Reset, Part 1/(2?)
Jet, Zuko, and a typical night in Ba Sing Se. The smugglers are new. Nothing else is.
Alternate timeline from City of Walls and Secrets
Pairings : None
Warnings: None
Based on this image, created by ferrrox
Zuko's slow return to consciousness was far from pleasant. One of the back-alley troublemakers had landed a heavy punch to his cheek, leaving a throbbing bruise that matched the hit that had glanced off his jaw. The mask had protected him at first, but someone had worked out that his vision was weaker on his left side. They'd used that advantage to rip the flimsy ties of the new Blue Spirit mask. It was a small consolation that Jet had very similar injuries, at least from what Zuko could see in the dim light of the room. Both of them had their arms behind their back, with rope immobilizing them from elbow to waist, and neither had swords. He let his head fall back when he heard a noise, only to find a mulicorn's rear just a foot away. Its tail was brushing his neck.
“You're up,” Jet said. He sounded relieved, at least for the moment. There wouldn't be any thanks for saving him from the Dai Li-again-but Zuko wasn't doing this for Jet, exactly.
“Did they knock you out, too?” Zuko didn't rush into sitting up, still taking stock of any other injuries. His legs were fine this time, with only a couple minor bruises on the knees, and his shoulders hadn't had time to get stiff. His hands would hurt when he got the feeling back, but he would know if they were covered in blood. That left his head, but for once luck wasn't working against him. He would have an impressive black eye, to complement the scarred one, but Uncle wouldn't worry too much if there wasn't a concussion.
“I think so.” Jet frowned, coming dangerously close to that thoughtful twitch of expression when he almost understood.
Zuko distracted him. After so much practice, it was easy to guess at the right tack. “Good. What have they been saying?”
In answer, Jet came as near to bashful as he ever would. It wasn't particularly close. “You're really the Blue Spirit?”
The most obvious response ('I brought you out of a top-secret facility controlled by brainwashing nutcases while wearing the mask, didn't I') wasn't even an instinct anymore. “Yeah,” he said instead. “You heard about Pohuai.”
Jet nodded, without the usual enthusiasm or even the occasional surprising touch of hero-worship. “The bad part is that our captors did, too. They want to sell you to the Fird Lord for a bounty.”
This was the part of the night where things got hard. Jet's knives had been lost long ago, and every last pair of hookswords that any of them could find would vanish the instant Jet wandered away from direct supervision. Sometimes, Jet could ignore two different hands on his shoulders and hand the hookswords away, or sell them, or just walk away after leaving them on a bench. (One vendor in the area was especially clever. He'd always offer the dazed Earth Kingdom lad a generous price for the paired swords, knowing that ten minutes later a scar-faced boy would come buy them back. The vendor thought that Jet was a disturbed young man that couldn't bear owning weapons he wouldn't need that also couldn't let go of an inheritance from his father. Zuko never corrected him.)
“We need to get out of here, then.” Zuko pulled himself up, no easy task with his arms bound behind him and his legs already tired from the earlier running, and rested against a crate when more or less upright. The most colorful of the pea-pigeon, the patriarch of the little flock on top of that crate and on the cask Jet was using as a rest, chirped a stern warning at Zuko. Satisfied with that chastisement, the pea-pigeon turned his attention back to the little hens. “Animal smugglers have really good connections,” Zuko said, guessing what it would mean to see two rare species of animals in one side room. “They like to sell to people rich enough to keep their own private menageries.”
“Do you know why they want me?”
“You probably saw too much,” Zuko answered, knowing that it's always a safe guess. Jet had finally come far enough to realize that his short-term memory is worth nothing, and seemed to perpetually suspect himself of hitting his head hard enough to knock some memory loose.
Zuko couldn't decide if he should feel pity or envy for the trick of losing all of the terrible things that he'd done. One one of the rare nights that Smellerbee had actually felt like talking, she'd lingered over four consecutive cups of tea to talk about the time that they'd met the Avatar. Longshost hadn't contributed any words to the conversation, maybe, but his expression said volumes to anybody that had known Mai.
Jet nodded slowly, and within the span of seconds shifted from confusion to anger. "The bastards took my knife.”
Zuko wasn't much of a liar, and would never be much of a manipulator, but time and trial and error had proven that he can lead Jet the way he wanted. It was all too easy to look unhappy and uneasy, first, then to let it shift into thoughtfulness. He was still rather irritated that Uncle had felt the need to coach him through such an easy strategy, but Smellerbee hadn't laughed, and Longshot had shaken his head once in a while to make them shift the plan in some better direction.
“You have an idea?” Jet asked, all of that anger and rage fading into hope.
“You won't like it,” Zuko warned, again, wondering just how many times that Jet would have to learn. “Just remember that they want to turn me into the Fire Lord.” He tilted his head a touch, then, to bring attention to the color of his eyes. It wasn't hard. Jet's eyes had already narrowed, and he was looking for the faintest trace of Fire Nation. It was hard to miss, with Zuko, but the scar seemed to help people get the wrong impression.
It was cruel, since Zuko had first-hand experience of the fear that paralyzed Jet when fire whirled around then, but they didn't have the time for a yelling fight or a tearful confession or a half-wondering acceptance, whatever one Jet would have chosen for the day. Instead. Zuko swept out with his leg, controlling the fire in a burst of radiance and heat. The pea-pigeons shrieked instantly, the usual cooing lost in the cacophony of sounds the little birds could make when actually scared, which neatly covered up Jet's strangled exclamation.
When the fire died just heartbeats later, the birds settled into uneasy silence. The ropes were gone, and the only sound beyond Jet's heavy breathing was the mulicorn placidly munching hay behind them. Zuko stood, pointedly brushing away the few fragments of rope left on his clothes, and took control before Jet had time to move onto whatever emotional reaction it would be for the night.
“We need to get out of here.” Zuko's voice was harsh, but gentler tones never worked. “If you'll swear to leave my uncle out of any fight you want to pick, I'll bring you to your friends.”
