[AtLA Fic] Dealbreaker
Written for 5trueloves.
Title: Dealbreaker
Characters: Song/Ozai, Hakoda, Song's mother, assorted Earthfolk
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 7000+
Summary: When the leaves were turning orange, a Fire man hauled a Water Tribesman into Song's clinic.
Dealbreaker
***
When the leaves were turning orange, a Fire man hauled a Water Tribesman into Song's clinic. The Fire man paused in the doorway for a fraction of a heartbeat, then strode over to an empty bed and dropped the Water Tribesman as if he were a sack of potatoes. Blood spurted, and the Water Tribesman groaned in pain.
Song winced.
The Fire man folded his arms and scowled around the clinic. "If there is not a surgeon here," He demanded of the whole room, "then tell me where the supplies are, and I'll sew him shut myself."
The thought of that man sewing anyone shut made Song wince again, and she stepped forward. "I'm the doctor here."
He gave her a contemptuous look. "Then get to doctoring."
Her scars throbbed. Where had she seen his face before? This man, she didn't know this man, but she knew something of him. He reminded her of someone she had met once.
Instead of answering or worrying about Firefolk she might have met, Song strode past him to look at the Water Tribesman. A sword-slash had cut through his shirt and chest, exposing more muscle than she would have liked. Several stab wounds marked his torso, as well as some ugly cuts on his arms. His eyes weren't focusing properly either when she peeled open an eyelid to check.
"Mother! - Get out of the way, you." She pushed past the Fire man, then threw open the cabinets containing her supplies. "Mother! I'm going to need extra hands for this!"
When she turned back around with her arms full of supplies - needle and thread, salves and tinctures - she found the Fire man regarding her with a peculiar expression. She returned his look levelly, then strode over to the Water Tribesman.
"If you're just going to stand there," She said as she laid down her supplies, then went for the kettle on the stove, "You can make yourself useful and bring in more water from the well in the back. We'll certainly need it to save your friend."
"He wouldn't consider himself my friend," the Fire man said.
Song wasn't at all surprised by that assessment. She was surprised when the man went out to the well to fetch water.
***
After cleaning his wounds and sewing him shut, Song fed the Water Tribesman a tea full of sleep-jasmine. While she worked on him, he had clung to the dregs of consciousness. Now the drug slipped him into sleep. Song smiled and patted his hair. Finally, his body had a chance to heal without the extra strain from forcing himself to stay awake.
"Neat bit of work," the Fire man said.
She blinked. She would never have expected a compliment from the man.
He raised his eyebrows. "Yes?"
"Nothing," she said. "Your companion needs to rest tonight and a few days more to make sure no sickness got into his wounds."
The Fire man nodded. "And the cost?"
"What happened?" Song asked, trying to deflect the question. She was still working out what price to ask. With the villagers, she traded in kind, and during the War, she had helped refugees and asked for nothing in return. But these men were not refugees, whoever they were.
"It's been dealt with," the Fire man said with a dismissive wave of his hand.
Something caught Song's eye, and she reached out to grab his wrist. He tensed in her grip, and she had a moment to realize how stupid that had been- Then he relaxed, and she studied his hand. There was red around the edges of his fingernails and faded red-brown stains on his knuckles.
His skin was fever-hot.
She dropped his hand and turned away. "There's soap in the covered pan by the washbasin. Scrub the blood off."
"The cost," the Fire man commanded.
Song found herself responding to the tone automatically. "-I don't know. We trade in kind around here, and I don't have much use for money. What is it you can do?"
The Fire man looked thoughtful. "Kill people. Scribework, though I'm not familiar with any Earth Kingdom formal scripts. Intercede with spirits."
She blinked. "You sound like a priest turned to war."
"Something like that." The Fire man smirked.
Song tried to avoid thinking of what that did to his mouth. "Wash your hands. I'll figure a price for you and your friend in the morning." She paused. "What are your names?"
"His name is Hakoda." The Fire man said as he strode over to the washbasin. "Mine is Lee."
Song's blood froze. His face, oh-
("My nephew was named after his father, so we just call him Junior.")
***
Lee chose to spend the night in the clinic with Hakoda. Song was more than happy for the Fire man to stay away from her home. Just knowing he was there in the clinic, knowing who his son was, left her unsettled for the rest of the day.
She woke in the middle of the night and dressed. Sometimes sleep left her long before dawn, and she found it was more comforting to check on her patients and animals than to lie awake in bed. The runner ducks cooed sleepily at her as she peeked into their duckcote, and the spiny hedgesow grumbled at her. She smiled, then went down the path to her clinic.
A lamp was lit inside, and Song paused in the back doorway as she heard someone singing softly.
"Now Zhani, be as good as your word,
Come try your faith with fire and sword.
Don't flee away like a frightened bird
Chased from its nest in the morning."
Lee had a good voice. As Song listened to him, though, she wondered why he sang that song as a lullaby. It mocked a battle lost and Zhani's cowardice, though Song couldn't say if it was Fire Nation history, legend, or both.
She stepped into the clinic, then smiled at the sight of Lee stroking Hakoda's hair as he sang. His expression was odd: intense, almost angry. But his touch on Hakoda's hair balanced that, and the softness of his singing made her wonder who the anger was actually directed at.
He glanced up as she walked into the room, bright eyes meeting hers. He didn't look like he'd slept, and she clucked her tongue at him. "You don't need to stay up for him. The only way he'll die in the night is if someone cuts his throat."
A smile flitted across his face, at her expense. "I don't sleep very much, Song-chan."
She didn't know the meaning of the syllable he attached to her name, but she guessed it wasn't polite. "Try."
He chuckled and ignored her, and she in turn ignored him while she checked on Hakoda. The Water Tribesman slept deeply, and none of his bandages had bled through. She changed them anyway, setting the bloody linen aside with the soap. After, she went outside to draw water from the wall. Cleaning the bandages would tire her enough to sleep again tonight, and it would let her keep an eye on Lee to be sure he slept.
***
Three days later, Hakoda was well enough to be unhappy at Song's continued insistance that he rest, and she was still no closer to working out a price for her services. In lieu of something specific and as payment for Hakoda occupying her clinic, she dragooned Lee into helping around her mother's small farm. It was the season to harvest and cure tobacco, a process which always needed too many hands.
"I suppose I could give you my firstborn," Lee said as he hung a bundle of tobacco leaves in the curing barn.
Song stared up at him, not entirely sure if he was joking. His sense of humor was odd, and there were times she thought he might be laughing only because she was. "I don't want him."
Lee shrugged. "He is a useless boy. Though perhaps he'll grow into someone of worth."
The way he said it made Song wonder if Junior had ever heard his father say something so kind about him. She said nothing to Lee, however; merely raised another stick of leaves up to him.
***
Song opened Hakoda's shirt and checked his wounds with deft hands. He'd finally stopped teasing her about her tendency not to ask before opening his clothes, but it still made him grin.
She liked his smile. It was warm, not sharp like Lee's.
"It looks like you'll be able to walk out of here tomorrow as long as you get a good night's sleep," she said cheerily.
"Been long enough," Hakoda said as he did his shirt back up. "It only took three days to get on my feet the last time I took that kind of damage. A full week is bit much."
She put her hands on her hips and gave him a stern look. "You're not as young as you used to be. Your body isn't going to heal as quickly as it did, and the less you push it when you take this kind of beating, the less permanent damage you'll do to yourself. Since neither you nor Lee need to be anywhere in a hurry, taking the time to take care of yourself is the wisest option."
He raised his hands in mock-surrender, but the smile seemed to fade a bit from his face. "Speaking of Lee..."
"He's helping Mother fire the tobacco," Song checked the supplies in her clinic, making note of herbs she needed to replace from the business she'd had with her neighbors during the week of Hakoda's stay.
"'Fire the tobacco'?" The Water Tribesman said, sounding wary.
"Yes. He's got a good hand with maintaining a hot, even burn. We'll have a much better supply than usual, thanks to him." She shrugged, adding, "It seems Firefolk with fire are good for something."
Hakoda snorted. "If only we could get more of them farming." Tension drained out of him, though, and he looked at her curiously. "You grow tobacco?"
