Avatar - Beloved
Smellerbee, Longshot and Jet, a threefold cord is not quickly broken.
Yeah, spoilers for Lake Laogai.
"We'll take care of him. He's our leader."
I don't regret the choices that I've made
Smellerbee and Longshot waited until they were certain the others were gone and would have attracted the remaining soldiers' attention before moving. It was selfish, especially after Aang had found Jet for them again, but their group had the Avatar and benders and no one critically injured in it, so they'd make it out.
Longshot stripped off his bandages once the echoes faded, with quick, rapid movements so that he could get his bow back in his hands as soon as possible. Smellerbee took over guarding the door while he did, but returned as soon as he was done--her weapons were close-range, and they needed to keep the soldiers as far as possible.
The multiple little cuts and scars on Longshot's hands and arms were almost invisible in the underground light as he picked his bow back up and notched an arrow again, facing the door. Smellerbee wiped her eyes and nose with her sleeve one last time and reached for the bandages.
There wasn't enough--there wouldn't be enough even if she pulled off her own and ripped up her sleeves--but that didn't matter, anyway. Jet had been controlling his breathing really well, well enough to even fool them about how bad it was; when Smellerbee started to lift his shoulders so that she could get his shirt out of the way and wrap the bandages around the worst of the broken bones, Jet smothered a noise that could only be called a scream.
Jet didn't scream. Jet yelled, Jet shouted, Jet could speak with a voice that boomed and echoed from the tree branches, but he didn't scream.
Longshot's fingers slipped faintly on the arrow at the sound. She saw it from the corner of her eye as she gently set Jet back on the ground. He was breathing harshly through his teeth now, eyes squeezed shut even tighter than they'd been before.
His shoulder bone's broken, she realized, and then, This is impossible.
There was no way to bandage something this bad, not when they could be attacked at any moment. They had to get Jet out while the soldiers were distracted with Aang and the others, had to get back to the room, but. . . .
If they moved him like this, carried him all the way back there. . . .
Longshot shifted his grip on the bow, out of the position that would allow him to stand still with the least weariness and into one that would allow him to walk while still being able to shoot at a moment's necessity. Smellerbee hesitated for a second, then remembered that they couldn't afford that and nodded.
(When you hesitate it spreads to others like a disease, Jet had told them once, with that grin and those eyes, and she had remembered it when she said she would join him and Longshot on the journey to Ba Sing Se.)
". . . Here," she mumbled, and then cleared her throat before ripping a handful of bandages free from the small pile and pressing them against Jet's mouth. "Bite down."
Jet bit through the cloth as she lugged him up and onto his feet, still making those smothered screaming, choking noises in the back of his throat. He didn't open his eyes.
Longshot took a step back, into reach, but Smellerbee shook her head. "When we get out," she told him. "Keep them back."
He nodded and stepped forward again, moving towards the door. She adjusted Jet one last time, letting him slump over her as much as possible, and wished that she hadn't felt something shifting underneath his shirt, under his skin, at the moment. Jet made another choking noise, but he was the first one to take a step forward, even if it was a small and shuffling one.
That was all she needed.
Longshot had better eyes than her--when he stopped abruptly in the corridor and drew the arrow back further, Smellerbee wrenched her dagger out of her belt, even though the sharp motion caused her to jostle Jet. He made a high, pained noise that the bandages didn't muffle.
Longshot hadn't fired, which was the first sign that something was off; and at the groan from Jet, she saw the shadows to the right of them shift. Maybe the waterbender had come back?
That idea was rejected when she realized that the shadows were moving back, not forward. Whoever was there, all they were going to do was let them pass by.
Not soldiers, then, or a member of the Avatar's group, and Longshot's eyes remained narrowed and the arrow ready to fire. She tightened her grip on the hilt of her knife.
Longshot took a step forward, arrow still trained on the shadows. They didn't move.
They crossed that one portion of the corridor slower than anywhere else. Longshot remained focused on the hallway; when he began tilting his body so that he could keep the arrow trained on it, Smellerbee crossed behind him, keeping watch on the path in front.
Jet mumbled something, when they were halfway across the intersection, but she couldn't make it out between the bandages and his harsh panting.
When they were a good distance away from the hallway, over three arches past, Longshot stopped walking backwards behind them and came back. She waited another moment before tucking the dagger back into its sheath, much more carefully this time. The motion still made Jet grunt.
