Prompt: Seasons (May 28)

Rating: M

Warning: mental illness, allusions to institutional abuse

Word Count: 1074

Notes: Final in series of "Modern," "Protection," and "Promise."

Seasons

Jet spots her at the end of the pier, off-center, hands spread wide on the rail and head bent towards the water.

All fucking day they've been looking—everybody assigned a section of town, with Smellerbee and Longshot making regular trips between for updates. It was hard as hell to get Zuko to stay put—of the two, Jet reminded him, the cops were more likely to recognize the runaway missing half his face—but when his uncle and that asshole cousin agreed to join the hunt, he'd finally nodded and sat back down at the kitchen table, ash-white and clutching an empty cigarette pack in one hand.

Jet picked the waterfront for himself and gave everyone else a couple of blocks to comb. This part of the boardwalk is empty, like he'd hoped—factory down the coast keeps killing all the fish, and the whole place smells like a fucking chemical toilet until you reach the water. Jet was just sauntering along, hands shoved in his pockets, grinning, spare cigarette safe behind his ear, when he saw her. Of fucking course.

She'll hear the wood creak when he reaches the pier, and he wants to give her the chance to run. So he comes up slow and stops at the concrete's edge.

"Mai," he calls, and she doesn't move. He knows it's her by the hood, pulled up like always, a few wisps of long black hair escaping the edges and whipping around in the sharp wind. "Hey, Mai!"

Nothing. He walks up, not too fast, and almost reaches for her shoulder—but thinks better of it, at the last second, and leans up against the rail beside her.

"You missed the turn," he says. "Hospital's back up the highway."

"Why would I want to go back there?"

"I dunno. Why would you?"

"I don't know either," she says softly, as the waves snap back beneath them. "I was asking you."

She squeezes her fingers around the rail and leans forward a little more, thin shoes slipping down from her heels. Jet pulls the cigarette from behind his ear, eager for something to do. He hates being out here like this—out alone, without his backup or a single fucking clue what he's doing.

Mai spares him a quick, flickering glance.

"Bring one for me?"

"Fuck no," Jet says, digging a pack from the pocket hidden in the lining of his jacket. He taps one out and hands it over, enough of a gentleman to light it tip-to-tip with his. "You read that in a book, right?"

"What's that?"

"Cryptic shit. I was asking you. Crazy people act like that in books and movies—you're just playing the part 'cause it's—I dunno, convenient?"

"Fuck you."

"No thanks."

She laughs.

"They brought us here. Sometimes, they'd put us in normal clothes and trot us out somewhere—like a reward but..."

She blows out a perfect ring of smoke.

"Cage like that follows you everywhere."

"Even out here?" Jet ventures, and Mai flicks ash into the churning waters.

"Last winter. He was standing here—I was standing there. Offered me a cigarette I didn't really want. He was trying to trip memory, like this broken mirror of when we first met."

"Poetic. It work?"

"Of course not," Mai scoffs. "Nothing ever worked before."

She rubs her arms.

"But nobody ever tried, either. I'd leave, I'd come back, and nothing ever changed. Felt like there was no one who noticed I was gone."

Jet sighs, his cigarette finished.

"Look, let's get going before someone sees you and calls the cops."

He turns to leave, and she doesn't follow—she takes a minute more, squinting out into the water.

"I don't want to go back," she says, and her hands fall from the rail.

He matches her pace on the way—half his usual speed, and it feels like a leisurely goddamn stroll. But the cops must all be on break, because it's empty streets all the way back to the industrial park.

"You said before," Jet says, pulling Mai to a stop. They're still a few blocks out, and the factory won't have an angle on this view. More than enough of an exit. "At the pier. Never worked before. You remember something?"

"Pieces," she admits. "I thought it was just part of the withdrawal—hallucinations, you know? Sometimes it's like there's no context. Like someone showing you pictures in a book that you can't read."

She shoves her hands in her pockets and stares at the ground.

"I remember the first day he came—and I thought, here's one that's not dead yet. I don't know why I picked him. I'd made friends before but...but they all left. I always ended up alone. There was nothing to remember, so I told myself I didn't miss it."

She bites her lip.

"They're not going to take us back?"

"Nah," Jet confirms. "I might hate his fucking guts, but Lu Ten ain't like that. Neither is Zuko's uncle. They're—they're good people. They'll take care of you two."

She leads the rest of the way—speeding up so that he almost has to jog to keep pace. Someone saw them coming: the factory doors are flung wide, and Zuko is pacing around a puddle in the yard.

"Mai! I'm sorry, I—we'll go, okay? We'll get out of here. I'm sorry—I'm so sorry."

"Zuko—"

"They won't take us back—I told Uncle, and he's gonna give us some money and we can go, tonight, get out of here and start somewhere else, and I'm sorry we stayed so long—"

"Zuko."

She takes his face firmly between her hands and kisses him quiet.

"I'm sorry I ran off," Mai says. "I panicked."

He's still holding the empty cigarette pack in his hand—and he's looking only at Mai. Nothing else exists for them. Jet hears footsteps behind and glances to see Lu Ten and Smellerbee approaching, and they hang back as well.

"Let's go inside, okay? We'll talk."

And she takes his hand and leads him inside like nothing has happened—like nothing at all has changed. Lu Ten follows them, but Jet lights his last cigarette and leans against the factory brick, blinking back tears.

Smellerbee leans up against him.

"Eviction?" she asks gently.

"Think so," Jet replies, trying to sound detached about it. "Past time, anyway. Zuko doesn't live here anymore."

"I'm sorry, Jet."

"I'm not. I'm not."

They wait outside until the rain starts up, and then head in together, to say goodbye.