Joint Operations

by LizBee

Notes: Written for AttackFish in the 2013 White Lotus Lunar New Year Exchange.

There was a body in a junkyard on the very edge of the city. Murdered elsewhere, Beifong declared, then disposed of here, near the ports. In pieces. His tattoos suggested Triad connections, but the shock glove on his hand suggested something more complex.

"Detective Tranh," said Beifong, "you'll work with the United Forces Military Police on this."

That was Iroh's cue.

"Lieutenant Shu," he said, "partner up with Detective Tranh. For the duration of this mission, you can consider her your commanding officer."

Shu straightened her spine and said, "Yes, sir!" And anyone who didn't know her would believe she was happy about the assignment.

Well, the photographs would look good, military and police officers shaking hands as they prepared to work together to restore justice and order to Republic City. Iroh said a few words to the newspapermen about the great honour of being able to assist the police in their time of need, while Beifong glowered at his side, looking about as needy as a platypus-bear.

She spoke only to reiterate, for the third time that day, that she was present only as a civilian consultant, at the request of the Council, until the position of police chief could be filled once more.

The crowd scattered after that, leaving Tranh and Shu, and the enlisted men Shu had chosen to assist her, to set up lights and begin their work. It was getting cold. Beifong shoved her hands deep into the pockets of her coat and said, "The reporters will have to hurry if they want to get into the early editions."

"They've probably already missed the deadline."

"I can't decide if that's good or bad."

"For us?"

"Might be reassuring, letting the people see some actual cooperation happening. Especially after yesterday."

Behind them, Shu and Tranh were arguing. Iroh hesitated, but Beifong just said, "Let it go. They have to work this out themselves."

"Need a ride?"

"Thanks."

Repairs on the city's power stations were still underway, and lots of streets were still completely dark. Here and there, Iroh caught glimpses of his soldiers, out on patrol.

Beifong stirred, her armour clinking.

"Your Lieutenant Shu," she said, "she ever seen a dead body before today?"

"This will be her third murder investigation."

"I got the impression she doesn't play well with others."

"I'm beginning to think that goes for the entire Republic City Police Force."

He'd meant it as a jibe, and regretted it instantly, but to his surprise, Beifong gave a short, sharp laugh.

"It's getting late," she said. "You want to get a drink?"

She directed him to a place a couple of blocks from police headquarters, down an alley so narrow that Iroh abandoned the Satomobile and gave dismissed his driver for the night.

The bar itself was as shabby as its surroundings, and so dark it took him a moment to realise that most of the patrons were in uniform. And the mood was ugly.

"This is a police bar?" he asked.

"Usually."

Right now, soldiers outnumbered police, and the cops didn't look too happy about it. There was an attitude of wariness among the police, a sense of waiting for the soldiers to put a foot wrong.

Beifong touched his arm.

"Get me a drink," she said. "Baiju. Warm."

And she vanished into the crowd.

Iroh couldn't see where she went or who she spoke to, but as he made his way through the press of people, he was aware of the tension easing around him.

"Evening, General!" One of his soldiers gave him a half-hearted salute. "You here for a drink? Great shochu. Lousy atmo- atmosphere."

"I like it just fine, Wei." Iroh slapped him on the shoulder and nodded for one of Wei's buddies to come over. "Any trouble?"

"Until you turned up, sir, I was trying to locate the nearest exits. But everything's settling all of a sudden. Nice job, sir."

"I don't think that was me."

He found Beifong eventually, sitting alone at a table in the corner. She had her back to the wall and her arms crossed. An old-fashioned crystal light cast greenish shadows, making her look like she'd been carved from jade.

"Warm baiju. And dumplings." Iroh put the tray down in front of her.

"Good." Beifong drained a cup of baiju in one swallow, ate two dumplings smothered in chilli sauce and said, "Thanks. I needed that."

"I know the feeling." Iroh claimed his second dumpling. "Nice work talking your people down."

"Didn't take much. They're doing hard work in difficult circumstances. A little acknowledgment goes a long way." A smile touched Beifong's lips. "And, of course, the United Forces haven't exactly made themselves popular. Firing on civilians? It's not just the newspapers that think half a police force is better than an army."

"Those soldiers will be court martialled." Iroh had gone over the incident too many times in the last twenty-four hours to feel anger anymore. All he felt now was disgust that a squad of four had turned out to be so stupid they couldn't distinguish between Equalists, looters and civilians in need of supplies. Bumi had spent yesterday afternoon raging through the base ranting about fucking cock-ups; Iroh, as the senior officer, had been been limited to more restrained language.

"Look," said Beifong, more gently than he would have expected, "the United Forces doesn't have a monopoly on stupidity. Saikhan and Tarrlok pissed away every ounce of trust I earned in the slum districts, and we're all going to have to pay the price. But police aren't soldiers, and you can't expect the police to bow down and welcome the military's 'assistance' just because you have nice uniforms and most of your personnel intact."

"I just need our people to work together."

"I know. For the sake of the city."

"For the sake of the city," Iroh repeated. He raised his cup to make it a toast.

"May I ask," He said, suddenly reckless, "why are you calling yourself a civilian consultant? The Council offered you your job back, even without-" He stopped.