Usually, the angry tone would work until they were both clear of whatever enemies Jet had found, but sometimes Jet was just as impossible as the Avatar had always been. “Where are you keeping them?” Jet hissed, slowly rising to his feet with all the grace of tiger-swan. He was the most annoying to deal with on those nights, when fighting competence seemed to be the strongest tile he had to play, but escaping was always the easiest.
“They paid me to find you,” Zuko said coolly, because both Smellerbee and Longshot agreed that this was the idea least likely to catch the attention of Jet's paranoid mind. “They are staying with my uncle for their safety. I didn't mean to find you by getting caught by the same group of smugglers, but it certainly worked. I'll tell them where you go in any case, but I won't let you near my uncle if you won't leave him alone.”
Sometimes, Jet made dark threats against the old firebenders that had been the worst in what little of the army Jet had seen. Sometimes he demanded what anyone worth saving would do with a person like Zuko. On rare occasions, he would agree to leave Uncle alone. Tonight, Jet nodded thoughtfully, with that glint in his eye that meant he'd found some loophole.
The phrasing had never resulted in trouble for Uncle, even if it made it all the more likely that Zuko would be fighting paired hookswords the next day, again drawing the attention of the Dai Li. It was the best that Zuko would get, when Jet was in the mood to fight anyone in his path and to hate firebenders with an intensity that frightened his friends. Zuko never asked for more, on these nights. He opened the door slowly, knowing that Jet would burst into the hallway with no sense of stealth, and quickly take a step to the left to scan for opponents. Zuko had the guard coming from the right on the ground and unconscious before Jet could turn.
Jet, of course, said nothing, but looked mildly less angry when he saw something gleam just across the hall. He emerged with two hookswords, paired weapons of a quality Zuko hadn't seen for weeks. Zuko walked past him carefully, but Jet didn't yell to their enemies or sink the sharp blade of a hook into his back. (Zuko still had the scar from that night a week ago. The sword had been just an inch away from Zuko's spine, and had left a deep puncture that had bled sluggishly for two hours. Smellerbee had tried her best to patch it, but in the end Uncle had cauterized it for lack of any better medicine.)
Zuko found both of his swords. The mask would be lost, if the ranking thieves were still arguing about how to collect money on the Blue Spirit, but the once-rare opera mask was rapidly increasing in popularity. So far, the Dai Li had no idea just how their most aggravating prisoner kept escaping, but Zuko knew that his luck wouldn't last much longer.
Jet's memory was an odd thing, after so many times with that madman twisting his mind against itself over and over. It was like the paper-games that Lu Ten had shown him, once. If you pasted a strip of paper into a loop, then you had a circle. If you twisted it, though, just one half-twist, you could take a brush and paint a line down both sides of the odd little creation. Zuko had played with that bit of paper for almost an hour, pestering Lu Ten and then Uncle with questions about how it worked. Azula had looked at it for perhaps five seconds before setting the bit of parchment on fire.
It had only been going on for three weeks, maybe, but it felt like longer when this repeated itself almost every single night. He and Jet had left the smuggler's den without further incident, and they took to the rooftops. (They always did when Jet was feeling confident. One night, when even arrogance had failed Jet, Zuko had taken half of the next day to get Jet back to his friends. They always held the vigil at Zuko and Uncle's cramped apartment. Uncle wouldn't even considered moving to the Upper Ring and his own shop until Jet was taken care of, one way or another. Pao was delighted, and had adjusted Uncle's wages appropriately.)
Jet didn't say much on the way back, and didn't realize that Zuko didn't need to spend that much time in the lead. Sure enough, though, Jet stopped at the rooftop with the best view down at the apartment, and nearly swayed with the force of mostly-forgotten memories.
Sometimes, Jet wanted to talk. Zuko hated those nights the most.
The full moon caught Jet's attention, leaving no room to break the silence with words. It was for the best, as Zuko never seemed to say the right things. Uncle would, and Smellerbee certainly tried, and even Longshot had unwound enough to speak twice in Zuko's hearing, but somehow Zuko was always the one listening as Jet's mind circled around and around the truth.
Zuko started down the ladder. The Dai Li would still be near Lake Laogai at the time of night, and never seemed to expect that Jet would vanish in the middle of the night. They tended to sound their alarms an hour after dawn on their fastest days.
Jet followed a minute later, and looked much happier about the idea when Smellerbee leaned out of the apartment window to wave at them. Jet didn't relax until they were through the door, of course, but things always were easier when Smellerbee could launch herself at Jet for a hug and Longshot could nod from his usual place at the table. Zuko left them alone for those first few minutes. Once, Jet had been nothing but complimentary about his rescuer, but usually it took a full cup of tea to begrudgingly accept a firebender.
Zuko cleaned his swords carefully. He had only lost his weapons once, but it was much harder to replace the twin dao blades. People were starting to look around for the Blue Spirit, very slowly, and the last thing they needed was attention. He'd have to find a mask, again, but Smellerbee had started taking care of that for him. When he gave up on straightening his part of the room, he walked into the usual conversation. Jet wasn't convinced, maybe, but he wasn't ready to go running for the Dai Li.
He could have taken Uncle aside, but then Jet would be suspicious and Smellerbee would have to talk him down all over again.
Zuko straightened the flyer as best he could, smoothing it against the hard wood of the table, but it had been soaked after his unexpected dip in Lake Laogai. The later run through the compound's halls and the streets hadn't helped, especially since the Dai Li had taken to casually mentioning the Earth King and an invitation to Lake Laogai all throughout their patrol. It had taken Zuko all of the first week to realize that those words always came right before one of Jet's extremely homicidal turns of mind, but the entire city was starting to take up the words. Jet hadn't gone longer than two days without losing everything, and never remembered meeting Lee on the ferry. He didn't even remember the ferry, lately, and the details about Jet's encounter with the Avatar were starting to waver.
The flyer alone hadn't drawn enough attention. “The Avatar is here.”
Uncle looked worried and Jet looked puzzled, but both of Jet's freedom fighters looked warily hopeful.
Zuko had wanted someone else to say it. “Uncle, you said that a waterbender would be able to help him, if anybody could.”