"Tobacco and tea, for home, clinic, and sale, and enough wheat for most of our baking," Song answered, rattling off their crops as if she was at market. "Mother keeps a vegetable garden, and I keep a herb garden outside the clinic. We used to keep a few hives when I was younger, but I don't have time to tend them anymore."
"Has he been behaving himself?" The Water Tribesman asked in a quiet voice so unlike any other tone he'd used with her. It disturbed her on some fundamental level, and she turned to look at him. His expression was intent, serious, and his eyes were like chips of ice.
"He's... strange." She turned away to straighten jars that didn't need straightening. "Sometimes it's like no one ever taught him how to be human, but most of the time he acts like a nobleman who tolerates the existence of everyone around him but doesn't particularly like anyone." Except he liked Hakoda. Lee listened to her, too, and she was afraid to think about what that meant. "But he's been decent enough. Better than the last Fire person I met."
"That's good to hear."
Song tossed him an impish smile. "I don't know. If you let him steal my ostrich-horse when you leave, he'll be on par with the last two Firefolk through here."
Hakoda snorted. "His legs aren't broken. He can walk on his own two feet."
She hmmed in response, then went to find a broom to sweep the clinic floor with. When she returned, Hakoda was staring out the window. His gaze seemed distant, and she left him to his thoughts while she swept.
"We'll be leaving tomorrow," he said finally. "Did Lee ever settle payment with you?"
"No," she answered, "But the work he's been doing with the harvest has been good enough."
Hakoda nodded. "We could stay on longer. Get everything in. I could do some hunting around here."
Something sounded off in the offer, and Song paused in her sweeping. "-You'll be here until the first snow if you stay that long. Mother and I can manage the rest just fine. The hard part was the tobacco."
"Not too worried about winter traveling." Hakoda sounded like he was grinning.
She shrugged, not voicing the opinion that while he might not be, Lee would undoubtedly find it unpleasant. "There's no need to keep either of you here."
"Yes," he said. "I suppose you're right."
She resumed sweeping, mulling over his words. After she'd cleaned out the clinic and swept the porch, she came back inside and studied his profile. "Why do you want to leave him for a while?"
He flinched. Just slightly, but long experience had sharpened Song's eyes to other people's pain. "His son asked me to bring him home alive, and that boy is friend to my son." His fists clenched. "I gave my word, Song. I gave my word to bring him back alive, and if I stay around him for another week, I'll cut his throat."
Oh dear. Song blinked, then carefully went to put her broom away. When she came back, she sat down on the edge of another bed and folded her hands in her lap. She couldn't tell him Lee wasn't all that bad. She'd only known both men for a week, not for the obvious months they had known each other.
She took a breath. "How long do you want to be away from him, Hakoda?"
"A month if I could, but I can't." He shook his head, the beads in his hair bouncing lightly off his cheek. "Someone has to watch him."
"We still have a lot to get in for the harvest," Song said. "He'd be a lot of help to us if he stayed."
"No!" Hakoda jerked to look at her. "You can't- You have no idea who he is and what he's capable of. I won't leave him here with you."
"I know he's a firebender." Song leaned down and hiked up one side of her skirt, then rolled up her pantaloon legs to expose the ancient burn scars. "I'm not afraid of firebenders, Hakoda."
He stared at her scars, and unlike Junior, his gaze was not horrified. Sad, very sad, but... He touched his left shoulder. "My friend Bato took a heavy fireblast during the war. It seared his armor to his skin. His whole arm and part of his chest is scarred. But it's nothing like that."
"This was deliberately patterned," she said gently and rolled her pantaloon back down.
Hakoda said nothing for a long while, just staring at where the skirt of her hanbok covered her scarred leg. When he finally spoke, he sounded very tired and old. "He isn't a firebender. But he's still dangerous."
She wondered why he was lying to her about Lee's 'bending. She'd felt his skin, and she knew what fever skin on a Fire man meant now, unlike when she'd met Junior and Mushi. "I keep needles coated with sleep-jasmine in my braid. My mother taught me how to wear them without rubbing the drug off in my hair."
"Song..."
She folded her hands together in her lap. "You can stay if you want. You said you had a duty to bring him back alive, and you don't think you can do that as it stands. Maybe a little rest will do you both some good."
He took a long breath, and his hands clenched into fists. "Just because I don't think I can do something doesn't mean I'm right. I will not leave him alone with you."
"All right," she said simply. Sometimes her patients didn't want her help, and there was nothing she could do to force them to take it. Part of being a doctor was giving people the choice in whether they wanted to be healed or not.
There was a curious expression on Hakoda's face as she stood. It was as if he couldn't quite believe she wouldn't argue with him about this.
She wondered if he wanted to be argued out of his decision- Or if he wanted to strengthen his own resolve through argument.
***
"Hakoda tells me we're leaving in three days," Lee commented, glancing up from the tea leaves he was sorting through.
"Oh?" Song paused on her way through the barn. The runner ducks swirled around her feet, and she absent-mindedly swished her skirt at the ones trying to separate from the flock. "He should be able to leave tomorrow."
"Mmm. He seems to think you don't have enough meat for the winter." Lee's attention shifted back to sorting the tea leaves for the drying rack. He was halfway through the harvest from the looks of it. Her mother had been helping earlier, until afternoon waned into evening, and she needed to prepare dinner for everyone.
Water Tribesmen could be quite strange. Song and her mother would slaughter the hedgesow's last piglet before the first frost. Other than that, there were more than enough runner ducks for meat, though it was doubtful they'd slaughter very many. Eggs were worth more than meat.
"So he's going hunting?" she asked.
"Presumably. Though he could be going poaching."
Song gave Lee a dirty look. He merely smiled in response.
***
Sunrise the next morning found Hakoda gone from her clinic. She went to look for Lee and found him out in the barn, working through the last of the tea. She glared at him on general principles - did the man never sleep? He grinned at her.
Song sighed and fetched out the mending to work on while the light was good.
It was peaceful to work outside on the porch with her sewing. The sun warmed as it rose higher, and cool little breezes rustled through the leaves in the trees and swirled around her skirt. Near mid-morning, she set aside her mending to rest for a bit with her head against a pole, and her eyes half-closed.
A man came around the corner of the house from the direction of the barn, warm and broad, dressed in sturdy browns. Her heart leaped in her chest, and a half-formed thought filled her with warmth. Until she realized it was Lee, and she had to bite back a moue of disappointment.
It wasn't that hard, oddly enough.
"Hello, Song-chan."
"Lee." She picked up her mending again, running her fingers over the edge of the tear. "Is there something you need?"
"A bath."
She blinked and looked up at him. He raised an eyebrow. Well. He did seem like a noble, so it stood to reason he preferred to bathe more often than a peasant might. After all, he wouldn't have to do all the work involved in preparing a bath.
"If you bring the water in, I'll heat it for you," she said at last. "When I'm done with my mending."
Lee frowned but said nothing. Instead he wandered off in the direction of the tobacco plot, where she'd let the runner ducks loose to forage. She craned her neck to watch as he wandered in among the birds. They made anxious noises, but none seemed anxious enough to stop foraging. He settled down gingerly on the stone border around the plot, and the birds ignored him.
Song returned her attention to her mending. After finishing two pieces, she glanced over at him.
Lee had his eyes closed and his face tipped up to the sun. For some strange reason, her breath caught in her throat.
***
Song lifted the massive cauldron onto the stove then fed more wood into the fire so it would heat. She looked up to see Lee paused half in the doorway, a bucket of water swaying at each end of the yoke across his shoulders. His gold eyes were wide for an unguarded moment, then he smiled sharply and brought the water in.
She lifted the buckets and poured them into the cauldron, then sent him back out for more water. Some part of her wondered what had surprised him about her preparing a bath.
While she wondered, she went and fetched the tub from the barn. It was big enough for a man to stand in, though it only came up to her knees. Sometimes she wished they could spare a barrel to bathe in, but then the thought of bringing in all the water to fill it would catch up with her.
Lee returned with another pair of full buckets, and she got out the soft brown soap when he made his way back to the well.
He brought back several more buckets, until she had filled the cauldron almost to the brim. Then, while the water heated, Song went about preparing bread to bake for dinner. Lee stayed out of her way, except for a moment at the end of her mixing. Her cheek felt burned from the not-quite touch of his hand going past her face, two fingers dipping into the dough. He pulled back quickly, dough-covered fingers going into his mouth.