"I quit before I lost my bending," Beifong said flatly. "I'm not good at going backwards."

"The police force needs leadership."

"The whole city needs that. I'm helping out where I can. After that ... I don't know."

"I heard the Avatar's going to the South Pole next week."

Beifong nodded.

"I'll join her. If anyone can fix this, it's Katara. But I'm trying not to get my hopes up." She was staring into her empty cup, a crooked smile on her slips. "And I'm trying to keep Korra together. Keep the city together. And, yeah, the force. Two-thirds of us dead, injured or without bending." She shook her head. "A few months ago, I felt invincible. Shows what I knew."

"You're talking to the guy who got a whole fleet destroyed. A week ago, I felt competent."

This time, Beifong's smile reached her eyes.

"All right," she said, "we all screwed up bad."

"We really did."

"Another round?"

"Please."

The crowd was thinning out as people returned to their homes or barracks. It couldn't be much past eight, but the streets weren't safe at night, even for people in uniform.

"Will you be disciplined for your screw-ups?" Beifong asked.

"'Pending further inquiry,' they told me."

"Meaning politics? Or waiting to see what your family says?"

"Are you about to ask if I got my rank because of my mother?"

"Why not? I did." Beifong shrugged. "It's not how I wanted to get the job, but I wasn't going to say no. Meant I inherited her enemies, though."

"I might wind up a royal latrine scrubber," Iroh admitted. "I've been trying not to think about it."

"Good. Nothing you can do. Except quit before they come for you, and that's just admitting defeat."

"You quit."

"I knew I was beaten."

"Why are you still in uniform?"

Beifong blinked, looking down at her armour like she had forgotten she was even wearing it.

"I ... am used to it," she said.

"Or you're not ready to let it go."

That was a misjudgment, a sure sign he'd had too much to drink. But Beifong just looked up at him, eyes wide with surprise.

Iroh waited for her to say something cutting, but she just took a deep breath, poured herself another drink and swallowed.

"It's my bending," she said at last, her voice thick. "I'm not ready to let go of that."

"I'm sorry. I spoke out of turn."

"Don't be. No one else will-" she caught herself. "That is, Korra's trying to be strong. She needs someone to set an example. And I'm not exactly going to sit in a circle and hold hands with my former officers."

"You need to debrief?"

"Yes. No. Maybe." Beifong buried her face in her hands for a moment. "No, that's not what I need." She looked up, running her fingers through her hair. "Come to bed with me?"

"I - sorry - what-"

She let him flail for a few moments more, then leaned forward and kissed him on the lips.

Beifong's breath was warm and smelt of spirits, and her lips were unexpectedly soft. Her hands covered his. She had a strong grip, and he wasn't sure if she was holding him in place or using him to anchor herself.

He kissed her back.

When they parted, Beifong nodded and stood up.

"I'll meet you around the corner. Five minutes."

She slipped out of her seat and made her way towards the exit, pausing here and there to speak to the few remaining cops. If anyone had seen their performance, no one was foolish enough to mention it to her.

He found Beifong leaning against a wall, wrapped once more in her heavy coat, her arms crossed and her eyes half-open. She looked deeply content, like a squirrel-cat who'd just eaten the cream and the canary, and was thinking about trying for a salmon next.

"I'm not good at emotional stuff," she said, straightening up. "I need to keep our professional boundaries clear. And I like to keep my life private."

"That's fine."

"I don't cook."

"Neither do I," Iroh admitted.

"And I don't do babies or weddings." She uncrossed her arms and added, "Which also means I won't be turning up at the palace in nine months with an illegitimate kid for you to deal with."

"I leave the babies and weddings to my sister and brother."

Beifong smiled.

"I know," she said. "It's one of your better qualities."

She offered him her arm and whistled for a cab.

Iroh woke up just before sunrise. For a few seconds he lay still, processing the unfamiliar surroundings and tangle of sheets. And the noise.

Beside him, Beifong stirred and reached for the telephone.

"Beifong."

Iroh closed his eyes and listened to the conversation.

"Morning, Tranh. Really? Fast work. Mm. Mm'm. A full confession? Witnessed? Good work." Beifong stood up. "When's the press conference? Good. Yeah, I'll be there. No, I'll inform General Iroh myself."

Iroh opened his eyes and stretched.

"Well, she'll have to go through the proper military channels. But she could start with a secondment. We need the staff. Mm. Yes. Nice work, Tranh. See you later."

Beifong replaced the receiver.

"The murderer confessed two hours ago. He owed the victim money. Tried to make it look like an Equalist attack, or an attack on an Equalist, some damn thing. We have a press conference in two hours." She retrieved Iroh's pants from the floor and threw them at him. "Consider yourself officially notifed." She disappeared into the bathroom.

"Are you stealing my officers?" he called.

She emerged, leaning against the doorframe.

"In the spirit of cooperation between the United Forces and the Republic City Police Force, yes."

"...Fair enough."

She smiled and called over her shoulder, "I'm open to further collaboration between our parties."

It was probably the closest thing he'd get to an invitation. Iroh climbed out of bed and went to join her.

end