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It's almost concerning how nice it feels in Zuko's family vacation home. How in the heart of the Fire Nation, in days leading up to a terrifying showdown that will determine the fate of the world, it's easy to get lost in the novelty of exploring a house bigger than any Suki ever saw on Kyoshi Island; to relish swimming in the ocean without fear of dangerous sea serpents lurking in the water; to enjoy the sunshine for a change rather than avoiding it at all cost.
"It's disturbing," Jet agrees — or maybe escalates would be a better word — when she voices her feelings. They're lying together on the second-floor balcony of the vacation villa, a blanket spread over them to keep from burning in the sun, simultaneously wearing as little as they can within the bounds of decency. Jet's hair is drying in salty curls from a pre-breakfast dip in the ocean, a scattering of new freckles steadily creeping up his neck from his shoulders as he gets more and more sun exposure. Suki's got her own, covering nearly every inch of her now — she's never gotten this much sun in her life, even in the warmer months on Kyoshi Island.
"Don't get me wrong, the privacy is nice," she adds, tucking the blanket under her arms as she snuggles closer to Jet. "I could see myself getting used to this."
"No kidding," Jet agrees as he melts, face buried in her hair. "I haven't had that since —"
He falters, the way he does when there's a memory just out of reach. Suki doesn't have all the details of what happened to him in Ba Sing Se, and maybe never will, but it left him with scars both mental and physical. She squeezes his arm.
"I moved into the village barracks with the other warriors when I was ten," she says. "Soon as I finished training. Made going through puberty a little bit of hell." She's found it helps him when she tells him about her past. Giving him specifics to look for in his own memory rather than leaving him searching blindly. He doesn't reply to that, moving her arm around his neck and kissing her cheek.
"Will you go back there? Once this is over?"
Suki doesn't have to think about her answer. "Of course. I mean, this place is nice, but it isn't home."
Jet hums softly in thought, the sound making a pleasant vibration in his chest where her head rests. "I guess I'll go home too," he says after a while. "Find out if the gang in Gaipan will have me back."
Gaipan. That's a long way from Kyoshi Island, she thinks, tallying up the miles. It's never occurred to her that going home for both of them means splitting up.
"If you ever want a change of scenery, you can always come find me," she says, looking up. "Just ask for Suki and blink those pretty brown eyes, and maybe the village guard won't have you fed to the Unagi."
Jet's laugh is a scratchy, rough sound, his voice still coarse from the damage inside his chest. Katara did the best she could with it in Ba Sing Se, and again when they reunited at the Air Temple, but he'll probably have the scars forever.
"Thanks. I'll be sure to return the favor if you ever come up north."
Suki smiles and climbs on top of him, brushing his hair back as she kisses him deeply. The blanket pools around her waist, soft sun warming her back, joined by Jet's warm hands pulling her down to meet him.
There's shouting from the courtyard below, and Suki sighs.
"Guess we should go check that out," Jet says regretfully. He reaches for the tunic thrown over the balcony rail, wrapping it around himself as he stands. Suki adjusts her top where the straps have migrated down her shoulders, stepping into her sandals as she gets up. She haphazardly folds their blanket and tosses it on a chair, following Jet down the stairs.
There's a commotion between Toph and Sokka — someone stepped on someone's sandcastle and someone else won't believe it was an accident — and Suki's almost annoyed, but at the same time it's relieving to be able to worry about petty things like wanton sandcastle destruction. They have time.
+
It's almost infuriating how easily everyone else settles in at the beach house. The first night, it's squabbles over who gets the biggest bedroom, who gets to bathe first, who has to go out for food in the morning — and Jet just watches it all, wondering how they all manage.
He's been on edge since the Fire Princess tracked them down at the Air Temple — not helped by Katara disappearing the next morning, the firebender nowhere to be found either — and now, in the Fire Lord's personal vacation villa, it's maddening to see everyone treating this situation like it's...fine. Like there's no battle ahead, no threat to the world to deal with.
