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Jet still remembered the first time he had seen Lee.
Jet remembered a lot of things. The sick heavy feeling in his stomach as his parents had gripped his hand, telling him to run. Heat, smoke billowing, flooding his lungs as his eyes burned, maybe from the smoke, maybe from something else. The deep rage, that had set in him, the way his tiny hands had gripped into fists, clenched hard enough to bleed. He had vowed revenge, then. He did not know if he succeeded at that, would ever.
He remembered meeting every one of his friends, the Freedom Fighters. The knowledge that had set in as soon as he’d quickly realized that these people would become important to him. His friends. His family.
Smellerbee when she was young, not too much younger than he had been, the way her hand had slipped into his— warmth.
Longshot’s hand on his shoulder, a silent acknowledgement, a companionship they both knew would not go away. Some bonds were forged through more than blood.
In many ways, this was no different. Yet somehow, it felt so endlessly foreign.
Standing on that ship, sea salt in the air, faint on his tongue, he had seen him.
Tired, hungry dirty, war torn. He had sat with his Uncle, hat pulled deep over his face, as if he were hiding.
He was the same as every other pitiful refugee on this ship, in this world.
But when he’d looked up, face shadowed, Jet had seen him.
Seen the look in his eyes— the anger. The bitterness. The heaviness, the regret.
It was the same look Jet saw in his own eyes, lidded and heavy in the mirror.
And that was when he realized it.
And so when Jet needed (wanted) help in redistributing the food, he found himself walking over to them.
His Uncle was kind, almost needlessly so. Jet did not know how he felt about that.
Lee had agreed of course, the not yet there grin on his face barely visible.
And while Jet remembered many things, he could not quite piece together when, what exact moment, when he had looked at Lee and realized something new.
Standing in the dim light of the ship, he’d seen Lee. As if for the first time.
His face, edged and raw from traveling— yet young, as if it hadn’t quite been able to abandon lingering babyface. Hair, dark, messy and straggled. It looked like it was growing out.
The scar, sat on his face like it had always been there. Not raw, yet still red. Old. It looked like it had hurt.
(Jet remembered the heat, the smoke, crackling, smoking. Burning burning burning.)
He’d wanted to ask if Lee remembered too, what he’d seen in the fire, if he missed his old home, if he had one.
Jet wanted to know him. He also doubted that he ever would be able to.
It was the guarded look on his face, set deep in his eyes.
Jet had wanted to ask, and if Lee had asked him he would have told.
But instead he tossed him bag of rolls, and let out a scoff. “Captain’s disgusting. As long as he eats the rest of us can starve, right?”
The shake of his shoulders, almost imperceptible. A quiet laugh, bitter. “Isn’t that just the way of the world?”
The refugees on the boat had feasted that night, as close as many of them had come to it in a while.
Jet sat, cross legged on the hard floor, surrounded by his friends. The food was okay, as only preserved food meant for long trips could be. Still, it tasted better than anything he’d had in weeks.
Smellerbee leaned against him, head on shoulders. Sometimes, if Jet thought hard enough he remembered having a sister, once. Mostly, he tried not to think about it.
“I’ve made mistakes,” he said honestly, because there was something about these people that made him want to talk. “In the past. But I just want to be better. Try again.”
Lee’s eyes shifted, as he agreed, meeting his own opposite his.
They were amber, bright against the dim of the night. Against the moonlight, they looked to flicker, crackle in the light.
He remembered meeting all of the Freedom Fighters.
Steady hands in his, eye contact made across a room, the will they all shared to fight. Righteous anger, righteous something. The want for a family. Something to believe in.
Lee stared at his eyes, his gaze burning with something close to curiosity. Jet looked right back.
And he didn’t quite understand why, but he knew that he wanted Lee to join the Freedom Fighters. Wanted to be close with him, to know him. He wanted to understand him.
Jet wanted to be better, and Lee did too. Maybe that was just enough.
—
They arrived in Ba Sing Se, finally. Lee’s uncle, seemed to be the only one willing to say anything as they left the ship. Talked, talked about anything really. It was a startling comparison to his nephew, who seemed unable to do anything but scowl, arms crossed as they walked through the platform.
“Ah!” Lee’s Uncle— Mushi, a rather fitting name Jet thought, as they passed by a tea cart. After just one night, they’d spent barely talking, he knew that Mushi loved tea. And that Lee did not feel the same way. “One jasmine tea please,” he said.
He wrapped his hands around the cup, inhaled deeply as steam rose steadily from the cup... “Perfect temperature,” he said happily.
“You know,” he continued as they walked. “I found work for me and my nephew at a tea shop—”
Once again, Jet thought, not exactly surprising.
“I’m sure I can help you and your friends find work there or somewhere else,” he said, turning to Smellerbee and Longshot.
Smellerbee let out a light laugh at that, “We’re okay.”