Jet shook his head, more embarrassed than Zuko had ever seen him. “Katara? She might help me if I was on fire, but... hey, what about it, Blue?”
Longshot raised a brow.
Jet scowled at his friend, but even that expression had all the touches of Jet's usual ease in planning and teasing. “Fine, so we can come up with something a little more workable, but I bet my swords that she's still holding a grudge. She still might do it, though, in case I've figured out anything useful.”
“The Avatar's bison is by the lake, I think,” Zuko offered. There was no use being specific, when 'Lake Laogai' would mean dodging swords, and none of them talked about any other lake. “They were moving something in while I was on my way out tonight. I didn't have time to look, but they had chains ready for something way bigger than a Komodo rhino.”
“Hm,” Uncle said, tapping the side of his teacup quietly. He had an idea, and he didn't think it was very dangerous. “There was something about a Bei Fong visiting the Upper Ring, and there have been several whispers about a missing blind daughter approximately the age of a remarkable young woman I met just before we encountered Lee's sister. I believe that I will be able to invite her to join me in a second cup of tea.”
Zuko had ran for the bedroom just after the word 'invite.' It wasn't cowardice. It was long experience. Jet's swords were resting at his side, and the last thing Zuko needed was a third fight tearing through their quarters when they had finally replaced all of the furniture. Jet had been between Smellerbee and Longshot, this time, and Uncle had nothing more dangerous than a cup of tea in his hand. Smellerbee rapidly explained the situation, calming Jet down faster than ever. (All of them had learned through previous mistakes which words to avoid, even if 'invite' alone had never caused an episode. Five days before, 'Earth King' had been all that it took. 'Lake' might be next.)
Zuko waited for the all-clear knock on the table. Jet was always disoriented when coming back from one of his attacks, and barely noticed someone appearing from the back of the apartment.
“I will visit the Avatar tomorrow,” Uncle said firmly, when all of them (even Zuko) had finished another cup of tea. “Smellerbee, if you will be able to handle the shop on your own...” He smiled when she nodded firmly. “Very good. Longshot, you and Jet will stay here to recover from- ah- the unfortunate blow to the young man's head. Lee, you will take a message to the Upper Ring.”
“Uncle?”
“You can leave it at Lady Bei Fong's door, or pay someone to deliver it directly, but you have the most practice of slipping over the wall. If you are not overtired, it may be easiest for you to act tonight.”
Smellerbee and Longshot didn't ask. They had decided a week and a half ago that they'd rather not know the particulars of Mushi and Lee's pasts, and Zuko and his uncle had returned the favor. Jet was still too dazed to ask questions, and might be dazed enough to buy them a full hour without an interrogation.
It was getting worse, and every time it took longer for Jet to start asking questions about what had happened.
Zuko had time to find his swords again, and to find the black outfit that he preferred. The night before, Jet's swords had come much too close for comfort, leaving the sleeves half in shreds. He had been forced to go out in Fire Nation colors, not the dark colors he preferred now, but Uncle had mended his things while sitting the nightly vigil with Longshot and Smellerbee. Their lives would be easier if they could lock Jet in a closet and keep him there, but that would make them hardly better than the Dai Li. So they let Jet have his freedom, even if it meant finding him again nearly every night.
He smiled to find a spare mask tucked under his pillow. He had only needed two replacements so far, but Smellerbee must have found one at the market earlier that day. Zuko wrote up the invitation himself while Smellerbee and Uncle pulled Jet into the conversation, remembering the calligraphy that he hadn't used in what felt like forever, being sure to phrase it appropriately as would befit a distinguished general inviting an unchaperoned young woman to tea.
Uncle read over the invitation as if it were a court dissertation, giving his full approval, and everyone looked relieved with the idea of leaving the Blue Spirit to ask a favor from the Avatar. Zuko was hoping to find the waterbender awake, drawn by the full moon, and spent the entire trip from the Lower Ring to the fanciest district of Ba Sing Se planning how to get through the exchange without finding a way to offend her. Uncle was sure that she would be able to help Jet, and Zuko knew that nothing else would do any good, so it had to be her.
He didn't find the waterbender, of course, but it was very easy to find the house. The Avatar was sitting on the roof. Zuko hesitated, and nearly dropped the invitation just inside the front door, but he wanted this task done. He wanted the idiot Earth Kingdom terrorist to be healed so that he could be someone else's responsibility, even if it meant facing his own past.
The Avatar saw him, of course, but was too surprised, shocked, or polite to start a fight. Zuko reached the roof without any difficulty, except realizing all over again that the Avatar was a child. Zuko wouldn't subject Jet to the Fire Nation's idea of justice, even after all the time saving him from himself. Especially after that. Zuko was uncomfortably sure that the same applied to the Avatar.
Zuko should have known that it was too easy, getting away from the conversation with Jet. Things always evened out. “Avatar.”
The boy's eyes widened dramatically, as if he hadn't known already. “Zuko!”
Zuko stayed back, not giving any reason for the Avatar to start a fight. “I think you know someone called Jet.”
That hadn't been what the boy suspected. The named earned a scowl-probably what they would think of him, Zuko thought. “Yeah. I know him,” the boy said curtly.
“He's... hurt,” Zuko said inadequately, thinking of the last three weeks and all of the ways that a person could lose themselves. “In his mind. Uncle thinks that Katara would be able to help him. If he was healed,” he continued, feeling inspired, “he'd be able to tell you a lot more about the flying furball.” Zuko probably knew more than Jet did, but he'd be sure to pass on the information as soon as Jet was healed.
If the boy's eyes got any wider, they would probably fall out. “Appa?” he whispered.
“I think the Dai Li have your bison. I wasn't in the right area for long, but they had...” Somehow, he didn't want to mention the chains, but now the boy was expecting the worst. “There were chains in place for something very, very big. I could show you the right area, but you really shouldn't go there alone. The Dai Li don't want to admit that there's a war at all. They wouldn't take kindly to...”
The boy was actually laughing, confusing Zuko so much that his words trailed into nothing. “Sorry, it's just... we met Long Feng, and he isn't a fan. But you really found Appa?”