She made an annoyed sound and rapped her wooden spoon against his arm.
Lee blinked.
"You ask before you just dip your hands in," she scolded. "And you're here for a bath, Lee. If you think you're dirty, you shouldn't be touching food."
He chuckled and pulled his fingers out of his mouth, the motion entirely lewd. His gold eyes were brighter than she had ever seen, and she turned away from him hastily. The dough, she needed to cover the dough and take it down to the bread-baking hearth in the village as soon as the tub was set up.
"Now what, Song-chan?"
"When I finish with the dough, I'll take it to be baked. There's a heavy ladle over there you can use to fill the tub from the hot water, and there's soap," she replied. "Wash yourself, dry by the stove, get dressed, and pour out the water. Leave the cauldron on the stove, and I'll bathe when you're done."
Lee grunted in acknowledgment, and Song returned her attention to her bread-making. Until she heard the rustle of cloth hitting the ground.
She paused. "Lee?"
"Hm?"
"It's bad enough you're a stange man all alone in the house with me, but please tell me you're wearing clothes."
She could practically hear his smile. "Now why would I lie to you, Song-chan?"
Song picked up her bowl and covered it with a cloth. Oh. Her hands were shaking. How odd. "I see." At least her voice wasn't. "Well. Do enjoy your bath, Lee. I need to get this baked so we'll have bread for tomorrow."
"Of course."
She darted out of the kitchen, letting the door slam shut behind her. She did not glance back over her shoulder, not once.
No matter how much she wanted to.
***
That afternoon, she returned home with fresh-baked bread and her jaw set. She would not be chased out of her own home by that man. She would take a bath, and he would not- Her cheeks grew hot as some possibilities slithered around in her mind, just nebulous enough for her to avoid grasping them.
The kitchen was empty when she strode inside. The empty tub leaned against the wall, and the cauldron still sat on the stove. The fire underneath was low, though, deliberately so. The way her mother would leave it when she wanted the fire to keep going unattended without fuel.
"Mother?"
"What is it, Song?" Her mother called from the main room of the house.
"Where's Lee?"
There was a pause, and then Lee answered. "Here."
Song bit her lip. He didn't have to sound so... He didn't have to sound so anything, except he did. "I baked bread for tonight, Mother. I was thinking of using some of the duck eggs to make the bread for tomorrow. Or trade with Chen for some cherries. The apples are just about ripe; I could pick a few. The maple sap won't be running for months yet; do you think I could get out a pan of sugar and make something? Or should we save it?"
Her mother entered the kitchen in a soft stirring of cloth. "You're craving fruit?"
It was an innocent question, and Song's hands froze. She stared down at the bread. Fruit. Tart fruit. The last time she craved something tart-
(She was standing in the streets of Ba Sing Se, wearing the minister's robe and drawing odd looks. Her body hummed with the remembered feel of the man's hands and the taste of his skin.
She bought a plum and licked tart juices off her hands to wipe him away.)
No, Mother didn't know about that. She didn't know hardly anything of those few months after Lee had come, when Song had run and run and run. Chasing after a boy she never found, but finding something better instead.
What Mother remembered was the day after Lee and Old Man Mushi took Tuo Ma, when Song had dipped strawberries in sugar and eaten nothing else at all that day. Because- Because. The tartness of the strawberries made the sweetness of the sugar more pronounced.
Or the time before that, when Yang tried to get her alone in the barn and she stabbed him with her needles. Her mother had found her in the blackberry thicket, her mouth and clothes stained purple.
"It's nothing," Song said quickly. "I just thought it would be nice to have some apples."
Her mother gave her a stern look, then glanced over her shoulder. When she turned back to Song, she spoke in a very low voice. "Has something happened that I should know about, Song?"
"No." Song set the bread on a shelf and walked over to pull the tub out into the room. "My courses will be coming soon, I expect. It's making me... flustered. That's all."
"Of course," her mother said mildly. She went to the stove and fed the fire up. "You're a grown woman, Song, and a doctor. I don't need to remind you of the consequences of becoming unflustered."
"Of course not, Mother."
"Enjoy your bath." Her mother gave her a gentle little hug and went back into the main room, closing the door behind her.
Song dropped the tub to the floor with a clunk. Steam began to rise from the water on the stove, and she stared at it. It was only mid-afternoon, she thought. She should do her chores first and then take her bath. There was no point in scrubbing herself just to get dirty again immediately afterwards.
Maybe she could sneak an apple from the trees in the garden without Mother noticing.
***
Dawn found her in the clinic, checking the stock of all the supplies. She'd woken up sometime in the night again. The animals were all asleep, and she actually caught Lee sleeping for the first time since he had walked into her life. He slept the sleep of the just, which amused her far more than she thought it ought to.
Heng came by for a healing session. He'd torn his left leg badly while she was gone, and it had taken her most of the year to get him well enough to mostly not need her. It would still take her months to undo the damage. She helped him to pull his leg up on a bench, then stacked chrysoprase on bloodstone onto his leg. The tension in his shoulders drained away, and he even smiled at her. "Thanks, Song."
"You're welcome." She laid out her acupuncture needles and studied his leg. "I'm sorry I wasn't here to do it right the first time."
He shrugged. "Just bad luck your mom had twins to deliver. Well. Bad luck for me. Both of them lived, you know, and they're still living."
"Yes." She smiled. "So I've heard."
Heng nodded, looking at her with warm eyes. The handsome farmer's son had never looked at her that way before. It should have made her heart flutter, she thought, but-
(The look in Lee's eyes as he pulled his fingers out of his mouth-)
She patted his knee and slid a needle into his skin. "I should be done by mid-morning."
***
After Heng left, Song went home to do the chores now that it had warmed some. She heard the thunk of axe into wood and went around to the back of the house to find her mother.
She didn't find her mother. She found Lee with his shirt off as he chopped wood. Sweat sheened his skin, and the muscles of his back tightened as he swung the axe back for another blow. The loose clothes he favored had hidden his muscles; she'd never realized how sculpted his body was. Nor, she realized as light caught strangely on his skin, how scarred.
He swung the axe forward, and her mouth went dry as his muscles shifted.
Lee paused and swung the axe up to rest the haft on his shoulder. He wiped sweat from his brow and pushed his long hair back with irritation.
"You could tie it back," Song suggested.
He whirled, the axe coming down into a guard position, his eyes wide and lips pulled back to bare teeth. He never quite hit an entirely ready stance; she saw him recognize her and pull himself out of it. But the flash of that expression made her heart stutter, and she had to fold her hands together to keep them from trembling.
"You shouldn't sneak up on people, Song-chan." Lee rested the axe-blade flat against his leg. His chest rose in quick breaths for all his apparent ease.
"I didn't sneak," she said tartly, her fingers squeezing her hands hard. "Who can sneak with all these leaves crunching underfoot?"
He tilted his head slightly, regarding her. Then he threw back his head and laughed. "Oh, Song-chan."
"I was looking for Mother," she said when his laughter died. "Do you know where she is?"
He nodded his head towards the house.
"Thank you." Song turned away and strode towards the house, wondering when her heart would stop pounding. Lee was a dangerous, dangerous man, and she'd been a fool to forget it.
Except, some part of her whispered, she hadn't forgotten, had she? The minister had been an eminently dangerous man, hadn't he, and she'd-
She strangled the thought as the sound of wood-chopping resumed.
***
That evening, she found Lee on the porch with his head turned towards the setting sun. His eyes were closed, but his expression tightened with anger when she stepped up beside him.
"You're blocking the light," he growled.
"Mm." Song swept her skirts up and settled next to him. Her hands rested on her knees, and the fingers of her right hand curled pleasantly as she felt the aura of heat the Fire man put off. Mm.
Slowly, Lee relaxed again, not opening his eyes but still following the sun's path down the sky and behind the trees. His heat never faded, though she'd always heard stories that firebending was more difficult at night. (But Hakoda said he wasn't a firebender.)
After the sun disappeared entirely and all that was left of the day was a fading brightness in the west, Lee opened his eyes. He blinked, tilted his head slightly at an angle as he looked at her. "It is not so cold a night yet that you need to be quite that close, Song-chan."
She flushed as she realized how close she had sat down beside this dangerous (attractive) man. She made no effort to move, though. "It'll be colder than you think tonight, Lee. Autumn falls to winter in the darkness."
