Crossing the Lines, Chapter 3
I have, I think, three outstanding stories to finish. Here is a DRAFT of the most wide-open of those stories...
Chapter 3
It was easy enough to slip into Sokka’s usual guise of semi-apolitical traveler, stocking up on supplies as he walked the secondary, less frequented market on the far side of this small port city. Second nature took over as he casually queried the vendors about rumors of Fire Nation movements and community sentiment. As he found his earlier data expanded upon and subtly shifted in perspective he found himself grudgingly grateful for Ling-Ling’s having forced him into exploring something other than the main market for supplies and information.
A very small-town boy himself, he’d half-forgotten some of the lessons of the last year’s trek across the world. Such as how the larger a population, the greater the likelihood was that information would flow across it in different currents and eddies. Only a fool would think the flow of the river would be confined to its main stem.
And a mighty course like that rising along the walls within which he and Ling-Ling had found refuge would undoubtedly breed as many currents of opinion as it did branches along the delta.
A tiny voice suggested to Sokka that he had been looking for an excuse to delay his return to Aang and the others.
He prided himself on being unfailingly honest with, at least himself, in the assessments he made without other’s knowledge. So, he deliberately considered Ling-Ling’s admittedly few physical graces, weighed them against what he was quite prepared to concede were formidable mental assets, and assessed his own response to her.
The end result? At this point in time, given his belief in her still lingering obsession with Prince Zuko, he thought he was reasonably safe to allot some limited time to assuring her safety. No doubt she intrigued him, and that was an admitted attraction, but it was certainly not enough to cloud his mind against his responsibilities. Especially since he was still pretty sure that no amount of animation or generosity could make up for Ling-Ling’s severely plain features.
For a mere fraction of a second, his mind lingered again on Zuko’s oblique comment, all those weeks ago, regarding Ling-Ling’s possessing “qualities” as he envisioned what those ill-fitting robes of hers might have concealed… before he aborted that line of thinking with a harsh laugh. He’d always suspected the prince of using that comment to somehow compensate for what he’d suspected and even accused as Sokka’s setting him up as the fall guy in that absurd reverse-seduction that resulted in their mutual escape.
He’d had nothing to argue against that particular line of thinking. In their weeks together after their escape Zuko had never directly mentioned Ling-Ling again. Well, but maybe he had alluded to it, once or twice, in general harangues against Sokka’s manipulativeness along the way… Sokka had shrugged that particular possibility off when he’d parted from the prince.
As he surrendered hard-won coin to the remaining vendors of cooked meats and ready-prepared vegetables, he noted those calling for labor to generate the next morning’s offerings. It was, by now, habit on his part. It never hurt to have a bolt-hole established in the way of such easy camouflage. Granted, they were looking for laborers willing to work the pre-sunrise shift unloading shipboard holds and farmers’ carts; Sokka’s least favorite shift. Ah well, he’d done worse. And while he still assumed he’d be long-gone by the time such labor was called upon, it was helpful to know he could count on being relatively invisible by virtue of being able to blend in if he found some need to stay.
Having already excused himself, Sokka ignored his reasons for noting the availability of work - and cover - for staying beyond his self-imposed twenty-four hour limit in the city.
Ling-Ling reminded him of his odd allegiance to the Fire Prince. Worse, she reminded him of a debt to another native of the Fire Nation that he had not, well, ever really intended at the outset to repay. He wanted to believe that pulling her from potential spotlight by the Earth Kingdom was sufficient recompense for her allowing him to escape her father’s prison along with her lover, Prince Zuko.
Sokka hated being duty-bound to someone from the Fire Nation (As he considered it, his scowl dropped the price of the near-day-old flatbread in half yet again with his current vendor). He had enough of that in his confused relationship with Zuko. And from that relationship he’d learned that unhinging oneself from such duty-debts with the Fire Nation was anything but straight-forward.
Great.
For his own peace of mind, if would be best to not even worry about Ling-Ling’s perception of these things. As he bought sweet melon to supplement a fish stew, arguing about this vendor’s luck in finding a buyer for fruit that would be disdained by the morning’s buyers, he clamped down on his too active imagination. At least, where it came to Ling-Ling.