Longshot nodded as well.
“Of course, well then always feel free to visit then,” he said pleasantly.
Jet locked eyes with Lee, who just raised an eyebrow.
“My Uncle makes very good tea,” he said.
“I’m sure,” Jet said.
“I don’t like tea,” Smellerbee said helpfully.
“Yeah, me neither,” said Jet.
Lee made a noise, the closest Jet heard from a laugh out of him, as they parted ways.
They walked a little further, before Smellerbee said, “You want him to join the Freedom Fighters.”
She was right, as she often was, but he did not want to admit it. It felt heavier than that, and to admit that so freely felt wrong somehow.
“I know you Jet,” she continued. “And I don’t know if that’s a good idea—”
“You saw him” Jet said. “You saw—”
“Saw what?”
And he wanted to explain, but couldn’t. How when he’d looked at him, he’d seen something, someone important.
He’s like me, he wanted to say.
He didn’t say anything at all.
Smellerbee just sighed, “Remember why we’re here, Jet. All of us, we’re going straight.”
Jet knew she was right. “That doesn’t mean there’s no more Freedom Fighters.”
“Is it even about the Freedom Fighters? Isn’t—”
“Well then what’s it about?”
“Jet—” She stopped talking when Longshot reached over to grab her hand, made eye contact with her. She looked at him, and let out a deep sigh. “Jet,” she said instead. “Just don’t forget what’s important.”
Jet thought he knew very well what was important, refused to ever let it out of his sight, even if it killed him, he was someone who would never forget, could never forget.
So he nodded in agreement, and her hand slipped in his as the three of them walked through the city, to find their apartment.
A new life, he thought silently.
It didn’t feel very new so far.
—
Sometimes Jet felt like his past was a part of him, branded so clearly onto him just as a burn would, sitting there, clouding his vision, covering his senses, until nothing was there but the anger— because that was all that was left.
When he was like that, he would do anything, anything, to prevent that from happening to anyone like him ever again— but Jet could never prevent anything, could never protect anyone.
He hated Ba Sing Se.
The city was disgusting.
Probably not all of it, Jet knew. He was sure the upper levels of the city, cut off and isolated from where all the newcomers and refugees showed up, where all the rich people and merchants lived, was probably well kept, some idyllic perfect haven for all those people, without a care in the world.
For most of the citizens of Ba Sing Se, the last great stronghold against the Fire Nation, the city was awful.
Dirty alleyways, dark corners, crowded housing, military everywhere in the streets as if that caused anything but unease, and really if there was one word to describe Ba Sing Se, Jet thought, it would be unease.
They had been there for only a few days, settling into what should be a new life, and Jet was feeling more tense than ever.
He could feel it in his bones, he was itching to fight, his hands twitching to curl around his familiar hook blades.
But there was nothing to fight, no Fire Nation in this city, no mention of it at all.
Jet knew it should have been comforting, to be so free from what had haunted him for so long. It wasn’t right though. It was only disturbing.
Even just walking down the streets, he could swear he could just barely make out hushed conversations, of the war, of the Fire Nation, but he’d get a little closer, try to ask them, and get nothing.
There is no war in Ba Sing Se, they said.
Here, we are safe, they said.
Jet was sick of being lied to, it felt like this city was choking him.
Jet wasn’t sure what it was, but he found himself outside of a shitty tea shop one day, on another dreary corner of the city.
“What are you doing here,” Lee asked.
He was standing on the other side of the counter, brown eyes narrowed at him.
“I’d like some tea,” he said simply.
Lee rolled his eyes, but obliged. He had a brief, hushed conversation with his Uncle on the side, and when he brought the tea to where Jet was sitting, he sat down across from him.
“I’m on a break,” he said. “Apparently.”
He looked annoyed at that, as if he loved his job at this random tea shop in Ba Sing Se more than anything, and being dragged away from it caused him pain.
Or maybe he just hated being around Jet.
“The tea’s good,” he said, mostly to say something. It was true though.
“Yeah my Uncle makes it,” Lee said. “He’s basically the backbone of the shop. I’m also not allowed anywhere near itself. Apparently, I ruin it.”
It was perhaps the most Jet had ever heard Lee speak in one sitting.
“Why are you here?” Lee asked, after a moment of silence.
“I told you,” he said. “Tea.”
“I’m not joining your stupid gang,” he said.
“I’m not asking you to,” Jet said.
That was, maybe a little bit of a lie. He’d prefer it, of course if Lee did, but it wasn’t necessary.
He actually didn’t know quite what he wanted from Lee, but for now, just sitting here was enough.
The shop was a little crowded, a little cold, but the tea was still warm in his hands, and sometimes during their short conversation Jet could almost make out a ghost of a smile on Lee’s face.
Yeah, Jet thought, taking another long sip. Maybe for now, this could be enough.