His mouth curved in something too wicked for her to want to call it a smile. "So you thought to find a fire more flexible than your stove-fire? Well, I've certainly got a more interesting handle than your kettles."
The back of her hand struck his upper arm. "Don't be lewd, Lee."
His eyes narrowed, and his hand flashed out serpent-quick to wrap strong fingers around her wrist. "Careful with your touch, Song-chan."
She shivered as he tugged gently on her hand and didn't resist as he raised it up to his mouth. She did not know if she expected a bite or a kiss, but she received neither. He breathed fire-warm breath on the palm of her hand, and her fingers curled, brushing against his face and beard. Oh. Oh, she wanted more of that.
"A man can be devastated by a woman's touch," Lee murmured and let her hand drop.
She wrapped her arms around herself as he stood and walked away.
***
The air was chill when Song opened her eyes, and it was still night. She knew in her bones that the sun would rise in two hours, but her body had decided it was time to wake up now. She sighed, slipped out from under the blanket, dressed but didn't unpin her hair, and padded out of the little house to check on the animals. The moon was full and bright, and she didn't bother with a lantern.
The hedgesow snorted at her when she checked its pen. She smiled in the dark, then her feet turned in the direction of the woods. She needed to find where the runner ducks had bedded down for the night.
As she passed by the barn, a presence slipped up behind her.
"I know why I don't sleep, but what wakes you in the night, Song-chan?" Lee's voice rasped in the darkness, the sound making her skin prickle.
She licked her lips; they felt too dry and stiff all of a sudden. "It's nothing, Lee. Go back to sleep. I didn't mean to wake you."
"You didn't," he said, sounding amused. There was a rustle of leaves as he stepped closer, and her back warmed from his body-heat. "Your hair is up," he said softly. "I had wondered what it looked like loose, but this..."
His fingertips skimmed gently over her spine, and her toes curled at the jolt of sensation from his touch.
"It's easier to sleep with the braid pinned up," she said, trying to bring to mind her mother's warnings about strangling in her braid. But all she could think of was the sound of Lee's voice as he talked about her hair flowing loose.
She liked the way his voice sounded.
"I wouldn't have imagined so." His voice was suddenly much closer now, his breath warming the shell of her ear. She almost thought she could feel the movement of air between his lips and her skin. "But I wouldn't have imagined many things before I walked into your clinic."
Her hands tightened in her skirts. "Like what?"
She heard his smile. "Like the taste of duck eggs cooked with hard yellow cheese. The smell of tobacco curing. The sight of your eyes when you saw me chopping wood."
Song sucked in a breath.
His hand wrapped around her upper arm, thumb rubbing against the material of her jeogori. "The feel of this..."
She felt her bones melt and her body settle back against his. He was muscled and hot, and she felt his hand tighten on her arm as she tipped her face up to his. Lightning jolted through her as his mouth touched hers, and she arched into the kiss.
Lee kissed hungrily. There was an intensity in the feel of his lips on hers; he would devour all she had to give and take what she did not. He would consume her, use her as fuel-
She broke the kiss and broke away with a gasp. "Lee-!"
"Was there ever a lovelier sight?" He murmured, his eyes bright and his hand feeling as if it was burning through the cloth of her sleeve. "Color in your cheek like a rose, your lips swollen with my kisses?"
"I need to find the runner ducks," she stammered. The taste of him- She wanted to lick her lips, to capture more of that taste. But if she did, she'd kiss him again. She'd kiss him, and she'd- She didn't have any protection!
"Runner ducks," he said, his grip on her loosening. "Really?"
"Really." Her hands settled on her skirts, catching fabric between her fingers to prevent herself from reaching out to grab Lee and pull herself close.
"Now?"
"Now."
"Well," he said, his tone sliding almost to mockery and almost to wonder, "Perhaps you should go and find them."
He let go of her arm, and Song turned briskly towards the edge of the fields. She walked quickly and refused to look back. There were sheaths at the clinic, she thought, and Mama would assume any of them going missing meant Song had given them out to a village girl. Which was true, she was a village girl herself...
***
The day dragged. Crisp autumn breezes toyed with Song's clothes, little shivery thoughts running down her spine as she wished for someone else to be fluttering her skirts. It was her mother's day at the clinic, but Song found she could hardly do anything around the farm without her feet taking her to find Lee. After the fourth mumbled excuse, she fled to the clinic.
Warmth burned low in her stomach, slowly uncurling when she thought of the way he'd smiled at her and her basket of apples.
She thought of his beard and wondered if it would feel as silky as his hair under her fingers. She thought of Ba Sing Se and the things in some of their books (of the Minister), and the vision of Lee's beard against her thigh made her cheeks flush.
The sun crawled across the sky.
***
"Lee," she called softly as she pushed open the barn door. Warm light spilled out into the grey dusk; Lee sat in a circle of lamplight, his shirt crumpled in his hands and his eyes blazing as he looked up at her.
She gulped. Suddenly she felt uncertain; what had happened in the dark had been spontaneous, thoughtless. But she'd run away - what if he didn't want her anymore? Men could sometimes get into terrible sulks if their egos were bruised.
"Song-chan," he said, eyes on her as he rose to his feet. His hair clung to his shoulders, and his full mouth curved into a desirous smile.
Heat curled in her belly as his shirt dropped from his fingers.
"I brought a sheath," she said, her cheeks growing hot as she walked towards him. "I didn't want to-"
"Of course." His smile didn't change as he reached for her, gently pulling her close against his body. "You do not need my child, Song-chan."
After the cool night outside, his firebender warmth made her sigh in pleasure. She wrapped an arm around his waist, her fingers stroking the seat of his pants. She felt hard muscle under there, curved in a way that made her just want to take a handful.
His hands tightened on her, and Lee dipped his head to kiss her. This time there wasn't a jolt of lightning, just the steady spread of red fire through her body. She craved every moment his lips touched hers, every circle of his fingers against the small of her back. She wanted more - his hands and mouth on her breasts, his hands between her legs, his cock-
She pressed herself wantonly against him, her fingers digging into his ass. She reached up with her other hand to stroke his hair, then grabbed hold as he hefted her up. Her legs wrapped around his waist, and she rubbed against him, pressing her jeogori-covered breasts against his chest, her center against the hardness she could feel through all their layers of clothes.
"Damn it!" Hakoda snapped, and Song froze in the kiss.
Lee very gently broke the kiss and lifted his head. "Hakoda. Back so soon?"
Song snuck a look over her shoulder. The Water Tribesman stood in the door of the barn, a deerhare slung over his shoulders and a brace of birds in one hand. His lips were peeled back from his teeth, his eyes hard with fury.
"Put the girl down, Lee."
She wondered at the odd emphasis on Lee's name.
"She wants this," Lee purred. "I want this. Is that wrong?"
Song nodded, loosening her legs from around his waist so she could stand under her own power. "It's all right, Hakoda..."
"If I thought you knew who you were getting involved with," Hakoda said, his voice tight with anger, "I would turn around now. But you don't. Get away from her, Lee."
Again, the same odd emphasis, like he was throwing Lee's name at him.
"I want this," Song said firmly. "I want him. I know who he is-"
Lee's hands tightened on her waist. "You aren't her father, Hakoda. You don't get to choose for her."
"You have no idea who he is, Song," Hakoda said softly. "Does he know about the scars on your leg? The scar he gave his son wasn't nearly so pretty."
Her knees went weak. "Lee...?"
But he didn't deny it at all, and she stumbled back from him. Thoughts whirled through her head, memories of how Junior had been so wary of compassion. But his own father-! His own father had scarred him- She'd wondered what Junior and Mushi were running from, those Fire men pretending to be refugees. Mushi had obviously loved Junior, though, and if Lee had done that to his son...
Tears stung her eyes. Frantically, she looked at Hakoda but his expression was hard and cold on Lee. She shook her head, braid thumping against her back.
Lee reached up and brushed his hair back from his face. "He earned it."
Song turned and ran.
***
In the morning, Hakoda helped her hang the butchered deerhare in the smokehouse. He tried to speak to her several times, but she had nothing to say to him.
When they were done, she said, "Thank you. Good journey."
Then she walked back to her house, stepping around where Lee stood on the path without looking at the man.