Behind them, Smellerbee could hear whoever had been in the shadows--two people, from the echoes--heading in the opposite direction. She couldn't turn to look at them without hurting Jet more, so she glanced at Longshot instead.
His eyes were still narrowed, more than could be accounted for by him keeping watch on the path in front of them, and something was wrong. Something was wrong and normally she would be able to know what he was saying, but right now they needed to get Jet out of here and--
They needed to get Jet out of here. She could ask him what was wrong once they got back to the room.
He climbed up the handholds first--he would be able to shoot over them at anyone coming from below, and she wouldn't be able to fight if they were attacked before they could even get outside, not without dropping Jet.
Her shoulders and back were already hurting from the walk down the corridor, but before they were even a third of the way up her arms burned from the climb and the weight.
Smellerbee gritted her teeth and stayed silent. Jet's good arm was wrapped awkwardly over her left shoulder--he'd made sure to give her access to her sword even with all the pain he had to be in. He was digging his feet into the holds below her as much as he could to take some of the weight off, and his chest was pressed against her back so that she could feel the way the bones kept shifting slightly.
His right arm, the one with the broken collarbone, was dangling. His hand banged into the dagger's sheath occasionally as she climbed. She could hear his breathing getting more stilted the higher they went.
When they finally reached the opening, Longshot stopped and leaned up just enough to scan the area outside. When she paused as well, Jet braced his feet into the holds two below her own. He was too tense, trying too hard; when she glanced down she saw the way the tendons in his hand stood out against the skin.
Longshot made a small gesture to her before shoving himself up and out of the opening. Stay there, he'd said, until I signal; there may have been some I didn't see. I'll hold them off while you and Jet get away.
Her arms ached, and her neck was wet where the saliva the bandages had soaked up had started dripping, and if her grip slipped now Jet really would die.
He couldn't die. She just had to hold on long enough for them to get back to the room. She could do that, the room wasn't that far and she was a freedom fighter she could get them back to one damn room. . . .
. . . Back to the room that she and Longshot had rented with the last of the honest money they'd had, because they'd abandoned the first place they'd gotten in case anyone had traced Jet back to there. It wasn't much farther--the same quarter, same style, a slightly crumbling block of one room apartments--than where they had been, because they hadn't wanted to be too far away when Jet came back.
Because they'd expected him to come back. He was Jet--even if he'd been acting weird, even if he'd been taken by the Dai Li, he was Jet and he would always come back.
(After the first week, when they were almost out of food but hadn't found work yet, she'd asked Longshot if he thought Jet had seen them escape the crowd--had seen them leave him behind.
We didn't escape, he'd replied, we did what he'd trained us to do. We can't be any help if we're in jail too.
That was what Smellerbee had been telling herself since that night, but it was only when Longshot said it too that it finally didn't sound like justifying.)
She started when Longshot leaned through the opening and reached down, and then tensed reflexively when she realized how the motion could have thrown Jet off. Longshot ignored it and hooked his hands underneath her armpits, beginning to pull them both up. Smellerbee scrambled up the last several handholds; at the top, Longshot pulled Jet through. She climbed out afterward.
He'd set Jet against the stone dome of the exit. The bandages had fallen out at some point, and his eyes were closed again--if they'd ever opened--and his breathing had a liquidy sound to it that creeped her out, and his chest was heaving shallowly in a way that she'd never seen since that time Pipsqueak taste-tested a plant none of them had seen before and which had made him vomit for a day afterward. Longshot was gripping Jet's hand and wrist tightly, watching his face.
Smellerbee glanced around reflexively. There was rubble to the left, heaps of it, and the remnants of rock walls--and the bodies of soldiers scattered around. The others had gotten away. Far to the left, she could barely make out the shapes of two people disappearing down one of the paths.
They had to go right, then. It'd be a different way than they came, but they could get back. One of them would have to take Jet straight to the room, while the other bought bandages and something for the pain.
But all their money was budgeted for food. They'd have to steal it, then; some new life this was turning out to be.
It didn't matter as long as he lived.
Jet made that watery choking noise again, and she turned around to see Longshot helping him stand. He glanced at her, and then to the right--he had the same plan.
Smellerbee pulled her sword and her dagger out of their sheaths. She waited until she heard the footsteps behind her--Longshot's quiet, Jet's scraping against the rock--before starting forward.
It didn't matter as long as they all lived.
