out in front of him. With night set in, the only light came from the fire set up in the center of their campsite, casting a flickering, orange glow across the worn, folded parchment before him. They'd had to stop in the middle of the planes - no cover aside from the single, threadbare tree he leaned back against, so the firelight stretched its fingers out, away, into the seeping darkness before being swallowed by it completely. Being out in the open like this...he hated it. Even up to this point, he'd caught himself glancing over his shoulder - as if trying to sniff out an enemy, a Dai Li agent, tailing them, following them only so he could get the jump and drag them back to Ba Sing Se. An enemy that wasn't there, that wouldn't be there, because beyond the walls of the city, they couldn't care less of what happened.

He lowered the brim of his hat just enough to obscure Smellerbee; looking at her in isolation, as they had been over the past two days, had been getting increasingly difficult. Even with the fire casting shadows on her face, and the crescent moon glistening overhead to accentuate them, just making eye-contact had become a...a chore, a task. His head became heavy and his vision would double, as if the very thought physically repelled him.

Without the pressing need to escape Ba Sing Se weighing on his shoulders, other issues had risen up in Longshot's mind, and he was surprised how the bulk of it came to rest on Smellerbee. The first of these problems came from a sudden lack of self-confidence; he could hit a moving target the size of a fist with frightening accuracy (as he had done several times under Lake Laogai's surface, sniping the gloves of the Dai Li as they flew through the air), yet saving his leader from death - and saving himself and Smellerbee from that insufferable prison - proved to be an impossible target, like puncturing a ray of light with an arrow, or using a bow that had not been strung.

The second issue took form in his choice to speak - to finalize Aang's departure from the catacombs.

"Go. We'll take care of him. He's our leader."

Longshot had sworn to himself long ago that he would never speak again; words had lost their power, their substance, in the face of what had happened to his home. Despite his vow, though, he did speak, verbalizing himself only when spoken word regained its missing weight; telling the Avatar's group to run - find Appa and escape while they still could - felt like a mistake, like he had condemned Jet to death by allowing the words to flutter away (like the crimson leaves of Hong Ye, disappearing to the earthen floor so far below).

Third, and most devastating of all: his lack of faith in Smellerbee. She had promised - promised! - that the two would escape Lake Laogai together. The moment circumstances spiraled out of control - the moment it looked like that vow would go unfulfilled, just as his vow to remain silent had - he felt...abandoned. Betrayed, as if Smellerbee had defied her word intentionally. As if she hadn't been caught up in the chaos just like he had.

Then the audacity, on his part, to believe that she couldn't come back from that brink, to complete him again! Shame was indeed a wicked mistress, one he had endured multiple times in the past but rarely at this magnitude. As a matter of fact, only on one other occasion in his lifetime did regret hound him so persistently, like a howling, pungent hogmonkey clinging to his shoulders that refused to let go.

A rift had torn the earth between them - one that swallowed all the things that made the pair work so well together. The worst part about it was that Smellerbee knew it was there too; she could sense it just as well as Longshot, and she probably knew that he knew, too. Perhaps she didn't know what spurned it, but she was at least aware of its existence.

"I mean - maybe we shouldn't do that in case we decide to get rid of them." The addendum broke through Longshot's train of thought, making him realize that in focusing on the map, he had really lost focus on his surroundings altogether. Her voice carried a strange, unfamiliar awkwardness to it; that action, the warble and stutter, her hesitant tone...Longshot's eyes shot wide open and he had to clench his jaw to keep it from going slack. The exact scope of the chasm that yawned between him and her and her and him still couldn't be determined, but this one-sided conversation gave him a general idea.

She was trying to douse the awkwardness by filling his silence.

"Still - if we did name them, we would need to give them Freedom Fighter names, I think," she continued when he failed once again to acknowledge her, faltering. "You know, because we're restarting the group, and all. It's just a matter of coming up with good names, not sappy ones."

Longshot tried to bring his gaze up to Smellerbee, to tell her that he agreed...but the invisible weight settled on his neck, and he felt his eyes scrunching shut. He cursed, silently, before rolling up the map and clambering to his feet. He turned, stretched, and started heading towards the tent set up a few meters away, avoiding looking in Smellerbee's direction.

"Longshot, don't ignore me."

The mute archer froze, his head crooked to one side; he heard the ground crunching under Smellerbee's feet as the swordswoman stood up, crossing the dirt and grass, closing the distance between them. He didn't - couldn't move, his body frozen in stone, even as she came so close behind him that he could feel the warmth cast from her body; her breath came out in hot wisps that lighted against the nape of his neck before fading into the cool spring night, making him shudder.

"Something happened," she whispered, her hoarse voice hushed, but powerful - loud enough to deafen, it felt. One of her hands came to rest on his shoulder, long, thin fingers covering the ball of the joint and ghosting over the fabric. "I don't know what, but we aren't going about solving it the right way. We've got a long trip ahead of us and I don't think we'll survive if we've got this - this wall between us."