Suki seems similarly out of sorts (so does the firebender for that matter, but fuck him), and it's late in the night when they both manage to get to sleep. The following days do nothing to ease his tension, even as he sees the others — Suki included — making themselves right at home.
When Sokka suggests going to see a play, Jet expects nobody to agree. But Suki agrees it's exactly what they need to take their minds off the impending doom, could even be fun, and it's been long enough since they've had any of that, so as evening falls, they make tracks to the local theatre.
The next two hours are worse than solitary confinement at the Boiling Rock. Not just the play — though the plot is nonsensical, the acting is grotesque, and The Duke could come up with a better ending than that — but both Katara and Aang are in a snit by the time they leave the building, and Zuko's in a fouler mood than any of them. Sokka's quip that at least the effects were decent is neither true nor comforting. Jet's head is pounding when they return to the villa, and he excuses himself as the rest of the group chatter among themselves.
Jet goes to his and Suki's shared room — a large bedroom with an adjoining washroom — and draws a bath in the gigantic bathtub. There are actual pipes here, with running water that's hot and clean. He sinks into the water, feeling the tightness in his chest loosening with the heat and steam. The tension doesn't leave, but it does ease.
He doesn't realize he's drifting off until the sound of footsteps on the floor startles him awake. He looks up in time to see Suki slip into the washroom, a dark glass bottle held to her chest.
"There you are. Zuko broke the lock off the royal wine cellar," she says, sitting down on the wooden bench beside the tub. "I don't think anyone saw me take a whole bottle."
Jet sits up, propping his arms on the side of the tub and resting his chin in his palm. "Not very responsible of you," he teases her, clicking his tongue. "What would Avatar Kyoshi say if she could see you now?"
"Going by contemporary writings about her, probably steal more," Suki says, turning the bottle in her hands. She wrestles the cork out — with impressive strength, considering the date on the bottle is pre-war — and offers him the bottle first. He takes a swig, and nearly chokes on the bitterness. Heat spreads from his chest into his limbs as he swallows.
"Euch."
"Not as bad as prison hooch," Suki decides after taking a more measured sip. "Could be better, though. At Full Moon Bay, Fume got ahold of this really good mulberry wine from Gaoling. We'll have to see if Toph can hook us up, once this is all over."
Jet hums in agreement, accepting another drink when she offers. He thinks he remembers mulberry wine — Ba Sing Se, maybe. Some storehouse he'd broken into, looking for food. It'd tasted good going down; he thinks he'd kissed someone, that night. When he tries to remember who, it's a blur, which only reaffirms his suspicions. Ugh.
"So," Suki says, moving from the bench to the floor and resting her arm on the tub. "Any particular reason you're hiding out in the bath?"
"I'm not hiding," he says, defensive on instinct, even though he knows she's only teasing. He sinks down further in the water. "That play fucking sucked."
"Which part? The part where it made fools out of all of us, rehashed our past failures and had us all die horribly?" she asks dryly. She swirls her hand in the water, touching his shoulder with cool fingertips. "But you're upset about something else."
"I feel like everyone's just forgetting that there's a war going on." As the words come, so too does the splitting pain behind his eyes. He presses them closed, trying to ignore it. "Am I crazy for thinking we should be preparing, instead of — fucking around? Pretending everything's fine, that there's —" There's no war in Ba Sing Se there's no war there's nowarthere'snowar—
Suki's hand on his face pulls him back to his body, to the present. The concern in her eyes grounds him, gives him something to latch onto, to keep from going back to that place.
"I don't think you're crazy for it," she says, pushing his hair out of his face, scratching his scalp. "I think we're all scared out of our minds about what's coming, and we're all reacting to it very normally. That just looks different from you to them."
She stands up, and for a moment Jet thinks she's going to leave; instead she climbs into the tub, still dressed, and settles down across from him, letting her hair down from its topknot.
"Your clothes are gonna get all wet," he points out, amused.