I am still proud of what we were.
VNV Nation - Beloved
Yeah, spoilers for Lake Laogai.
"We'll take care of him. He's our leader."
I don't regret the choices that I've made
Smellerbee and Longshot waited until they were certain the others were gone and would have attracted the remaining soldiers' attention before moving. It was selfish, especially after Aang had found Jet for them again, but their group had the Avatar and benders and no one critically injured in it, so they'd make it out.
Longshot stripped off his bandages once the echoes faded, with quick, rapid movements so that he could get his bow back in his hands as soon as possible. Smellerbee took over guarding the door while he did, but returned as soon as he was done--her weapons were close-range, and they needed to keep the soldiers as far as possible.
The multiple little cuts and scars on Longshot's hands and arms were almost invisible in the underground light as he picked his bow back up and notched an arrow again, facing the door. Smellerbee wiped her eyes and nose with her sleeve one last time and reached for the bandages.
There wasn't enough--there wouldn't be enough even if she pulled off her own and ripped up her sleeves--but that didn't matter, anyway. Jet had been controlling his breathing really well, well enough to even fool them about how bad it was; when Smellerbee started to lift his shoulders so that she could get his shirt out of the way and wrap the bandages around the worst of the broken bones, Jet smothered a noise that could only be called a scream.
Jet didn't scream. Jet yelled, Jet shouted, Jet could speak with a voice that boomed and echoed from the tree branches, but he didn't scream.
Longshot's fingers slipped faintly on the arrow at the sound. She saw it from the corner of her eye as she gently set Jet back on the ground. He was breathing harshly through his teeth now, eyes squeezed shut even tighter than they'd been before.
His shoulder bone's broken, she realized, and then, This is impossible.
There was no way to bandage something this bad, not when they could be attacked at any moment. They had to get Jet out while the soldiers were distracted with Aang and the others, had to get back to the room, but. . . .
If they moved him like this, carried him all the way back there. . . .
Longshot shifted his grip on the bow, out of the position that would allow him to stand still with the least weariness and into one that would allow him to walk while still being able to shoot at a moment's necessity. Smellerbee hesitated for a second, then remembered that they couldn't afford that and nodded.
(When you hesitate it spreads to others like a disease, Jet had told them once, with that grin and those eyes, and she had remembered it when she said she would join him and Longshot on the journey to Ba Sing Se.)
". . . Here," she mumbled, and then cleared her throat before ripping a handful of bandages free from the small pile and pressing them against Jet's mouth. "Bite down."
Jet bit through the cloth as she lugged him up and onto his feet, still making those smothered screaming, choking noises in the back of his throat. He didn't open his eyes.
Longshot took a step back, into reach, but Smellerbee shook her head. "When we get out," she told him. "Keep them back."
He nodded and stepped forward again, moving towards the door. She adjusted Jet one last time, letting him slump over her as much as possible, and wished that she hadn't felt something shifting underneath his shirt, under his skin, at the moment. Jet made another choking noise, but he was the first one to take a step forward, even if it was a small and shuffling one.
That was all she needed.
Longshot had better eyes than her--when he stopped abruptly in the corridor and drew the arrow back further, Smellerbee wrenched her dagger out of her belt, even though the sharp motion caused her to jostle Jet. He made a high, pained noise that the bandages didn't muffle.
Longshot hadn't fired, which was the first sign that something was off; and at the groan from Jet, she saw the shadows to the right of them shift. Maybe the waterbender had come back?
That idea was rejected when she realized that the shadows were moving back, not forward. Whoever was there, all they were going to do was let them pass by.
Not soldiers, then, or a member of the Avatar's group, and Longshot's eyes remained narrowed and the arrow ready to fire. She tightened her grip on the hilt of her knife.
Longshot took a step forward, arrow still trained on the shadows. They didn't move.
They crossed that one portion of the corridor slower than anywhere else. Longshot remained focused on the hallway; when he began tilting his body so that he could keep the arrow trained on it, Smellerbee crossed behind him, keeping watch on the path in front.
Jet mumbled something, when they were halfway across the intersection, but she couldn't make it out between the bandages and his harsh panting.
When they were a good distance away from the hallway, over three arches past, Longshot stopped walking backwards behind them and came back. She waited another moment before tucking the dagger back into its sheath, much more carefully this time. The motion still made Jet grunt.