-End-
Title: Dealbreaker
Characters: Song/Ozai, Hakoda, Song's mother, assorted Earthfolk
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 7000+
Summary: When the leaves were turning orange, a Fire man hauled a Water Tribesman into Song's clinic.
Dealbreaker
***
When the leaves were turning orange, a Fire man hauled a Water Tribesman into Song's clinic. The Fire man paused in the doorway for a fraction of a heartbeat, then strode over to an empty bed and dropped the Water Tribesman as if he were a sack of potatoes. Blood spurted, and the Water Tribesman groaned in pain.
Song winced.
The Fire man folded his arms and scowled around the clinic. "If there is not a surgeon here," He demanded of the whole room, "then tell me where the supplies are, and I'll sew him shut myself."
The thought of that man sewing anyone shut made Song wince again, and she stepped forward. "I'm the doctor here."
He gave her a contemptuous look. "Then get to doctoring."
Her scars throbbed. Where had she seen his face before? This man, she didn't know this man, but she knew something of him. He reminded her of someone she had met once.
Instead of answering or worrying about Firefolk she might have met, Song strode past him to look at the Water Tribesman. A sword-slash had cut through his shirt and chest, exposing more muscle than she would have liked. Several stab wounds marked his torso, as well as some ugly cuts on his arms. His eyes weren't focusing properly either when she peeled open an eyelid to check.
"Mother! - Get out of the way, you." She pushed past the Fire man, then threw open the cabinets containing her supplies. "Mother! I'm going to need extra hands for this!"
When she turned back around with her arms full of supplies - needle and thread, salves and tinctures - she found the Fire man regarding her with a peculiar expression. She returned his look levelly, then strode over to the Water Tribesman.
"If you're just going to stand there," She said as she laid down her supplies, then went for the kettle on the stove, "You can make yourself useful and bring in more water from the well in the back. We'll certainly need it to save your friend."
"He wouldn't consider himself my friend," the Fire man said.
Song wasn't at all surprised by that assessment. She was surprised when the man went out to the well to fetch water.
***
After cleaning his wounds and sewing him shut, Song fed the Water Tribesman a tea full of sleep-jasmine. While she worked on him, he had clung to the dregs of consciousness. Now the drug slipped him into sleep. Song smiled and patted his hair. Finally, his body had a chance to heal without the extra strain from forcing himself to stay awake.
"Neat bit of work," the Fire man said.
She blinked. She would never have expected a compliment from the man.
He raised his eyebrows. "Yes?"
"Nothing," she said. "Your companion needs to rest tonight and a few days more to make sure no sickness got into his wounds."
The Fire man nodded. "And the cost?"
"What happened?" Song asked, trying to deflect the question. She was still working out what price to ask. With the villagers, she traded in kind, and during the War, she had helped refugees and asked for nothing in return. But these men were not refugees, whoever they were.
"It's been dealt with," the Fire man said with a dismissive wave of his hand.
Something caught Song's eye, and she reached out to grab his wrist. He tensed in her grip, and she had a moment to realize how stupid that had been- Then he relaxed, and she studied his hand. There was red around the edges of his fingernails and faded red-brown stains on his knuckles.
His skin was fever-hot.
She dropped his hand and turned away. "There's soap in the covered pan by the washbasin. Scrub the blood off."
"The cost," the Fire man commanded.
Song found herself responding to the tone automatically. "-I don't know. We trade in kind around here, and I don't have much use for money. What is it you can do?"
The Fire man looked thoughtful. "Kill people. Scribework, though I'm not familiar with any Earth Kingdom formal scripts. Intercede with spirits."
She blinked. "You sound like a priest turned to war."
"Something like that." The Fire man smirked.
Song tried to avoid thinking of what that did to his mouth. "Wash your hands. I'll figure a price for you and your friend in the morning." She paused. "What are your names?"
"His name is Hakoda." The Fire man said as he strode over to the washbasin. "Mine is Lee."
Song's blood froze. His face, oh-
("My nephew was named after his father, so we just call him Junior.")
***
Lee chose to spend the night in the clinic with Hakoda. Song was more than happy for the Fire man to stay away from her home. Just knowing he was there in the clinic, knowing who his son was, left her unsettled for the rest of the day.
She woke in the middle of the night and dressed. Sometimes sleep left her long before dawn, and she found it was more comforting to check on her patients and animals than to lie awake in bed. The runner ducks cooed sleepily at her as she peeked into their duckcote, and the spiny hedgesow grumbled at her. She smiled, then went down the path to her clinic.
A lamp was lit inside, and Song paused in the back doorway as she heard someone singing softly.
"Now Zhani, be as good as your word,
Come try your faith with fire and sword.
Don't flee away like a frightened bird
Chased from its nest in the morning."
Lee had a good voice. As Song listened to him, though, she wondered why he sang that song as a lullaby. It mocked a battle lost and Zhani's cowardice, though Song couldn't say if it was Fire Nation history, legend, or both.
She stepped into the clinic, then smiled at the sight of Lee stroking Hakoda's hair as he sang. His expression was odd: intense, almost angry. But his touch on Hakoda's hair balanced that, and the softness of his singing made her wonder who the anger was actually directed at.
He glanced up as she walked into the room, bright eyes meeting hers. He didn't look like he'd slept, and she clucked her tongue at him. "You don't need to stay up for him. The only way he'll die in the night is if someone cuts his throat."
A smile flitted across his face, at her expense. "I don't sleep very much, Song-chan."
She didn't know the meaning of the syllable he attached to her name, but she guessed it wasn't polite. "Try."
He chuckled and ignored her, and she in turn ignored him while she checked on Hakoda. The Water Tribesman slept deeply, and none of his bandages had bled through. She changed them anyway, setting the bloody linen aside with the soap. After, she went outside to draw water from the wall. Cleaning the bandages would tire her enough to sleep again tonight, and it would let her keep an eye on Lee to be sure he slept.
***
Three days later, Hakoda was well enough to be unhappy at Song's continued insistance that he rest, and she was still no closer to working out a price for her services. In lieu of something specific and as payment for Hakoda occupying her clinic, she dragooned Lee into helping around her mother's small farm. It was the season to harvest and cure tobacco, a process which always needed too many hands.
"I suppose I could give you my firstborn," Lee said as he hung a bundle of tobacco leaves in the curing barn.
Song stared up at him, not entirely sure if he was joking. His sense of humor was odd, and there were times she thought he might be laughing only because she was. "I don't want him."
Lee shrugged. "He is a useless boy. Though perhaps he'll grow into someone of worth."
The way he said it made Song wonder if Junior had ever heard his father say something so kind about him. She said nothing to Lee, however; merely raised another stick of leaves up to him.
***
Song opened Hakoda's shirt and checked his wounds with deft hands. He'd finally stopped teasing her about her tendency not to ask before opening his clothes, but it still made him grin.
She liked his smile. It was warm, not sharp like Lee's.
"It looks like you'll be able to walk out of here tomorrow as long as you get a good night's sleep," she said cheerily.
"Been long enough," Hakoda said as he did his shirt back up. "It only took three days to get on my feet the last time I took that kind of damage. A full week is bit much."
She put her hands on her hips and gave him a stern look. "You're not as young as you used to be. Your body isn't going to heal as quickly as it did, and the less you push it when you take this kind of beating, the less permanent damage you'll do to yourself. Since neither you nor Lee need to be anywhere in a hurry, taking the time to take care of yourself is the wisest option."
He raised his hands in mock-surrender, but the smile seemed to fade a bit from his face. "Speaking of Lee..."
"He's helping Mother fire the tobacco," Song checked the supplies in her clinic, making note of herbs she needed to replace from the business she'd had with her neighbors during the week of Hakoda's stay.
"'Fire the tobacco'?" The Water Tribesman said, sounding wary.
"Yes. He's got a good hand with maintaining a hot, even burn. We'll have a much better supply than usual, thanks to him." She shrugged, adding, "It seems Firefolk with fire are good for something."
Hakoda snorted. "If only we could get more of them farming." Tension drained out of him, though, and he looked at her curiously. "You grow tobacco?"
"Tobacco and tea, for home, clinic, and sale, and enough wheat for most of our baking," Song answered, rattling off their crops as if she was at market. "Mother keeps a vegetable garden, and I keep a herb garden outside the clinic. We used to keep a few hives when I was younger, but I don't have time to tend them anymore."