“Not yet. I just think I know where they're keeping him. Jet was imprisoned for disturbing the peace.” Zuko held out the invitation, which had been tied around the hilt of a sword. “Uncle wants to talk to Lady Bei Fong again, to ask her to persuade the waterbender into helping. If she can heal, like she said, then she's the only one that can heal Jet. Even if he doesn't know about the bison, he would be able to tell you more about the Dai Li.”
“Okay,” Aang said, only looking at the invitation long enough to read Toph's name. “Um. How did you find me?”
Zuko held out the very wrinkled flyer that had survived a dip in Lake Laogai, a large amount of firebending, and traveling halfway around Ba Sing Se. The address was neatly written at the bottom.
“Oh.” Aang blushed, the pink reaching nearly all of his still-bald head. “Um, thanks.”
Neither of them knew what to say, it seemed, and Zuko's bruised eye was throbbing under the mask. “Uncle says that he and Toph have spoken before.”
“Toph said she met somebody before Azula-um. Yeah. I'll tell her.” Aang had managed to blush before the previous effects had gone, leaving him pink enough that the blue of his tattoos looked strange.
“Firebending is... my uncle wants to help you,” Zuko said stiffly. His uncle had been at risk for weeks, now, just as much as Zuko. It didn't matter that only one of them was breaking into Lake Laogai on multiple occasions and causing havoc nearly every night. Uncle was the Dragon of the West, and he was inside the city he had nearly destroyed. “If you will swear to me that he won't be hurt...” Zuko trailed off, realizing that the usual threats just wouldn't come anymore, but Aang was nodding quickly.
“I swear in the name of my mentor, Gyatso,” Aang agreed without reservation. “We won't hurt him, and we definitely wouldn't let the Dai Li have him. Katara is probably going to be really mad to see Jet, but I think she'll still help him.”
Zuko nodded, and that was enough. Aang turned as the waterbender made her way onto the roof, and Zuko disappeared in the tradition of the mask. He could hear their voices for a time, and that was enough. Aang sounded calm, and the waterbender would sound much angrier if she realized just what the Avatar had promised.
Getting back to Pao's teashop was easy, just as it always was. Earthbenders were formidable fighters on their element, perhaps, but hardly any of them ever thought to look up. His night should have been over there, and for once he'd be able to sleep a little past dawn without throwing on the apron and opening the shop a half hour after sunrise.
He let himself in through the half-open window, as usual, to find everyone in their usual positions. Smellerbee was curled on the soft chair near the stove, Uncle was snoring quietly in the bedroom, and Longshot was standing guard at the door. Zuko didn't know why they kept paying for their little apartment, except maybe to have a place that was their own. Somewhere that they could go when Jet was finally better. Longshot waited until Zuko had the mask off before nodding and taking his usual place, the thin mattress by the door.
Jet was sitting at the table, sipping tea contentedly. He looked unsurprised when Zuko came through the window, but something in his expression caught when the mask came off. “Hey, that's a pretty nasty scar. Do anything to the firebender that gave it to you?”
It had been a very long three weeks of watching this happen again and again. Zuko wondered what word it had been this time, that Jet had forgotten three times in one night, and hoped it was “earth.” It would be a lot harder to avoid saying “the” for however long it took Aang to coax the waterbender into fixing the temperamental Freedom Fighter. Jet could be an enemy to all of them with his mind intact, maybe, but Zuko was beginning to think that he wouldn't wish the Dai Li's mindbending on anyone. He couldn't imagine this happening to his sister, or to any of the Avatar's friends. Jet was slowly forgetting all of the bad things he had ever done, but he was losing all of the good just as quickly. Smellerbee and Uncle worried that if the mindbenders had Jet for just a few more sessions, he would have no more personality than one of the Joo Dees that never stopped smiling. Zuko had been surprised to realize that he would fight to prevent that, even if it meant drawing the Dai Li's attention. Jet was almost a friend, now, even if that might change when the Earth Kingdom terrorist had all of his memories back.
Maybe Zuko was just as crazy as Jet, but he took a seat at the table and even accepted a lukewarm cup of tea. “It happened a few years ago. I don't like talking about it.” If he was going to talk to someone, he wouldn't tell somebody that would need to hear the story day after day. “I'd rather hear about the Freedom Fighters. I heard that you help people.”
Jet favored him with a very rare kind of smile, the kind of look that reminded Zuko of the cousin he had almost forgotten. Sometimes, asking about the Freedom Fighters earned reflexive demands to know where Zuko had heard about them. Once in a while, Jet reacted violently first and asked questions later. Usually, he wouldn't say anything about them if he'd already decided that Zuko wasn't worthy of his trust. Twice, though, Jet looked just like the confident man that Zuko had met on the ferry, one that thought he could bend the entire world to his will.
“Well,” Jet drawled, somehow producing one of those stupid stalks of grass with a flourish of his hand. “I don't usually take open applications, but... you look like you've got what it takes.”
Even a week ago, Zuko might have muttered under his breath, but he had almost started to miss the way that Jet just assumed that everyone would want to join his stupid group of terrorists. “I'm the Blue Spirit,” Zuko said, because he knew that Jet would stare for a heartbeat, shake his head, and come very close to laughing before letting the stupid stalk of grass fall to the table.
On cue, Jet's jaw dropped, but this time the stalk of grass fell unremembered to the floor. He recovered quickly, as he always did, but it always kept Jet a little friendlier and much less arrogant if somebody caught him off-guard. “Hey, just shows that I can pick talent when I see it,” he said, downing the rest of his tea in a gulp. “I could use a little professional help, as it turns out. This city looks great on the outside, maybe, but inside... there's something wrong with Lake Laogai.”
Zuko reached out instinctively, but there was nothing to do. They couldn't exactly warn Jet about the words, not when even seeing them written would cause the same reaction, but almost all of the slips came from him. They had learned quickly to avoid certain words, even if they did slip occasionally, but Jet would wipe his own slate clean a dozen times in a day.