Longshot drew a deep breath and felt his shoulders heave - not much. Just the slightest bit, but it was enough to make Smellerbee withdraw her hand quickly - as if stung by a buzzard wasp. "It's - it's something I did?"

The archer sighed, shrugged, and tried - oh Spirits knew how he tried - to look at her, to see her, but gravity won this small-yet-enormous battle. He looked up at the stars instead, trying to think of something - something to say, to tell her, to abate her of her concern and confusion, but...but, nothing, his mind stuttered and popped and hissed, white noise. Sometimes, even the heft of unspoken sentiment isn't enough to make up the difference where words fail.

"Hmph. Jerk," she grumbled, not bothering to hide the hurt in her voice. "I thought we were closer than this, Longshot! I thought we were in it together - no matter what?"

He shook his head; he wasn't so sure of that, not anymore. Things had just...they'd gone nuts, they'd lost control and still hadn't managed to take it back.

Smellerbee made a noise that sounded startlingly like an infuriated cat squirrel, and Longshot could tell without looking that she'd bunched her shoulders up and her hair stood on end. "What do you mean, 'you're not sure anymore?' You - you idiot! If that's the case, then why did you agree that we needed to intervene with Jet in Ba Sing Se? If that's the case, why did you fight after Jet died?" Her voice became shrill, her fury aimless and unmasked, and Longshot winced, his mouth curling into a frown. "If that's the fucking case, Longshot, then why did you bother resuscitatin' me in the first place?"

What - what to say, what to solve this problem, it wasn't her fault that she'd almost drowned, but, but how dare she have left him alone, no Jet, no Smellerbee, no Pipsqueak or The Duke or Sneers or Skillet, nobody, just a mute archer with only himself to turn to! Family in the face of nothing else - that was part of the Creed, and even after they'd left Hong Ye it carried the same power, the pure, undeniable truth, but...but what if that family, the one unbound by blood, what if that vanished, too? Pried away from him, leaving him stripped bare with only himself, and he couldn't constitute a whole family with no one else to turn to. Think, think, try to bring some resolution and peace to her, to bridge the gap, to, to, to -

Smellerbee's hand tightened on his shoulder, fingers digging into his skin, making his bones click; she whirled him around, the air whistling against his face, and, and, white round lumpy ridged rushing right for him -

His cheek exploded with heat and throbbing and ow, little jolts of lightning scrawling on, under, through his skin, his cheek bone alight with fire. It wasn't the first time she had ever hit him; sometimes, if he did something that upset her (rare as the occasion stood and not wholly undeserved), he'd find himself on the receiving end of a good sock; when Smellerbee laughed - a throaty, joyful sound that betrayed the fact that she was a child beneath that war paint, after all - she would often lash out and hit whoever sat nearby as a gesture of kinship, and as Longshot often made it a point to sit beside her, he often found a mirthful night ending with a tender arm. And when she was younger - when they were younger - sometimes they'd break down into small bouts of fisticuffs, either for play or because they needed to settle an argument and she, ironically being more verbose, lacked the proper articulation to make her point without swinging a tiny, grime-coated fist.

Each wallop contained a little spark of memory and warmth; this time, though, Longshot felt an unusual rage overflowing inside him. He stumbled back, catching himself before he could fall; he brought one hand up to his cheek, and it felt warm and sticky (dry, though, no blood) and hot and, and, an intrusion, a violation of the status quo. In his shock, his anger, he finally managed to make eye contact with the girl; the instant he did, though, he knew, deep in his heart, that he'd made a mistake in doing so now.

She could see the fury in his eyes, the quick burst of fire directed at her, at her, the only person in the world who could understand him so easily; beady eyes bordered by mascara shrunk, flickered, but she didn't tear her gaze from his. Her mouth curled into a frown so deep that the twin sets of crimson war paint vanished beneath the unruly strands of her fringe; teeth bared, eyes set into a narrow glower, Smellerbee met Longshot's burning anger with the blistering heat that made her who she was, that turned her into a vicious, wicked animal on the battlefield and had forged her brash personality.

"I don't know what's gotten into you lately, but you're insane if you think I'm lettin' you sulk like this." Bee spoke only in whispers now, each word, each syllable a ghost rushing through Longshot's torso and causing his heart to ache, his ears to flush, his cheek to throb. "That's why I think it's something to do with me, because you never not tell me what's wrong. Longshot, what did I do that got you so wound up?"

The archer drew a slow, deep breath and, and, he wanted to, to shout, to yell at her for punching him, she hadn't needed to resort to something so carnal, but - no, calm down, don't sink down to the same level, you've never had to throw a serious punch in your life, and don't do it now. He relaxed his pose, crossed his arms over his chest, ignoring the pulsating sting in his cheek, and fixed Smellerbee with a solemn gaze; the young swordswoman scoffed and finally looked away, crossing her arms over her chest and glaring sidewaysedly at their campfire. It wasn't her; it was a problem he had to work out with himself.

