39. The Survivor's Tale
Aang Kazekama, as an FBI agent, had come across a lot of misery and fear in his life. He had interviewed everyone from suicide survivors to rape victims to children who had been molested. The stories he could tell would make anyone who had not grown accustomed to this sort of thing curl up in a corner in the fetal position and sob. If the walls of his office could talk, they would bleed black.
His job was not a happy one, and he had never expected it to be. Aang was the kind of person who just wanted to HELP others, no matter the reason why or how. He could take in all their pain and not give any back, hold it for them and support them as they started to walk again. More than one of the people he had interviewed had stayed in contact with him, including a kidnap victim named Toph, and a girl who had watched her mother get killed by the name of Katara.
Aang had been sure that, at this point in his life, he had seen pretty much everything. He was twenty three, and after three years as an FBI agent, there wasn't much he HADN'T seen, to be more accurate.
However, the moment he had been assigned to the Hihoshi case, he had known something was going to be different. The case had seemed straightforward enough. A man, wife missing for the past eleven years, and an eighteen year old daughter. The man was at the center of a series of disappearances at the local high school, all girls his daughter went to school with.
But the case had dragged out over months, and as they dug deeper and deeper into Ozai Hihoshi's past, they found themselves coming up with a disturbing pattern. Each town he had lived in, from the time he was twenty five to now, there was always at least one unexplained disappearance. By the six month mark of the investigation, they could chock his victims to the seventy line mark, and rapidly rising as the years passed by. The darker the case became, the more involved Aang got, until he was second only to the lead investigator, Katara's older brother, Sokka.
By the year mark however, they had come to such a disturbing conclusion that Aang felt sick every time he thought about it. The increase in kills, the variation in MO, there was only one explanation. Ozai's daughter was killing too.
The increase in kills started the year his daughter, Azula, turned thirteen.
Once all the pieces fit together, they had moved in to catch the pair, and just as they were about to pounce, a small, single line in an old article caught Aang's attention. He had shown it to Sokka and Jet, and they had both had the same shocked reaction as he had. If there was anything it taught them, it was to never assume ever again. The article was about the disappearance of Ozai's wife, a beautiful woman named Ursa. and where they had expected the words "...is survived by her husband and daughter", they instead found; "Ursa Hihoshi is survived by her husband, Ozai, and her two children, Azula and Zuko."
Ozai had a son.
It was this fact that changed the whole case, for better or for worse, they weren't entirely sure. The profiler of the case, Teo, had said that according to Ozai's personality, he would have someone who he considered a "slave" on the daily. He would beat them, treat them like trash, mostly, test new torture techniques on them... At first they had thought this was Azula, but they had been wrong. This person, Teo had said, would have no power in Ozai's mind. He would never let them kill alongside him.
They had assumed that there was just a missing piece, one of the never-found bodies was actually in his clutches, as his "slave". But no. No, Ozai had a son, a son there was no record of even existing, and that fit the final piece in the puzzle.
The arrest and capture of Ozai and Azula Hihoshi had gone without a hitch, and they had even saved the girl they had kidnapped before anything more than slight mental trauma could occur. Zuko Hihoshi...was another story entirely.
The boy's room had been unlike every other room in the house. It had been dark, but clean, a bed, a dresser, and a laptop and that was all. It was tiny, but he had drawn on the walls, elaborate pictures of dragons and wild cats, wolves howling at the moon, horses galloping across plains and fields. While the rest of the house had an eerily perfect feel to it, Zuko's room was almost homey, if it hadn't been for the boy, thin, scarred, ragged, with handcuffs around his wrists, a long chain wrapped around the radiator.
Aang had looked at the reports of past and present injuries, all properly healed or healing (Teo had said that despite all the torture, Ozai would take good care of his "slave", given it precisely what it needed, made sure it healed, never push it past its limits), the tiny psych report, and felt like vomiting. He could not imagine what had been done to this boy, this child, of just nineteen. he didn't WANT to imagine it. In fact, he wanted to burn the report, grab a knife and go kill the boy's father then and there.
It was this series of events that led up to the current standing of Aang Kazekama's life. Here he stood, in front of his own office, door opened, looking inside, absolutely speechless. Whether it was from fear, from shock, or something else entirely, he was not sure, but he found it all summed up to the astounding beauty he saw before him.
Zuko Hihoshi was by no means an unmarked boy. Of what pale skin he could see, he could count at least five scars. One across his shoulder, three on his back, and as he shifted, another (this made six, he recounted) on his neck. And the most prominent was a huge burn scar over the left side of his face. In the medical evaluation, it had said that, miraculously, his eye was perfectly fine, though why, they had no idea.
He wore a long sleeved black and gray stripped shirt that was a bit too loose on him, as it fell down one shoulder (the one where he could see the scar). He was wearing jeans, and a pair of converse, which Aang noticed he had kicked off so he was wearing only black socks. His knees were pulled up to his chest, feet resting on the edge of the seat, and he had his arms wrapped around them, chin resting on top. He didn't look scared or nervous, in fact he seemed rather calm for someone in his situation.