Zuko waited for the dazed light to fade from Jet's eyes. It was time to start over again.
Alternate timeline from City of Walls and Secrets
Pairings : None
Warnings: None
Based on this image, created by ferrrox
Zuko's slow return to consciousness was far from pleasant. One of the back-alley troublemakers had landed a heavy punch to his cheek, leaving a throbbing bruise that matched the hit that had glanced off his jaw. The mask had protected him at first, but someone had worked out that his vision was weaker on his left side. They'd used that advantage to rip the flimsy ties of the new Blue Spirit mask. It was a small consolation that Jet had very similar injuries, at least from what Zuko could see in the dim light of the room. Both of them had their arms behind their back, with rope immobilizing them from elbow to waist, and neither had swords. He let his head fall back when he heard a noise, only to find a mulicorn's rear just a foot away. Its tail was brushing his neck.
“You're up,” Jet said. He sounded relieved, at least for the moment. There wouldn't be any thanks for saving him from the Dai Li-again-but Zuko wasn't doing this for Jet, exactly.
“Did they knock you out, too?” Zuko didn't rush into sitting up, still taking stock of any other injuries. His legs were fine this time, with only a couple minor bruises on the knees, and his shoulders hadn't had time to get stiff. His hands would hurt when he got the feeling back, but he would know if they were covered in blood. That left his head, but for once luck wasn't working against him. He would have an impressive black eye, to complement the scarred one, but Uncle wouldn't worry too much if there wasn't a concussion.
“I think so.” Jet frowned, coming dangerously close to that thoughtful twitch of expression when he almost understood.
Zuko distracted him. After so much practice, it was easy to guess at the right tack. “Good. What have they been saying?”
In answer, Jet came as near to bashful as he ever would. It wasn't particularly close. “You're really the Blue Spirit?”
The most obvious response ('I brought you out of a top-secret facility controlled by brainwashing nutcases while wearing the mask, didn't I') wasn't even an instinct anymore. “Yeah,” he said instead. “You heard about Pohuai.”
Jet nodded, without the usual enthusiasm or even the occasional surprising touch of hero-worship. “The bad part is that our captors did, too. They want to sell you to the Fird Lord for a bounty.”
This was the part of the night where things got hard. Jet's knives had been lost long ago, and every last pair of hookswords that any of them could find would vanish the instant Jet wandered away from direct supervision. Sometimes, Jet could ignore two different hands on his shoulders and hand the hookswords away, or sell them, or just walk away after leaving them on a bench. (One vendor in the area was especially clever. He'd always offer the dazed Earth Kingdom lad a generous price for the paired swords, knowing that ten minutes later a scar-faced boy would come buy them back. The vendor thought that Jet was a disturbed young man that couldn't bear owning weapons he wouldn't need that also couldn't let go of an inheritance from his father. Zuko never corrected him.)
“We need to get out of here, then.” Zuko pulled himself up, no easy task with his arms bound behind him and his legs already tired from the earlier running, and rested against a crate when more or less upright. The most colorful of the pea-pigeon, the patriarch of the little flock on top of that crate and on the cask Jet was using as a rest, chirped a stern warning at Zuko. Satisfied with that chastisement, the pea-pigeon turned his attention back to the little hens. “Animal smugglers have really good connections,” Zuko said, guessing what it would mean to see two rare species of animals in one side room. “They like to sell to people rich enough to keep their own private menageries.”
“Do you know why they want me?”
“You probably saw too much,” Zuko answered, knowing that it's always a safe guess. Jet had finally come far enough to realize that his short-term memory is worth nothing, and seemed to perpetually suspect himself of hitting his head hard enough to knock some memory loose.
Zuko couldn't decide if he should feel pity or envy for the trick of losing all of the terrible things that he'd done. One one of the rare nights that Smellerbee had actually felt like talking, she'd lingered over four consecutive cups of tea to talk about the time that they'd met the Avatar. Longshost hadn't contributed any words to the conversation, maybe, but his expression said volumes to anybody that had known Mai.
Jet nodded slowly, and within the span of seconds shifted from confusion to anger. "The bastards took my knife.”
Zuko wasn't much of a liar, and would never be much of a manipulator, but time and trial and error had proven that he can lead Jet the way he wanted. It was all too easy to look unhappy and uneasy, first, then to let it shift into thoughtfulness. He was still rather irritated that Uncle had felt the need to coach him through such an easy strategy, but Smellerbee hadn't laughed, and Longshot had shaken his head once in a while to make them shift the plan in some better direction.
“You have an idea?” Jet asked, all of that anger and rage fading into hope.
“You won't like it,” Zuko warned, again, wondering just how many times that Jet would have to learn. “Just remember that they want to turn me into the Fire Lord.” He tilted his head a touch, then, to bring attention to the color of his eyes. It wasn't hard. Jet's eyes had already narrowed, and he was looking for the faintest trace of Fire Nation. It was hard to miss, with Zuko, but the scar seemed to help people get the wrong impression.
It was cruel, since Zuko had first-hand experience of the fear that paralyzed Jet when fire whirled around then, but they didn't have the time for a yelling fight or a tearful confession or a half-wondering acceptance, whatever one Jet would have chosen for the day. Instead. Zuko swept out with his leg, controlling the fire in a burst of radiance and heat. The pea-pigeons shrieked instantly, the usual cooing lost in the cacophony of sounds the little birds could make when actually scared, which neatly covered up Jet's strangled exclamation.
When the fire died just heartbeats later, the birds settled into uneasy silence. The ropes were gone, and the only sound beyond Jet's heavy breathing was the mulicorn placidly munching hay behind them. Zuko stood, pointedly brushing away the few fragments of rope left on his clothes, and took control before Jet had time to move onto whatever emotional reaction it would be for the night.
“We need to get out of here.” Zuko's voice was harsh, but gentler tones never worked. “If you'll swear to leave my uncle out of any fight you want to pick, I'll bring you to your friends.”