Behind them, Smellerbee could hear whoever had been in the shadows--two people, from the echoes--heading in the opposite direction. She couldn't turn to look at them without hurting Jet more, so she glanced at Longshot instead.
His eyes were still narrowed, more than could be accounted for by him keeping watch on the path in front of them, and something was wrong. Something was wrong and normally she would be able to know what he was saying, but right now they needed to get Jet out of here and--
They needed to get Jet out of here. She could ask him what was wrong once they got back to the room.
He climbed up the handholds first--he would be able to shoot over them at anyone coming from below, and she wouldn't be able to fight if they were attacked before they could even get outside, not without dropping Jet.
Her shoulders and back were already hurting from the walk down the corridor, but before they were even a third of the way up her arms burned from the climb and the weight.
Smellerbee gritted her teeth and stayed silent. Jet's good arm was wrapped awkwardly over her left shoulder--he'd made sure to give her access to her sword even with all the pain he had to be in. He was digging his feet into the holds below her as much as he could to take some of the weight off, and his chest was pressed against her back so that she could feel the way the bones kept shifting slightly.
His right arm, the one with the broken collarbone, was dangling. His hand banged into the dagger's sheath occasionally as she climbed. She could hear his breathing getting more stilted the higher they went.
When they finally reached the opening, Longshot stopped and leaned up just enough to scan the area outside. When she paused as well, Jet braced his feet into the holds two below her own. He was too tense, trying too hard; when she glanced down she saw the way the tendons in his hand stood out against the skin.
Longshot made a small gesture to her before shoving himself up and out of the opening. Stay there, he'd said, until I signal; there may have been some I didn't see. I'll hold them off while you and Jet get away.
Her arms ached, and her neck was wet where the saliva the bandages had soaked up had started dripping, and if her grip slipped now Jet really would die.
He couldn't die. She just had to hold on long enough for them to get back to the room. She could do that, the room wasn't that far and she was a freedom fighter she could get them back to one damn room. . . .
. . . Back to the room that she and Longshot had rented with the last of the honest money they'd had, because they'd abandoned the first place they'd gotten in case anyone had traced Jet back to there. It wasn't much farther--the same quarter, same style, a slightly crumbling block of one room apartments--than where they had been, because they hadn't wanted to be too far away when Jet came back.
Because they'd expected him to come back. He was Jet--even if he'd been acting weird, even if he'd been taken by the Dai Li, he was Jet and he would always come back.
(After the first week, when they were almost out of food but hadn't found work yet, she'd asked Longshot if he thought Jet had seen them escape the crowd--had seen them leave him behind.
We didn't escape, he'd replied, we did what he'd trained us to do. We can't be any help if we're in jail too.
That was what Smellerbee had been telling herself since that night, but it was only when Longshot said it too that it finally didn't sound like justifying.)
She started when Longshot leaned through the opening and reached down, and then tensed reflexively when she realized how the motion could have thrown Jet off. Longshot ignored it and hooked his hands underneath her armpits, beginning to pull them both up. Smellerbee scrambled up the last several handholds; at the top, Longshot pulled Jet through. She climbed out afterward.
He'd set Jet against the stone dome of the exit. The bandages had fallen out at some point, and his eyes were closed again--if they'd ever opened--and his breathing had a liquidy sound to it that creeped her out, and his chest was heaving shallowly in a way that she'd never seen since that time Pipsqueak taste-tested a plant none of them had seen before and which had made him vomit for a day afterward. Longshot was gripping Jet's hand and wrist tightly, watching his face.
Smellerbee glanced around reflexively. There was rubble to the left, heaps of it, and the remnants of rock walls--and the bodies of soldiers scattered around. The others had gotten away. Far to the left, she could barely make out the shapes of two people disappearing down one of the paths.
They had to go right, then. It'd be a different way than they came, but they could get back. One of them would have to take Jet straight to the room, while the other bought bandages and something for the pain.
But all their money was budgeted for food. They'd have to steal it, then; some new life this was turning out to be.
It didn't matter as long as he lived.
Jet made that watery choking noise again, and she turned around to see Longshot helping him stand. He glanced at her, and then to the right--he had the same plan.
Smellerbee pulled her sword and her dagger out of their sheaths. She waited until she heard the footsteps behind her--Longshot's quiet, Jet's scraping against the rock--before starting forward.
It didn't matter as long as they all lived.
I am still proud of what we were.
VNV Nation - Beloved