As he shopped, Sokka attempted to concentrate on his usual assessment of Aang’s position in the local situation. This had largely agreed with the opinion given in the main market, which was reassuring.
He also caught an interesting current hitherto unheard in the Earth Kingdom regarding another player in the world’s affairs. One only tangentially related to Aang.
Sokka habitually ignored much of what he heard regarding the Avatar’s companions on these excursions. He’d learned some time ago it was generally hard on his ego. Toph’s power and Katara’s virtuosity, when combined with Aang’s brilliance, left little scope for his own cleverness as far as public relations went. After all, who cared how carefully chosen the canyon site for the convenient rock fall or opportune flood that somehow managed to avoid all damage to other than Fire Nation assets? And generals or captains were even less inclined to share credit for a well-conceived hit than his friends.
So he almost overlooked attributions regarding a few acts of sabotage that he knew full well were his own until tugged by the odd note of surprise and excitement disengaged from the Avatar. Nonetheless, he was at least as tickled by the apparent source of each strike against the Fire Lord as if it had been attributed to Aang or his companions.
After his period of incarceration with Prince Zuko, Sokka had found a new actor for title billing in some of his more carefully-wrought plans. If Sokka now and then left some indication of the Fire Prince’s presence in some particularly spectacular act of sabotage he’d managed to pull off, well, it wasn’t as if the prince was around himself to deny blame, or, for that matter, credit. Sokka was quite sure that only good could come of dividing Fire Nation loyalties.
And how conveniently the leadership of that nation had delineated itself. Maybe it wasn’t the good, the bad, and the ugly - he’d never heard tale regarding the Fire Lord’s looks, and he was honestly hard-pressed to call Zuko actually ‘good’, but still…
Now he smirked in consideration of those weeks in which he’d learned key elements of the prince’s personality that could, so easily, color any particular act with a signature likely to be attributed to the Fire Prince. Granted, Zuko would almost certainly have gutted him upon discovery of such a deliberate perversion of his reputation. But Sokka reassured himself that all was fair in war, and took particular care to leave Zuko’s imprint on only a few of the most obviously high-minded of his own escapades and, probably more importantly from the prince’s perspective, those that involved no Fire Nation deaths. He tried to tell himself he owed nothing to the young man he’d spent scant weeks with across a wall of bars, but his soul knew better.
After all, in the time that Zuko had tracked them across the world, he’d never actually threatened them with death. And in their time together in prison and afterwards, he’d extended himself to aid Sokka, no questions asked. That was that. So, Sokka had, from time to time, imprinted some act of sabotage against the Fire Nation with Zuko’s name. But never unless he could first convince himself that at least some element of the Fire Nation would applaud such action. And every time he did so, he tried to leave some signal reminding Zuko, if no one else, of the Forty-first, that single act of heroism that had first tied their fates together by sending the young prince in exile and in search of the Avatar. It was his own attempt to communicate with Zuko in a means he hoped the other boy would understand and, perhaps, forgive.
So he hadn’t been entirely straightforward with Ling-Ling. He’d not actually managed to set Zuko to act against his father. He didn’t in fact hope that such a thing was possible. He almost, oddly enough, rather hoped it was not. But he was quite prepared to use Zuko to help instigate the fall of his nation’s government.
Over time, Sokka’s own perspective regarding right and wrong, love and hate, had evolved. In his time with the Fire Nation prince, he’d developed a terrible sympathy for his companion’s situation, completely at odds with his own morality and yet still strangely in sympathy. As he had attempted to reassure Ling-Ling as to Zuko’s current prospects he’d been unusually honest; he truly believed that Zuko wished nothing more than to disappear into simple obedience to duty. And he also equally understood how striking the contrast lay between what he must inexorably see as the differing paths duty required of the Fire Prince.
“Damned glad I’m not him,” Sokka mused to himself. “Can’t imagine what it must feel like to have your loyalties torn. Bad enough having to play good guy, all innocent and above board, most of the time, and still stick it to the Fire Nation in these, well, other ways that nobody ever knows about…”
His shopping finally finished, Sokka shouldered his bag to conceal the shudder his inner thoughts engendered.