Zuko's eyes (gold, Aang recalled) were trained on the floor, and his ebony hair, shaggy and brushing his shoulders, fell across his face. From the single picture he had seen of the younger male, Aang knew he had a beautiful face too, scarred or not. In fact, if anything, the scar simply added to the natural beauty of the tortured boy.
Clearing his throat, Aang stepped into the room. Zuko looked up at him, and he found himself faced with almond shaped eyes of dandelion gold, dripping with unfathomable emotions and feelings, soft-spoken questions that Aang didn't know the answers to. Swallowing, he sat down in the chair behind his desk, smiling at the teen across from him.
"Zuko, right?" he asked casually. "I'm Aang."
One thing the report had said was that Zuko greatly disliked being casually touched. he was fine when a doctor was examining and working on him, but otherwise, he shied away from any human contact. So he did not extend his hand for a handshake.
"...Yes." came the soft response. "It says so on your door, Mr. Kazekama."
"Ah don't call me Mister! I'm only 23 years old, it makes me sound like an old man!" he said with a chuckle. "Aang is fine, no one bothers with my last name anyway. Is it okay if I call you Zuko?"
The teen nodded.
"Alright, Zuko, I'm sorry to have to do this, but I'm going to have to ask you some questions. You don't have to answer anything you don't want to, okay? But try, if you can, alright?"
"Yeah, okay."
Aang smiled again and began his questions.
"How old are you?"
"Nineteen as of October."
"Your full name?"
"Zuko Hihoshi."
"How long have you been living with your sister and father?"
"I have been living with Ozai and Azula, alone, without my mother, for eleven years."
This made Aang pause and he looked up from his notes.
"You call them by first name, are they not related to you?"
Zuko stared at him passively.
"To answer your question, Aang, they are, by definition, my "biological" relatives, yes. But are they related to me? No. No they are not."
Aang watched him for a moment, pencil not moving, silver and gold eyes fixing on one another.
"...No." he said softly. "No, they really....aren't, related to you, are they?"
"No." the teen confirmed.
Clearing his throat, Aang turned back to his notes. He tried hard to ignore the feel of Zuko's eyes on him, failing ever so slightly.
"Can you tell me anything about your- About Azula and Ozai's conditions?"
"Azula is bipolar, slightly schizophrenic, psychotic, I can go on. My father is much the same."
"And you have known this for how long?"
"Ever. I started reading books on psychology and I pretty much...figured it out I suppose." Zuko shrugged.
"If it doesn't offend you, may I ask you.... What about you?"
"Anti-social. Occasionally laliophobic. Aphephobic. Autophobic. Electrophobic."
"You're scared of lightning?"
Zuko raised a slender eyebrow and Aang nearly smacked himself. The main difference between Ozai and Azula's victims was Azula's apparent affection for electrocution. Of all the things for Zuko to be scared of, that one made the most sense.
"Sorry, stupid question, moving on."
He looked down at his notes and faltered. The easy questions had passed, and he had to move on to the less simply ones, to the ones of more sensitive subjects. That mainly being, what had happened to, and what had been see by, Zuko.
The moment Zuko opened his mouth to answer the first question, Aang knew something was off, and as the teen began his tale, he knew exactly what. Emotion never flickered over Zuko's face. No sign of any kind of feeling regarding the events of which he spoke crossed his face at any given point. It was as if he was completely detached from the happenings of which he spoke, like they had absolutely nothing to do with him.
Even as a tale of pain, bloodshed and the worst kinds of darkness of the human self was spun from the full lips of the nineteen year old boy, he never seemed perturbed by what he said. His words said murder and torture, his face said an idle Sunday dinner. His voice said pain, his expression said a walk in the park. It was as if he were an author, and this was simply a book he was retelling to Aang and nothing more. The things of which he spoke were unreal, they had never happened, and had Aang not been on the case for the past year, he might have honestly believed that.
But he knew better.
Aang Kazekama had heard many a story many a time from many a victim, but something in the way Zuko Hihoshi spoke, without any emotion towards the events, made him want to reach out and pull him into a bone crushing hug.
When Zuko finished his tale, he asked softly;
"Where will I go?"
It took Aang a moment to regain his voice before asking;
"Don't you have any family?"
"My uncle. But he travels, and last I heard was living in China. It will take months to get in contact with him, let alone have him come home. I'd rather no bother him." Zuko idly fiddled with the hem of his pants legs, eyes on the ground. "But I'm only nineteen, so they'll probably put me in a foster home, right?"
In most cases, the answer would have been yes. In most cases, Aang would have looked away and let it drop, and told himself not to get attached to a single victim. This time, he threw caution to the wind, said, screw it, and took the dive.
"You can live with me."
Aang fully expected an incredulous look or a polite no, but instead, hopeful golden eyes stared into his again.
"Could I...?"
"Absolutely."
Zuko's lips twitched into a tiny smile and Aang felt his heart practically leaping out of his chest.