"Has he been behaving himself?" The Water Tribesman asked in a quiet voice so unlike any other tone he'd used with her. It disturbed her on some fundamental level, and she turned to look at him. His expression was intent, serious, and his eyes were like chips of ice.
"He's... strange." She turned away to straighten jars that didn't need straightening. "Sometimes it's like no one ever taught him how to be human, but most of the time he acts like a nobleman who tolerates the existence of everyone around him but doesn't particularly like anyone." Except he liked Hakoda. Lee listened to her, too, and she was afraid to think about what that meant. "But he's been decent enough. Better than the last Fire person I met."
"That's good to hear."
Song tossed him an impish smile. "I don't know. If you let him steal my ostrich-horse when you leave, he'll be on par with the last two Firefolk through here."
Hakoda snorted. "His legs aren't broken. He can walk on his own two feet."
She hmmed in response, then went to find a broom to sweep the clinic floor with. When she returned, Hakoda was staring out the window. His gaze seemed distant, and she left him to his thoughts while she swept.
"We'll be leaving tomorrow," he said finally. "Did Lee ever settle payment with you?"
"No," she answered, "But the work he's been doing with the harvest has been good enough."
Hakoda nodded. "We could stay on longer. Get everything in. I could do some hunting around here."
Something sounded off in the offer, and Song paused in her sweeping. "-You'll be here until the first snow if you stay that long. Mother and I can manage the rest just fine. The hard part was the tobacco."
"Not too worried about winter traveling." Hakoda sounded like he was grinning.
She shrugged, not voicing the opinion that while he might not be, Lee would undoubtedly find it unpleasant. "There's no need to keep either of you here."
"Yes," he said. "I suppose you're right."
She resumed sweeping, mulling over his words. After she'd cleaned out the clinic and swept the porch, she came back inside and studied his profile. "Why do you want to leave him for a while?"
He flinched. Just slightly, but long experience had sharpened Song's eyes to other people's pain. "His son asked me to bring him home alive, and that boy is friend to my son." His fists clenched. "I gave my word, Song. I gave my word to bring him back alive, and if I stay around him for another week, I'll cut his throat."
Oh dear. Song blinked, then carefully went to put her broom away. When she came back, she sat down on the edge of another bed and folded her hands in her lap. She couldn't tell him Lee wasn't all that bad. She'd only known both men for a week, not for the obvious months they had known each other.
She took a breath. "How long do you want to be away from him, Hakoda?"
"A month if I could, but I can't." He shook his head, the beads in his hair bouncing lightly off his cheek. "Someone has to watch him."
"We still have a lot to get in for the harvest," Song said. "He'd be a lot of help to us if he stayed."
"No!" Hakoda jerked to look at her. "You can't- You have no idea who he is and what he's capable of. I won't leave him here with you."
"I know he's a firebender." Song leaned down and hiked up one side of her skirt, then rolled up her pantaloon legs to expose the ancient burn scars. "I'm not afraid of firebenders, Hakoda."
He stared at her scars, and unlike Junior, his gaze was not horrified. Sad, very sad, but... He touched his left shoulder. "My friend Bato took a heavy fireblast during the war. It seared his armor to his skin. His whole arm and part of his chest is scarred. But it's nothing like that."
"This was deliberately patterned," she said gently and rolled her pantaloon back down.
Hakoda said nothing for a long while, just staring at where the skirt of her hanbok covered her scarred leg. When he finally spoke, he sounded very tired and old. "He isn't a firebender. But he's still dangerous."
She wondered why he was lying to her about Lee's 'bending. She'd felt his skin, and she knew what fever skin on a Fire man meant now, unlike when she'd met Junior and Mushi. "I keep needles coated with sleep-jasmine in my braid. My mother taught me how to wear them without rubbing the drug off in my hair."
"Song..."
She folded her hands together in her lap. "You can stay if you want. You said you had a duty to bring him back alive, and you don't think you can do that as it stands. Maybe a little rest will do you both some good."
He took a long breath, and his hands clenched into fists. "Just because I don't think I can do something doesn't mean I'm right. I will not leave him alone with you."
"All right," she said simply. Sometimes her patients didn't want her help, and there was nothing she could do to force them to take it. Part of being a doctor was giving people the choice in whether they wanted to be healed or not.
There was a curious expression on Hakoda's face as she stood. It was as if he couldn't quite believe she wouldn't argue with him about this.
She wondered if he wanted to be argued out of his decision- Or if he wanted to strengthen his own resolve through argument.
***
"Hakoda tells me we're leaving in three days," Lee commented, glancing up from the tea leaves he was sorting through.
"Oh?" Song paused on her way through the barn. The runner ducks swirled around her feet, and she absent-mindedly swished her skirt at the ones trying to separate from the flock. "He should be able to leave tomorrow."
"Mmm. He seems to think you don't have enough meat for the winter." Lee's attention shifted back to sorting the tea leaves for the drying rack. He was halfway through the harvest from the looks of it. Her mother had been helping earlier, until afternoon waned into evening, and she needed to prepare dinner for everyone.
Water Tribesmen could be quite strange. Song and her mother would slaughter the hedgesow's last piglet before the first frost. Other than that, there were more than enough runner ducks for meat, though it was doubtful they'd slaughter very many. Eggs were worth more than meat.
"So he's going hunting?" she asked.
"Presumably. Though he could be going poaching."
Song gave Lee a dirty look. He merely smiled in response.
***
Sunrise the next morning found Hakoda gone from her clinic. She went to look for Lee and found him out in the barn, working through the last of the tea. She glared at him on general principles - did the man never sleep? He grinned at her.
Song sighed and fetched out the mending to work on while the light was good.
It was peaceful to work outside on the porch with her sewing. The sun warmed as it rose higher, and cool little breezes rustled through the leaves in the trees and swirled around her skirt. Near mid-morning, she set aside her mending to rest for a bit with her head against a pole, and her eyes half-closed.
A man came around the corner of the house from the direction of the barn, warm and broad, dressed in sturdy browns. Her heart leaped in her chest, and a half-formed thought filled her with warmth. Until she realized it was Lee, and she had to bite back a moue of disappointment.
It wasn't that hard, oddly enough.
"Hello, Song-chan."
"Lee." She picked up her mending again, running her fingers over the edge of the tear. "Is there something you need?"
"A bath."
She blinked and looked up at him. He raised an eyebrow. Well. He did seem like a noble, so it stood to reason he preferred to bathe more often than a peasant might. After all, he wouldn't have to do all the work involved in preparing a bath.
"If you bring the water in, I'll heat it for you," she said at last. "When I'm done with my mending."
Lee frowned but said nothing. Instead he wandered off in the direction of the tobacco plot, where she'd let the runner ducks loose to forage. She craned her neck to watch as he wandered in among the birds. They made anxious noises, but none seemed anxious enough to stop foraging. He settled down gingerly on the stone border around the plot, and the birds ignored him.
Song returned her attention to her mending. After finishing two pieces, she glanced over at him.
Lee had his eyes closed and his face tipped up to the sun. For some strange reason, her breath caught in her throat.
***
Song lifted the massive cauldron onto the stove then fed more wood into the fire so it would heat. She looked up to see Lee paused half in the doorway, a bucket of water swaying at each end of the yoke across his shoulders. His gold eyes were wide for an unguarded moment, then he smiled sharply and brought the water in.
She lifted the buckets and poured them into the cauldron, then sent him back out for more water. Some part of her wondered what had surprised him about her preparing a bath.
While she wondered, she went and fetched the tub from the barn. It was big enough for a man to stand in, though it only came up to her knees. Sometimes she wished they could spare a barrel to bathe in, but then the thought of bringing in all the water to fill it would catch up with her.
Lee returned with another pair of full buckets, and she got out the soft brown soap when he made his way back to the well.
He brought back several more buckets, until she had filled the cauldron almost to the brim. Then, while the water heated, Song went about preparing bread to bake for dinner. Lee stayed out of her way, except for a moment at the end of her mixing. Her cheek felt burned from the not-quite touch of his hand going past her face, two fingers dipping into the dough. He pulled back quickly, dough-covered fingers going into his mouth.