Usually, the angry tone would work until they were both clear of whatever enemies Jet had found, but sometimes Jet was just as impossible as the Avatar had always been. “Where are you keeping them?” Jet hissed, slowly rising to his feet with all the grace of tiger-swan. He was the most annoying to deal with on those nights, when fighting competence seemed to be the strongest tile he had to play, but escaping was always the easiest.
“They paid me to find you,” Zuko said coolly, because both Smellerbee and Longshot agreed that this was the idea least likely to catch the attention of Jet's paranoid mind. “They are staying with my uncle for their safety. I didn't mean to find you by getting caught by the same group of smugglers, but it certainly worked. I'll tell them where you go in any case, but I won't let you near my uncle if you won't leave him alone.”
Sometimes, Jet made dark threats against the old firebenders that had been the worst in what little of the army Jet had seen. Sometimes he demanded what anyone worth saving would do with a person like Zuko. On rare occasions, he would agree to leave Uncle alone. Tonight, Jet nodded thoughtfully, with that glint in his eye that meant he'd found some loophole.
The phrasing had never resulted in trouble for Uncle, even if it made it all the more likely that Zuko would be fighting paired hookswords the next day, again drawing the attention of the Dai Li. It was the best that Zuko would get, when Jet was in the mood to fight anyone in his path and to hate firebenders with an intensity that frightened his friends. Zuko never asked for more, on these nights. He opened the door slowly, knowing that Jet would burst into the hallway with no sense of stealth, and quickly take a step to the left to scan for opponents. Zuko had the guard coming from the right on the ground and unconscious before Jet could turn.
Jet, of course, said nothing, but looked mildly less angry when he saw something gleam just across the hall. He emerged with two hookswords, paired weapons of a quality Zuko hadn't seen for weeks. Zuko walked past him carefully, but Jet didn't yell to their enemies or sink the sharp blade of a hook into his back. (Zuko still had the scar from that night a week ago. The sword had been just an inch away from Zuko's spine, and had left a deep puncture that had bled sluggishly for two hours. Smellerbee had tried her best to patch it, but in the end Uncle had cauterized it for lack of any better medicine.)
Zuko found both of his swords. The mask would be lost, if the ranking thieves were still arguing about how to collect money on the Blue Spirit, but the once-rare opera mask was rapidly increasing in popularity. So far, the Dai Li had no idea just how their most aggravating prisoner kept escaping, but Zuko knew that his luck wouldn't last much longer.
Jet's memory was an odd thing, after so many times with that madman twisting his mind against itself over and over. It was like the paper-games that Lu Ten had shown him, once. If you pasted a strip of paper into a loop, then you had a circle. If you twisted it, though, just one half-twist, you could take a brush and paint a line down both sides of the odd little creation. Zuko had played with that bit of paper for almost an hour, pestering Lu Ten and then Uncle with questions about how it worked. Azula had looked at it for perhaps five seconds before setting the bit of parchment on fire.
It had only been going on for three weeks, maybe, but it felt like longer when this repeated itself almost every single night. He and Jet had left the smuggler's den without further incident, and they took to the rooftops. (They always did when Jet was feeling confident. One night, when even arrogance had failed Jet, Zuko had taken half of the next day to get Jet back to his friends. They always held the vigil at Zuko and Uncle's cramped apartment. Uncle wouldn't even considered moving to the Upper Ring and his own shop until Jet was taken care of, one way or another. Pao was delighted, and had adjusted Uncle's wages appropriately.)
Jet didn't say much on the way back, and didn't realize that Zuko didn't need to spend that much time in the lead. Sure enough, though, Jet stopped at the rooftop with the best view down at the apartment, and nearly swayed with the force of mostly-forgotten memories.
Sometimes, Jet wanted to talk. Zuko hated those nights the most.
The full moon caught Jet's attention, leaving no room to break the silence with words. It was for the best, as Zuko never seemed to say the right things. Uncle would, and Smellerbee certainly tried, and even Longshot had unwound enough to speak twice in Zuko's hearing, but somehow Zuko was always the one listening as Jet's mind circled around and around the truth.
Zuko started down the ladder. The Dai Li would still be near Lake Laogai at the time of night, and never seemed to expect that Jet would vanish in the middle of the night. They tended to sound their alarms an hour after dawn on their fastest days.
Jet followed a minute later, and looked much happier about the idea when Smellerbee leaned out of the apartment window to wave at them. Jet didn't relax until they were through the door, of course, but things always were easier when Smellerbee could launch herself at Jet for a hug and Longshot could nod from his usual place at the table. Zuko left them alone for those first few minutes. Once, Jet had been nothing but complimentary about his rescuer, but usually it took a full cup of tea to begrudgingly accept a firebender.
Zuko cleaned his swords carefully. He had only lost his weapons once, but it was much harder to replace the twin dao blades. People were starting to look around for the Blue Spirit, very slowly, and the last thing they needed was attention. He'd have to find a mask, again, but Smellerbee had started taking care of that for him. When he gave up on straightening his part of the room, he walked into the usual conversation. Jet wasn't convinced, maybe, but he wasn't ready to go running for the Dai Li.
He could have taken Uncle aside, but then Jet would be suspicious and Smellerbee would have to talk him down all over again.
Zuko straightened the flyer as best he could, smoothing it against the hard wood of the table, but it had been soaked after his unexpected dip in Lake Laogai. The later run through the compound's halls and the streets hadn't helped, especially since the Dai Li had taken to casually mentioning the Earth King and an invitation to Lake Laogai all throughout their patrol. It had taken Zuko all of the first week to realize that those words always came right before one of Jet's extremely homicidal turns of mind, but the entire city was starting to take up the words. Jet hadn't gone longer than two days without losing everything, and never remembered meeting Lee on the ferry. He didn't even remember the ferry, lately, and the details about Jet's encounter with the Avatar were starting to waver.
The flyer alone hadn't drawn enough attention. “The Avatar is here.”
Uncle looked worried and Jet looked puzzled, but both of Jet's freedom fighters looked warily hopeful.
Zuko had wanted someone else to say it. “Uncle, you said that a waterbender would be able to help him, if anybody could.”