"I'd like that."
***
"Would the defendant please stand."
Ozai Hihoshi and his eighteen year old daughter, stood from their seats. On the other side of the courthouse, in the back, as far from the two as they could get, sat Aang and Zuko. The grip the nineteen (now almost twenty) year old hand on Aang's hand was crushing, but his was just as bad so he couldn't blame him. Almost a year, and here they were, about to hear the fates of the two people that had destroyed so much they cared about.
Over the last nine months, things between Zuko and Aang had changed. It had started with them living together, Zuko slowly becoming accustomed to the other person living with him, to being able to actually leave his room, to not getting hit when Aang was upset. Without much prompting, Aang had begun to slowly worm his way closer to the younger male, adjusting him to small changes, ridding him of some of his phobias to the best of his abilities. Some of his fears he could not change, the electrophobia for one thing, and the occasional bouts of laliophobia, though those were few and far between now.
His auto and aphephobia however, both slipped slowly away, further and further back from the boy they had once plagued. It was much easier to get rid of the autophobia for sure, but the aphephobia still stuck around. Granted, he could now be hugged, hold hands, a pat on the back or ruffle of his hair, and not feel like curling up in a corner. But most often, he had to be the one to initiate contact. His fingers had to brush Aang's hand, a small tug on his sleeve for a hug. Aang tried not to overstep boundaries.
Their relationship was of the kind most would call dysfunctional. The almost doctor-patient aspect not so much, but it was the more recent discovery (by recent, they meant six months old) that had them qualified as strange. Somehow, over the course of three months, their feelings had shifted (albeit, quicker than a normal person's, perhaps), and it was one night as they sat together during a thunderstorm that without prompting, Zuko had buried his face against Aang's chest and asked softly to be held. It was about then that they both knew what the other meant to them, and confessions had been exchanged hours later in the dead of night.
But, due to Zuko's aphephobia, they hadn't done virtually anything. They hadn't even kissed yet. Zuko apologized repeatedly, but Aang always told him he knew he was trying. Knowing that he was at least attempting to do something more intimate than just wrap his arms around Aang made the FBI agent's heart flutter. Unlike most males his age, his mind wasn't on sex twenty-four seven. Mainly because he had grown up a monk and remained celibate until twenty. Minimal intimacy was something he could deal with.
"Will the jury state their verdict."
From the corner of his eye, Aang caught Zuko worrying his bottom lip. Without tearing his eyes away from the woman who had just risen, envelope in hand, he chanced slipping his free arm around Zuko's waist and pulling him close. The teen came willingly, pressing to his side, as if the only shield between him and the rest of the world was him. Aang wouldn't have been shocked if it was.
"We the jury find Ozai and Azula Hihoshi... guilty on all accounts."
Zuko sucked in a sharp breath and Aang looked down at him, gently smoothing his hand over his side. The eyes that enchanted him so much rose to look at him and he smiled reassuringly. Zuko smiled softly back, curling into his hold once more before looking determinedly back at the jury.
"We the jury would also like to put forward a vote for the implementation of the death penalty."
"On which account?"
"Ozai Hihoshi's."
"Very well, all in favor?"
Unanimously the jury raised their hands. Not even a single member looked remotely sorry for their decision, had no hesitation in what they were doing.
"Approved. Ozai Hihoshi is hereby sentenced to life on death row until he is to be given the death penalty, Azula Hihoshi is sentenced to life in a secure mental facility. Court adjourned."
There was a bang and it was all over. Just like that, the almost twelve year horror story ended.
As Aang and Zuko walked away from the courthouse, arm and arm, neither spoke. They were both expecting to be awoken at any moment and told this was all just a dream. Neither had expected an outcome this perfect from the case, and had Zuko been at the emotional balance to cry, he would have. Instead, he paused in his steps and slid his arm out of Aang's.
"Zuko...?"
Zuko smiled shyly and tugged on the front of the taller male's shirt. Aang's arms slid around him until he realized that a tug on the front of the shirt was new and Zuko had never done that before. The teen didn't pull away though, and instead, standing up on his toes, he leaned forward and gently pressed their lips together.
The kiss was shy, inexperienced, but it wasn't hesitant or fearful or anything else. Zuko knew just what he wanted to do, and he knew how to do it, even if he never had before. Gently, slowly, Aang kissed back, feeling his body already becoming addicted to the feel of those plush lips against his. It wasn't even a deep kiss, just lips on lips in the most innocent way, and Aang felt like he was falling for Zuko all over again.
After a few moments Zuko pulled back, cheeks flushing.
"Thank you, Aang."
"Whatever for?" Aang murmured, staring into his love's golden irises.
"For making sure I survived."
At this, Aang smiled, leaning over to softly brush their lips together again.
"You're welcome."
xXxXx
>D
This is like, my second or third favorite AU for Avatar EVER. That being Zuko's family are SERIAL KILLERS! .....Cause it makes sense.
....I wanna expand on this verse....
39/50