"You're just trying to get me undressed," she counters, which is a fair assumption. He offers her the bottle of wine and watches her take a long drink. "And drunk," she adds, raising the bottle before setting it on the side of the tub.
"You started it." He watches her, admiring the flush that creeps across her face as the liquor and hot water combine. She leans her head on her arm, deep blue eyes combing him up and down as she reaches for him.
"We're gonna be fine," she says gently, squeezing his hand. "Aang's gonna be ready for anything the Fire Lord throws at him. And he'll have plenty of backup from us."
He laces his fingers with hers. "Of course he will."
Suki's eyes glint, and she leans in to kiss his cheek. "How about a spar on the beach to make sure we're up to scratch? It's been a minute since we had some one-on-one."
The thought of a fight has the blood rushing to his limbs again instead of his head, the prospect of releasing days' worth of tension an invigorating force.
"Thought you'd never ask," he says. Suki grins, and splashes him as she gets out of the tub.
"Come on, we're losing daylight!" she calls over her shoulder as she leaves the room.
Jet glances out the balcony doors. It's fully dark outside, just like it was when they got back to the house. Shaking his head, he gets out of the water and grabs his tunic from the floor.
+
There's a nearly perfect full moon in the sky, lighting up the ocean waves so they contrast the blackness of the sand. Suki ties her hair back, standing in the shallows as Jet walks down the beach towards her. His shoulders are a tense line, his hands flexing at his sides. A couple rounds of sparring will fix that.
"Water cold enough for you?" she asks when he shudders upon stepping into the water.
"Reminds me of winter baths at home," he replies, grimacing. Suki hums in commiseration.
Though she intended to jump into a spar, muscle memory takes over. She shifts into the familiar steps of a kata as easily as breathing, feeling the weight of her limbs, the slight dizziness induced by the strong drink; she sees the motions as if through a new pair of eyes, mindful of every fingertip as it moves through the air. A piece of driftwood serves as a substitute for her fan.
She feels Jet's eyes trained on her, quiet, questioning. Learning, she realizes, when he sweeps the pin from the closure of his tunic and mimics her stance.
"It's gonna be hard to keep your balance," he points out, raising an eyebrow at her while he copies her footwork. Though he's never picked up a fan, he moves with as much purpose as any of her warriors.
"You're as drunk as I am," she points out, sand and shell shifting underfoot as she moves through the familiar forms.
"You don't have the practice fighting in treetops," he counters; his stance is steady, she'll give him that.
"Unfamiliar forms," she retorts, speeding her motions and fighting the pressure of the water around her ankles. "I've had seven years to build muscle memory, practice these drills to the second."
"Fast learner," he fires back, repeating her motions in mirrored step, his left to her right. Showing off, she realizes with amusement. "Something you learn on the front lines — adapt to survive."
Suki tucks her makeshift fan into her belt, taking a resting stance, and levels Jet with her gaze. If he wants a competition, she'll give him a damn competition.
"Alright," she says. "Adapt, then."
She silently counts three before striking; it's not enough for him to prepare, and her first attack drives him deeper into the waters, forearms blocking elbows and parrying fists. He's clumsier in the heat of a fight; his lack of formal training shows in how he telegraphs movements and doesn't pick up on hers until too late. Yet, in her intoxicated state, he almost measures up. He really is a fast learner, and not nearly as hampered by injuries as when she began training him.
It's he who lands on his knees, though, her hand on his shoulder and the other at his throat. Were she armed, she'd have him totally at her mercy; as it is, he gazes up at her, a trust in his eyes she knows is reserved for her alone. His hand circles her wrist, loose, the callused pad of his thumb resting on her pulse, racing steadily with the adrenaline pumping through her veins.
"Rematch," he says. Suki grins and lets him up.
They return to the beach, and he follows her lead again, going slowly at first through the drill and then picking up speed. It's natural for her to start talking as she demonstrates the forms.