She made an annoyed sound and rapped her wooden spoon against his arm.
Lee blinked.
"You ask before you just dip your hands in," she scolded. "And you're here for a bath, Lee. If you think you're dirty, you shouldn't be touching food."
He chuckled and pulled his fingers out of his mouth, the motion entirely lewd. His gold eyes were brighter than she had ever seen, and she turned away from him hastily. The dough, she needed to cover the dough and take it down to the bread-baking hearth in the village as soon as the tub was set up.
"Now what, Song-chan?"
"When I finish with the dough, I'll take it to be baked. There's a heavy ladle over there you can use to fill the tub from the hot water, and there's soap," she replied. "Wash yourself, dry by the stove, get dressed, and pour out the water. Leave the cauldron on the stove, and I'll bathe when you're done."
Lee grunted in acknowledgment, and Song returned her attention to her bread-making. Until she heard the rustle of cloth hitting the ground.
She paused. "Lee?"
"Hm?"
"It's bad enough you're a stange man all alone in the house with me, but please tell me you're wearing clothes."
She could practically hear his smile. "Now why would I lie to you, Song-chan?"
Song picked up her bowl and covered it with a cloth. Oh. Her hands were shaking. How odd. "I see." At least her voice wasn't. "Well. Do enjoy your bath, Lee. I need to get this baked so we'll have bread for tomorrow."
"Of course."
She darted out of the kitchen, letting the door slam shut behind her. She did not glance back over her shoulder, not once.
No matter how much she wanted to.
***
That afternoon, she returned home with fresh-baked bread and her jaw set. She would not be chased out of her own home by that man. She would take a bath, and he would not- Her cheeks grew hot as some possibilities slithered around in her mind, just nebulous enough for her to avoid grasping them.
The kitchen was empty when she strode inside. The empty tub leaned against the wall, and the cauldron still sat on the stove. The fire underneath was low, though, deliberately so. The way her mother would leave it when she wanted the fire to keep going unattended without fuel.
"Mother?"
"What is it, Song?" Her mother called from the main room of the house.
"Where's Lee?"
There was a pause, and then Lee answered. "Here."
Song bit her lip. He didn't have to sound so... He didn't have to sound so anything, except he did. "I baked bread for tonight, Mother. I was thinking of using some of the duck eggs to make the bread for tomorrow. Or trade with Chen for some cherries. The apples are just about ripe; I could pick a few. The maple sap won't be running for months yet; do you think I could get out a pan of sugar and make something? Or should we save it?"
Her mother entered the kitchen in a soft stirring of cloth. "You're craving fruit?"
It was an innocent question, and Song's hands froze. She stared down at the bread. Fruit. Tart fruit. The last time she craved something tart-
(She was standing in the streets of Ba Sing Se, wearing the minister's robe and drawing odd looks. Her body hummed with the remembered feel of the man's hands and the taste of his skin.
She bought a plum and licked tart juices off her hands to wipe him away.)
No, Mother didn't know about that. She didn't know hardly anything of those few months after Lee had come, when Song had run and run and run. Chasing after a boy she never found, but finding something better instead.
What Mother remembered was the day after Lee and Old Man Mushi took Tuo Ma, when Song had dipped strawberries in sugar and eaten nothing else at all that day. Because- Because. The tartness of the strawberries made the sweetness of the sugar more pronounced.
Or the time before that, when Yang tried to get her alone in the barn and she stabbed him with her needles. Her mother had found her in the blackberry thicket, her mouth and clothes stained purple.
"It's nothing," Song said quickly. "I just thought it would be nice to have some apples."
Her mother gave her a stern look, then glanced over her shoulder. When she turned back to Song, she spoke in a very low voice. "Has something happened that I should know about, Song?"
"No." Song set the bread on a shelf and walked over to pull the tub out into the room. "My courses will be coming soon, I expect. It's making me... flustered. That's all."
"Of course," her mother said mildly. She went to the stove and fed the fire up. "You're a grown woman, Song, and a doctor. I don't need to remind you of the consequences of becoming unflustered."
"Of course not, Mother."
"Enjoy your bath." Her mother gave her a gentle little hug and went back into the main room, closing the door behind her.
Song dropped the tub to the floor with a clunk. Steam began to rise from the water on the stove, and she stared at it. It was only mid-afternoon, she thought. She should do her chores first and then take her bath. There was no point in scrubbing herself just to get dirty again immediately afterwards.
Maybe she could sneak an apple from the trees in the garden without Mother noticing.
***
Dawn found her in the clinic, checking the stock of all the supplies. She'd woken up sometime in the night again. The animals were all asleep, and she actually caught Lee sleeping for the first time since he had walked into her life. He slept the sleep of the just, which amused her far more than she thought it ought to.
Heng came by for a healing session. He'd torn his left leg badly while she was gone, and it had taken her most of the year to get him well enough to mostly not need her. It would still take her months to undo the damage. She helped him to pull his leg up on a bench, then stacked chrysoprase on bloodstone onto his leg. The tension in his shoulders drained away, and he even smiled at her. "Thanks, Song."
"You're welcome." She laid out her acupuncture needles and studied his leg. "I'm sorry I wasn't here to do it right the first time."
He shrugged. "Just bad luck your mom had twins to deliver. Well. Bad luck for me. Both of them lived, you know, and they're still living."
"Yes." She smiled. "So I've heard."
Heng nodded, looking at her with warm eyes. The handsome farmer's son had never looked at her that way before. It should have made her heart flutter, she thought, but-
(The look in Lee's eyes as he pulled his fingers out of his mouth-)
She patted his knee and slid a needle into his skin. "I should be done by mid-morning."
***
After Heng left, Song went home to do the chores now that it had warmed some. She heard the thunk of axe into wood and went around to the back of the house to find her mother.
She didn't find her mother. She found Lee with his shirt off as he chopped wood. Sweat sheened his skin, and the muscles of his back tightened as he swung the axe back for another blow. The loose clothes he favored had hidden his muscles; she'd never realized how sculpted his body was. Nor, she realized as light caught strangely on his skin, how scarred.
He swung the axe forward, and her mouth went dry as his muscles shifted.
Lee paused and swung the axe up to rest the haft on his shoulder. He wiped sweat from his brow and pushed his long hair back with irritation.
"You could tie it back," Song suggested.
He whirled, the axe coming down into a guard position, his eyes wide and lips pulled back to bare teeth. He never quite hit an entirely ready stance; she saw him recognize her and pull himself out of it. But the flash of that expression made her heart stutter, and she had to fold her hands together to keep them from trembling.
"You shouldn't sneak up on people, Song-chan." Lee rested the axe-blade flat against his leg. His chest rose in quick breaths for all his apparent ease.
"I didn't sneak," she said tartly, her fingers squeezing her hands hard. "Who can sneak with all these leaves crunching underfoot?"
He tilted his head slightly, regarding her. Then he threw back his head and laughed. "Oh, Song-chan."
"I was looking for Mother," she said when his laughter died. "Do you know where she is?"
He nodded his head towards the house.
"Thank you." Song turned away and strode towards the house, wondering when her heart would stop pounding. Lee was a dangerous, dangerous man, and she'd been a fool to forget it.
Except, some part of her whispered, she hadn't forgotten, had she? The minister had been an eminently dangerous man, hadn't he, and she'd-
She strangled the thought as the sound of wood-chopping resumed.
***
That evening, she found Lee on the porch with his head turned towards the setting sun. His eyes were closed, but his expression tightened with anger when she stepped up beside him.
"You're blocking the light," he growled.
"Mm." Song swept her skirts up and settled next to him. Her hands rested on her knees, and the fingers of her right hand curled pleasantly as she felt the aura of heat the Fire man put off. Mm.
Slowly, Lee relaxed again, not opening his eyes but still following the sun's path down the sky and behind the trees. His heat never faded, though she'd always heard stories that firebending was more difficult at night. (But Hakoda said he wasn't a firebender.)
After the sun disappeared entirely and all that was left of the day was a fading brightness in the west, Lee opened his eyes. He blinked, tilted his head slightly at an angle as he looked at her. "It is not so cold a night yet that you need to be quite that close, Song-chan."
She flushed as she realized how close she had sat down beside this dangerous (attractive) man. She made no effort to move, though. "It'll be colder than you think tonight, Lee. Autumn falls to winter in the darkness."