Jet shook his head, more embarrassed than Zuko had ever seen him. “Katara? She might help me if I was on fire, but... hey, what about it, Blue?”
Longshot raised a brow.
Jet scowled at his friend, but even that expression had all the touches of Jet's usual ease in planning and teasing. “Fine, so we can come up with something a little more workable, but I bet my swords that she's still holding a grudge. She still might do it, though, in case I've figured out anything useful.”
“The Avatar's bison is by the lake, I think,” Zuko offered. There was no use being specific, when 'Lake Laogai' would mean dodging swords, and none of them talked about any other lake. “They were moving something in while I was on my way out tonight. I didn't have time to look, but they had chains ready for something way bigger than a Komodo rhino.”
“Hm,” Uncle said, tapping the side of his teacup quietly. He had an idea, and he didn't think it was very dangerous. “There was something about a Bei Fong visiting the Upper Ring, and there have been several whispers about a missing blind daughter approximately the age of a remarkable young woman I met just before we encountered Lee's sister. I believe that I will be able to invite her to join me in a second cup of tea.”
Zuko had ran for the bedroom just after the word 'invite.' It wasn't cowardice. It was long experience. Jet's swords were resting at his side, and the last thing Zuko needed was a third fight tearing through their quarters when they had finally replaced all of the furniture. Jet had been between Smellerbee and Longshot, this time, and Uncle had nothing more dangerous than a cup of tea in his hand. Smellerbee rapidly explained the situation, calming Jet down faster than ever. (All of them had learned through previous mistakes which words to avoid, even if 'invite' alone had never caused an episode. Five days before, 'Earth King' had been all that it took. 'Lake' might be next.)
Zuko waited for the all-clear knock on the table. Jet was always disoriented when coming back from one of his attacks, and barely noticed someone appearing from the back of the apartment.
“I will visit the Avatar tomorrow,” Uncle said firmly, when all of them (even Zuko) had finished another cup of tea. “Smellerbee, if you will be able to handle the shop on your own...” He smiled when she nodded firmly. “Very good. Longshot, you and Jet will stay here to recover from- ah- the unfortunate blow to the young man's head. Lee, you will take a message to the Upper Ring.”
“Uncle?”
“You can leave it at Lady Bei Fong's door, or pay someone to deliver it directly, but you have the most practice of slipping over the wall. If you are not overtired, it may be easiest for you to act tonight.”
Smellerbee and Longshot didn't ask. They had decided a week and a half ago that they'd rather not know the particulars of Mushi and Lee's pasts, and Zuko and his uncle had returned the favor. Jet was still too dazed to ask questions, and might be dazed enough to buy them a full hour without an interrogation.
It was getting worse, and every time it took longer for Jet to start asking questions about what had happened.
Zuko had time to find his swords again, and to find the black outfit that he preferred. The night before, Jet's swords had come much too close for comfort, leaving the sleeves half in shreds. He had been forced to go out in Fire Nation colors, not the dark colors he preferred now, but Uncle had mended his things while sitting the nightly vigil with Longshot and Smellerbee. Their lives would be easier if they could lock Jet in a closet and keep him there, but that would make them hardly better than the Dai Li. So they let Jet have his freedom, even if it meant finding him again nearly every night.
He smiled to find a spare mask tucked under his pillow. He had only needed two replacements so far, but Smellerbee must have found one at the market earlier that day. Zuko wrote up the invitation himself while Smellerbee and Uncle pulled Jet into the conversation, remembering the calligraphy that he hadn't used in what felt like forever, being sure to phrase it appropriately as would befit a distinguished general inviting an unchaperoned young woman to tea.
Uncle read over the invitation as if it were a court dissertation, giving his full approval, and everyone looked relieved with the idea of leaving the Blue Spirit to ask a favor from the Avatar. Zuko was hoping to find the waterbender awake, drawn by the full moon, and spent the entire trip from the Lower Ring to the fanciest district of Ba Sing Se planning how to get through the exchange without finding a way to offend her. Uncle was sure that she would be able to help Jet, and Zuko knew that nothing else would do any good, so it had to be her.
He didn't find the waterbender, of course, but it was very easy to find the house. The Avatar was sitting on the roof. Zuko hesitated, and nearly dropped the invitation just inside the front door, but he wanted this task done. He wanted the idiot Earth Kingdom terrorist to be healed so that he could be someone else's responsibility, even if it meant facing his own past.
The Avatar saw him, of course, but was too surprised, shocked, or polite to start a fight. Zuko reached the roof without any difficulty, except realizing all over again that the Avatar was a child. Zuko wouldn't subject Jet to the Fire Nation's idea of justice, even after all the time saving him from himself. Especially after that. Zuko was uncomfortably sure that the same applied to the Avatar.
Zuko should have known that it was too easy, getting away from the conversation with Jet. Things always evened out. “Avatar.”
The boy's eyes widened dramatically, as if he hadn't known already. “Zuko!”
Zuko stayed back, not giving any reason for the Avatar to start a fight. “I think you know someone called Jet.”
That hadn't been what the boy suspected. The named earned a scowl-probably what they would think of him, Zuko thought. “Yeah. I know him,” the boy said curtly.
“He's... hurt,” Zuko said inadequately, thinking of the last three weeks and all of the ways that a person could lose themselves. “In his mind. Uncle thinks that Katara would be able to help him. If he was healed,” he continued, feeling inspired, “he'd be able to tell you a lot more about the flying furball.” Zuko probably knew more than Jet did, but he'd be sure to pass on the information as soon as Jet was healed.
If the boy's eyes got any wider, they would probably fall out. “Appa?” he whispered.
“I think the Dai Li have your bison. I wasn't in the right area for long, but they had...” Somehow, he didn't want to mention the chains, but now the boy was expecting the worst. “There were chains in place for something very, very big. I could show you the right area, but you really shouldn't go there alone. The Dai Li don't want to admit that there's a war at all. They wouldn't take kindly to...”
The boy was actually laughing, confusing Zuko so much that his words trailed into nothing. “Sorry, it's just... we met Long Feng, and he isn't a fan. But you really found Appa?”