"Some masters in Kyoshi's time stressed the importance of discipline," she says, moving fluidly between stances. "They said a clear head was crucial at all times, and required their disciples to abstain from all mind-altering substances."
Jet's eyes are focused on her arms as he follows her form, but his head is tilted toward her, listening.
"Others," she continues, "taught that discipline meant being prepared to fight in any state of alteration. Early sifus of Kyoshi's teaching were said to spike the water barrels in the dojo with sorghum liquor, so their students would have to master the forms while impaired."
"Smart," Jet muses. "You still use that?"
"When Yokoya Peninsula split off from the mainland, trade routes between Kyoshi Island and the Earth Kingdom went sour for a few decades." Suki reaches over, poking Jet's back so he straightens his shoulders. "We didn't have the means to produce large quantities of liquor, and import from the Fire Nation was expensive, so we learned to make do with other methods."
Jet hums thoughtfully. "You know a lot about your past," he says softly.
"The Kyoshi Warriors aren't just defenders of the island. We're defenders of our culture and history. If we don't know where we came from, how can we know where to go?"
Jet's brows furrow as he shifts into the next stance. "You said Avatar Kyoshi created the Dai Li. They're defenders of their culture too," he says; there's a challenge in his voice, and she hears it loud and clear; why follow the word of someone whose teachings led to such ruin?
"Sometimes," Suki says, "the immediate solution isn't the same as the solution that will benefit future generations. The Dai Li fixed the problem of uprisings resulting in artifacts and cultural documents being destroyed."
"At the expense of people being allowed to rise at all."
Suki nods. "It wasn't the right way. They gained too much power, and abused it. They were loyal first and foremost to the Earth King, for one thing; it's hard to uphold your own morals when you operate on someone else's orders. On Kyoshi Island, anyone can have a say in the way things are. Our mayors oversee keeping of the peace, but ultimately the people govern ourselves."
"That sounds like chaos," Jet remarks. "People need control. If you don't lead them, they'll scatter."
"People need guidance." Suki steps into his space; tilts his chin up, adjusts the angle of his shoulder, the set of his feet. Moves him through the motions of a form, using her hands to mold his movements. It's perfectly executed. Stiff, precise. "If you don't let people make their own decisions, and focus only on keeping them in line, they'll fall all over themselves when they're left on their own." She steps back, watching him stumble without her to lean on. "That is chaos."
He watches her, eyes narrowed. He's getting it now, she can tell. She meets his eyes, and smiles.
"Most people just need an example to follow."
She moves through the kata quickly — she could do this in her sleep, backwards, blindfolded. When she's done, she gestures for Jet to repeat it. He's a half-step slower. His forms are imperfect, his steps unsteady on the sloping beach. But there's pride on his face when he stops in the resting position beside her.
"You're doing very well." Suki kisses his cheek, delighting in the bashful scrunch of his features. "Now, let's see about that rematch."
+
Jet's muscles are sore when he wakes, but it's a pleasant ache that comes from working them out, one that makes him feel a little better about staying in bed a while longer. The sun's streaming in through the gauzy, sand-colored curtains, and for once, he doesn't roll over to cover his eyes.
Suki's still asleep on his chest, every feature relaxed and soft. He runs a hand through her messy hair, careful not to disturb her, and wonders how long they can get away with lying in before the others come knocking. She turns her head, her nose scrunching as the light hits her face, and makes a quiet sound of discontent until her face is buried in his neck again.
Maybe it's not totally bad to be hiding out here, if he gets to wake up like this. Jet splays his hand on her back, feels her soft cool skin against his palm, her heartbeat steady and slightly offbeat to his own; a step ahead of him, like she is in their spars. Never second-guessing herself. Never afraid of herself.
He wonders if Kyoshi Island has forests. What the sunsets look like. How living impartially really feels, without all the walls and order and forced isolation. After all this is over — and over sounds like a fever dream, but with every day their final battle gets closer, he's forced to accept it as a very real possibility — he resolves to find out.