"Okay - something wrong with you, then. Either way, it doesn't make a difference." She sighed and let her arms drop, fists clenched. "Look, I'm sorry I hit you. It's okay that you've got something bothering you...but don't take it out on me, okay?"

Longshot felt his brow sagging, his body quivering as if made of jelly - ready to collapse under its own weight. Putting it like that - oh, Spirits, he hadn't even thought of it like that, and, and, her perspective gained another ice-cold layer of depth to it, and he was sorry for ignoring her, he should have been paying more attention, he -

Smellerbee turned away from him entirely, craning her head back so she could look at the stars. Roles now reversed, Longshot watched the swordswoman's hair bob as she spoke, a gentle breeze plucking through her thick mop. "I'll always be there for you, Longshot," she murmured, her voice rising up to greet the stars. "It's been that way for the past six years, and I don't plan on letting it change in the future. When you've got your issues sorted out, you can always come talk to me about them, okay? I promise."

The archer could do little more than nod, but already the familiar weight of guilt had begun setting in again, now that the flames of rage had been quenched. Despite the cool of night, the breeze caressing his face and soothing his cheek, the scent of the plains and the more musky odor of the ostrich horses filled the air, clogging their silence, suffocating them. Awkwardly, wordlessly - verbally and otherwise - He turned and ducked into the tent for the night, the leather flaps fluttering shut behind him, blocking out the fire and engulfing him in darkness.

SCENE DIVIDE

Chameleon Bay

Sokka stood on the deck of the boat, his elbows propped up on the railing so he could lean back without falling over. Clouds had started to settle in, obscuring the stars...but the moon, that moon, her, it pierced the veil, refusing to hide, as if her will was too strong for anything else. It had to have been; she'd been such a powerful, yet gentle person in life, and it wouldn't surprise him if that part of her lived on even now.

"Well, at least I know what I'm doing now." He murmured, exhaustion seeping in behind his eyes, his eyelids threatening to slide shut and not open again for days on end. The night's events - the rushed, harried fight against the boar-q-pines, the utter mind-blow of encountering two more Freedom Fighters so soon after Lake Laogai, of telling them about their former leader's death...they weighed him down, just like the circumstances surrounding Aang, and whether or not the war could still be won without him...he was just so tired, and sleep would be a welcome departure from this stuffy, angsty norm he'd had to build around himself. He hated angst. "All that's left is to bring the idea to the other warriors. I think they'll flow with it."

"Good to hear." Toph sidled up beside him, her bare feet padding against the wooden planks of the deck. She leaned forward on the rail beside him, her head bowed down. Sokka gave a sideways glance at her and realized that she was trying to mask the fact that she clutched the wooden rail hard enough to make her knuckles turn white, and opted to say nothing about it. "But you haven't even told me what it is yet and I feel like I'm missing out on an opportunity to make fun of you."

Sokka grinned, but it felt empty - he hated it, being so somber wasn't good for him, just like Toph had said earlier. "It's a great idea, if I do say so myself. Without the aid of Ba Sing Se's army, we're going to need to come up with some capable warriors to stand against the Fire Nation on Day of Black Sun."

"Duh."

"So, I figured - what better place to check than our own resume? We know a lot of fighters from our time traveling with Aang, a ton of which we met before you joined the group. Seeing Pipsqueak and The Duke reminded me about that, and I think it'll be the next big step in our invasion plan." Sokka kicked one leg back and thunked the toe of his boot against the deck, crooking one eyebrow at the ocean spanning out ahead of them. "We'll have to do a little searching - I'm not entirely sure how we'll go about it just yet - but if we look up some of those people and enlist 'em, then we'll be able to make our own hodge-podge army. I figure we could try to hunt down guys like The Boulder, the Swampbenders, Haru and his dad - "

"Who?"

"Sorry." Sokka brought one hand to the back of his head and rubbed it, fixing her with a sheepish grin (one he realized, too late, that she couldn't see). "But Pipsqueak and The Duke are just two of the people we've met."

"Speaking of those two...?"

"Asleep." Sokka felt himself slumping, the smell of saltwater rising up to greet him. "They were pretty tired. Took Jet, Smellerbee and Longshot pretty hard, you know?"

"Yeah. I guess that whole group was pretty close. Almost like a family...which is weird, because it's not like they're...you know, related." Toph's voice fell an octave, and Sokka saw a frown creasing her face. "I...I don't know what it's like to lose somebody that close."

"I do." The older warrior drew a deep breath through his nose and let it out in a rush. "A while ago, when my mother died...but, it's so far in the past that it's hard to remember. Besides, it's thanks to the split Jet made that we have the start of our new invasion force. All we can do now is wait for the time to come and hope Aang wakes up before it happens."

Where Words Fail

Book Two: Escaping Ba Sing Se

End