“Not yet. I just think I know where they're keeping him. Jet was imprisoned for disturbing the peace.” Zuko held out the invitation, which had been tied around the hilt of a sword. “Uncle wants to talk to Lady Bei Fong again, to ask her to persuade the waterbender into helping. If she can heal, like she said, then she's the only one that can heal Jet. Even if he doesn't know about the bison, he would be able to tell you more about the Dai Li.”
“Okay,” Aang said, only looking at the invitation long enough to read Toph's name. “Um. How did you find me?”
Zuko held out the very wrinkled flyer that had survived a dip in Lake Laogai, a large amount of firebending, and traveling halfway around Ba Sing Se. The address was neatly written at the bottom.
“Oh.” Aang blushed, the pink reaching nearly all of his still-bald head. “Um, thanks.”
Neither of them knew what to say, it seemed, and Zuko's bruised eye was throbbing under the mask. “Uncle says that he and Toph have spoken before.”
“Toph said she met somebody before Azula-um. Yeah. I'll tell her.” Aang had managed to blush before the previous effects had gone, leaving him pink enough that the blue of his tattoos looked strange.
“Firebending is... my uncle wants to help you,” Zuko said stiffly. His uncle had been at risk for weeks, now, just as much as Zuko. It didn't matter that only one of them was breaking into Lake Laogai on multiple occasions and causing havoc nearly every night. Uncle was the Dragon of the West, and he was inside the city he had nearly destroyed. “If you will swear to me that he won't be hurt...” Zuko trailed off, realizing that the usual threats just wouldn't come anymore, but Aang was nodding quickly.
“I swear in the name of my mentor, Gyatso,” Aang agreed without reservation. “We won't hurt him, and we definitely wouldn't let the Dai Li have him. Katara is probably going to be really mad to see Jet, but I think she'll still help him.”
Zuko nodded, and that was enough. Aang turned as the waterbender made her way onto the roof, and Zuko disappeared in the tradition of the mask. He could hear their voices for a time, and that was enough. Aang sounded calm, and the waterbender would sound much angrier if she realized just what the Avatar had promised.
Getting back to Pao's teashop was easy, just as it always was. Earthbenders were formidable fighters on their element, perhaps, but hardly any of them ever thought to look up. His night should have been over there, and for once he'd be able to sleep a little past dawn without throwing on the apron and opening the shop a half hour after sunrise.
He let himself in through the half-open window, as usual, to find everyone in their usual positions. Smellerbee was curled on the soft chair near the stove, Uncle was snoring quietly in the bedroom, and Longshot was standing guard at the door. Zuko didn't know why they kept paying for their little apartment, except maybe to have a place that was their own. Somewhere that they could go when Jet was finally better. Longshot waited until Zuko had the mask off before nodding and taking his usual place, the thin mattress by the door.
Jet was sitting at the table, sipping tea contentedly. He looked unsurprised when Zuko came through the window, but something in his expression caught when the mask came off. “Hey, that's a pretty nasty scar. Do anything to the firebender that gave it to you?”
It had been a very long three weeks of watching this happen again and again. Zuko wondered what word it had been this time, that Jet had forgotten three times in one night, and hoped it was “earth.” It would be a lot harder to avoid saying “the” for however long it took Aang to coax the waterbender into fixing the temperamental Freedom Fighter. Jet could be an enemy to all of them with his mind intact, maybe, but Zuko was beginning to think that he wouldn't wish the Dai Li's mindbending on anyone. He couldn't imagine this happening to his sister, or to any of the Avatar's friends. Jet was slowly forgetting all of the bad things he had ever done, but he was losing all of the good just as quickly. Smellerbee and Uncle worried that if the mindbenders had Jet for just a few more sessions, he would have no more personality than one of the Joo Dees that never stopped smiling. Zuko had been surprised to realize that he would fight to prevent that, even if it meant drawing the Dai Li's attention. Jet was almost a friend, now, even if that might change when the Earth Kingdom terrorist had all of his memories back.
Maybe Zuko was just as crazy as Jet, but he took a seat at the table and even accepted a lukewarm cup of tea. “It happened a few years ago. I don't like talking about it.” If he was going to talk to someone, he wouldn't tell somebody that would need to hear the story day after day. “I'd rather hear about the Freedom Fighters. I heard that you help people.”
Jet favored him with a very rare kind of smile, the kind of look that reminded Zuko of the cousin he had almost forgotten. Sometimes, asking about the Freedom Fighters earned reflexive demands to know where Zuko had heard about them. Once in a while, Jet reacted violently first and asked questions later. Usually, he wouldn't say anything about them if he'd already decided that Zuko wasn't worthy of his trust. Twice, though, Jet looked just like the confident man that Zuko had met on the ferry, one that thought he could bend the entire world to his will.
“Well,” Jet drawled, somehow producing one of those stupid stalks of grass with a flourish of his hand. “I don't usually take open applications, but... you look like you've got what it takes.”
Even a week ago, Zuko might have muttered under his breath, but he had almost started to miss the way that Jet just assumed that everyone would want to join his stupid group of terrorists. “I'm the Blue Spirit,” Zuko said, because he knew that Jet would stare for a heartbeat, shake his head, and come very close to laughing before letting the stupid stalk of grass fall to the table.
On cue, Jet's jaw dropped, but this time the stalk of grass fell unremembered to the floor. He recovered quickly, as he always did, but it always kept Jet a little friendlier and much less arrogant if somebody caught him off-guard. “Hey, just shows that I can pick talent when I see it,” he said, downing the rest of his tea in a gulp. “I could use a little professional help, as it turns out. This city looks great on the outside, maybe, but inside... there's something wrong with Lake Laogai.”
Zuko reached out instinctively, but there was nothing to do. They couldn't exactly warn Jet about the words, not when even seeing them written would cause the same reaction, but almost all of the slips came from him. They had learned quickly to avoid certain words, even if they did slip occasionally, but Jet would wipe his own slate clean a dozen times in a day.
Zuko waited for the dazed light to fade from Jet's eyes. It was time to start over again.