His mouth curved in something too wicked for her to want to call it a smile. "So you thought to find a fire more flexible than your stove-fire? Well, I've certainly got a more interesting handle than your kettles."
The back of her hand struck his upper arm. "Don't be lewd, Lee."
His eyes narrowed, and his hand flashed out serpent-quick to wrap strong fingers around her wrist. "Careful with your touch, Song-chan."
She shivered as he tugged gently on her hand and didn't resist as he raised it up to his mouth. She did not know if she expected a bite or a kiss, but she received neither. He breathed fire-warm breath on the palm of her hand, and her fingers curled, brushing against his face and beard. Oh. Oh, she wanted more of that.
"A man can be devastated by a woman's touch," Lee murmured and let her hand drop.
She wrapped her arms around herself as he stood and walked away.
***
The air was chill when Song opened her eyes, and it was still night. She knew in her bones that the sun would rise in two hours, but her body had decided it was time to wake up now. She sighed, slipped out from under the blanket, dressed but didn't unpin her hair, and padded out of the little house to check on the animals. The moon was full and bright, and she didn't bother with a lantern.
The hedgesow snorted at her when she checked its pen. She smiled in the dark, then her feet turned in the direction of the woods. She needed to find where the runner ducks had bedded down for the night.
As she passed by the barn, a presence slipped up behind her.
"I know why I don't sleep, but what wakes you in the night, Song-chan?" Lee's voice rasped in the darkness, the sound making her skin prickle.
She licked her lips; they felt too dry and stiff all of a sudden. "It's nothing, Lee. Go back to sleep. I didn't mean to wake you."
"You didn't," he said, sounding amused. There was a rustle of leaves as he stepped closer, and her back warmed from his body-heat. "Your hair is up," he said softly. "I had wondered what it looked like loose, but this..."
His fingertips skimmed gently over her spine, and her toes curled at the jolt of sensation from his touch.
"It's easier to sleep with the braid pinned up," she said, trying to bring to mind her mother's warnings about strangling in her braid. But all she could think of was the sound of Lee's voice as he talked about her hair flowing loose.
She liked the way his voice sounded.
"I wouldn't have imagined so." His voice was suddenly much closer now, his breath warming the shell of her ear. She almost thought she could feel the movement of air between his lips and her skin. "But I wouldn't have imagined many things before I walked into your clinic."
Her hands tightened in her skirts. "Like what?"
She heard his smile. "Like the taste of duck eggs cooked with hard yellow cheese. The smell of tobacco curing. The sight of your eyes when you saw me chopping wood."
Song sucked in a breath.
His hand wrapped around her upper arm, thumb rubbing against the material of her jeogori. "The feel of this..."
She felt her bones melt and her body settle back against his. He was muscled and hot, and she felt his hand tighten on her arm as she tipped her face up to his. Lightning jolted through her as his mouth touched hers, and she arched into the kiss.
Lee kissed hungrily. There was an intensity in the feel of his lips on hers; he would devour all she had to give and take what she did not. He would consume her, use her as fuel-
She broke the kiss and broke away with a gasp. "Lee-!"
"Was there ever a lovelier sight?" He murmured, his eyes bright and his hand feeling as if it was burning through the cloth of her sleeve. "Color in your cheek like a rose, your lips swollen with my kisses?"
"I need to find the runner ducks," she stammered. The taste of him- She wanted to lick her lips, to capture more of that taste. But if she did, she'd kiss him again. She'd kiss him, and she'd- She didn't have any protection!
"Runner ducks," he said, his grip on her loosening. "Really?"
"Really." Her hands settled on her skirts, catching fabric between her fingers to prevent herself from reaching out to grab Lee and pull herself close.
"Now?"
"Now."
"Well," he said, his tone sliding almost to mockery and almost to wonder, "Perhaps you should go and find them."
He let go of her arm, and Song turned briskly towards the edge of the fields. She walked quickly and refused to look back. There were sheaths at the clinic, she thought, and Mama would assume any of them going missing meant Song had given them out to a village girl. Which was true, she was a village girl herself...
***
The day dragged. Crisp autumn breezes toyed with Song's clothes, little shivery thoughts running down her spine as she wished for someone else to be fluttering her skirts. It was her mother's day at the clinic, but Song found she could hardly do anything around the farm without her feet taking her to find Lee. After the fourth mumbled excuse, she fled to the clinic.
Warmth burned low in her stomach, slowly uncurling when she thought of the way he'd smiled at her and her basket of apples.
She thought of his beard and wondered if it would feel as silky as his hair under her fingers. She thought of Ba Sing Se and the things in some of their books (of the Minister), and the vision of Lee's beard against her thigh made her cheeks flush.
The sun crawled across the sky.
***
"Lee," she called softly as she pushed open the barn door. Warm light spilled out into the grey dusk; Lee sat in a circle of lamplight, his shirt crumpled in his hands and his eyes blazing as he looked up at her.
She gulped. Suddenly she felt uncertain; what had happened in the dark had been spontaneous, thoughtless. But she'd run away - what if he didn't want her anymore? Men could sometimes get into terrible sulks if their egos were bruised.
"Song-chan," he said, eyes on her as he rose to his feet. His hair clung to his shoulders, and his full mouth curved into a desirous smile.
Heat curled in her belly as his shirt dropped from his fingers.
"I brought a sheath," she said, her cheeks growing hot as she walked towards him. "I didn't want to-"
"Of course." His smile didn't change as he reached for her, gently pulling her close against his body. "You do not need my child, Song-chan."
After the cool night outside, his firebender warmth made her sigh in pleasure. She wrapped an arm around his waist, her fingers stroking the seat of his pants. She felt hard muscle under there, curved in a way that made her just want to take a handful.
His hands tightened on her, and Lee dipped his head to kiss her. This time there wasn't a jolt of lightning, just the steady spread of red fire through her body. She craved every moment his lips touched hers, every circle of his fingers against the small of her back. She wanted more - his hands and mouth on her breasts, his hands between her legs, his cock-
She pressed herself wantonly against him, her fingers digging into his ass. She reached up with her other hand to stroke his hair, then grabbed hold as he hefted her up. Her legs wrapped around his waist, and she rubbed against him, pressing her jeogori-covered breasts against his chest, her center against the hardness she could feel through all their layers of clothes.
"Damn it!" Hakoda snapped, and Song froze in the kiss.
Lee very gently broke the kiss and lifted his head. "Hakoda. Back so soon?"
Song snuck a look over her shoulder. The Water Tribesman stood in the door of the barn, a deerhare slung over his shoulders and a brace of birds in one hand. His lips were peeled back from his teeth, his eyes hard with fury.
"Put the girl down, Lee."
She wondered at the odd emphasis on Lee's name.
"She wants this," Lee purred. "I want this. Is that wrong?"
Song nodded, loosening her legs from around his waist so she could stand under her own power. "It's all right, Hakoda..."
"If I thought you knew who you were getting involved with," Hakoda said, his voice tight with anger, "I would turn around now. But you don't. Get away from her, Lee."
Again, the same odd emphasis, like he was throwing Lee's name at him.
"I want this," Song said firmly. "I want him. I know who he is-"
Lee's hands tightened on her waist. "You aren't her father, Hakoda. You don't get to choose for her."
"You have no idea who he is, Song," Hakoda said softly. "Does he know about the scars on your leg? The scar he gave his son wasn't nearly so pretty."
Her knees went weak. "Lee...?"
But he didn't deny it at all, and she stumbled back from him. Thoughts whirled through her head, memories of how Junior had been so wary of compassion. But his own father-! His own father had scarred him- She'd wondered what Junior and Mushi were running from, those Fire men pretending to be refugees. Mushi had obviously loved Junior, though, and if Lee had done that to his son...
Tears stung her eyes. Frantically, she looked at Hakoda but his expression was hard and cold on Lee. She shook her head, braid thumping against her back.
Lee reached up and brushed his hair back from his face. "He earned it."
Song turned and ran.
***
In the morning, Hakoda helped her hang the butchered deerhare in the smokehouse. He tried to speak to her several times, but she had nothing to say to him.
When they were done, she said, "Thank you. Good journey."
Then she walked back to her house, stepping around where Lee stood on the path without looking at the man.
-End-