He admitted to himself that he’d half hoped Ling-Ling would be long gone when he returned to their hidey-hole along the city wall. Granted, some of that may have been related to the somewhat limited extent of his provisions for the evening’s fare. Sokka had far too much experience at food deprivation to welcome shortcomings to his dinner plate in any case.
Still, there was something reassuring about the dull mop of Ling-Ling’s hair protruding from the shadows of the wall’s curve. There had been something very unsatisfying in the way they had left her behind in the prison. Oh yes, it had been a huge relief - neither of them understood her in the least, and the apparent ease with which she’d seemed to express interest in both of them at the same time had left Zuko and Sokka wholly undone. Neither boy could explain it with anything in their experience or understanding, and it left both of them with their skin crawling.
But for Sokka, it had also left him intrigued.
He was, he would have admitted to any who’d posed the question, somewhat unusual. He envisioned for himself a simple, linear chain of affection and loyalty connecting himself to a future wife. At the same time, for all his lack of experience or observation otherwise, Sokka’s imagination easily created other, more convoluted possibilities. And Ling-Ling had given Sokka what he suspected was his first concrete example of someone who had explored some of those different avenues.
It was the scientist, the anthropologist, in Sokka who wanted to reach out to Ling-Ling, side by side with the penitent seeking forgiveness for the wrongs he’d done to her, who brought forth a crooked grin to greet the equally crooked smile of welcome from the Fire Nation girl huddled against the barrier of the Earth Kingdom city’s stone wall.
“Well then, you’re still here. Did you think to keep your head up for hawkers selling something to eat?” he asked, confident in his own experience. “Thought not. Wouldn’t be many along here anyway, so you’d have to take what you could get unless you were willing to venture away from the wall.”
Ling-Ling rolled her eyes. “You told me you were going for food, whether I stayed or not. Seemed to me I was best served waiting to see what you’d come up with. Odds are I’ll be lucky to make it back across the river to Fire Nation territory before morning anyway.”
“Let’s see. Your dad must’ve kicked my ass for every couple bites I ate in that damned prison. I’m thinking you still owe me even after helping me out of that hell-hole.” It was a reach. He was curious as to her response, and had no intention of attempting to defend his assertion.
When a harsh blush bloomed across her features, Sokka felt guilty, biting his cheek in chagrin.
“Ah, so you really are a blackmailer,” Ling-Ling breathed, relief apparent in her voice as her color returned to normal.
“Damnit! I am not! Oh fuckit! Whatever, why should I care what Fire Nation thinks anyway!” And Sokka pulled out of his pack and carryall his garnerings for their evening meal. At this point, he could see no way of presenting it to her without appearing to be attempting to buy something from her, either future silence or current submission. Neither was acceptable. With an expression of annoyance he dumped it all on the bench and strode away to look out at the broad river, back to both girl and food.
That’s a first, he thought to himself. Since when did I turn my back to food? Or, come to think of it, to a threat?
Almost reluctantly, Sokka looked over his shoulder at Ling-Ling.
Who had, very obligingly, kneeled in the dirt before the bench on which he’d laid his offerings for their evening meal, one hand partially outstretched to explore the various wrappings on the tea, rice, stew, fruit, etc. that he’d collected.
He shuddered. His sister would have slugged him, hard, for implying that he’d accomplished anything other than the minimum expected in his provisions. They would then both have laughed heartily, thankful for even a mouthful. But that was based on experience and a lifetime together. Somehow it rankled to see this alien girl on her knees giving the appearance of thankfulness for whatever he’d provided. Maybe it had to do with the juxtaposition in his mind of her hand on the tray of slop the prison had offered as food as it waited to execute him. Somehow, his mind had a hard time equating the woman who had offered him freedom with the drudge who had shoved a tray into his cell.
More importantly, he couldn’t reconcile either image with the girl now reaching out to him.
As he thought about it, Sokka realized he was in no position to rationally evaluate his position regarding Ling-Ling and the future.
Fuck! This was a first! Sokka was superbly rational. Even in prison he’d seen himself as competent to function. He’d hated being caught by the Fire Nation; had assumed he’d die there and, even then, started looking for opportunities to escape. With a appearance of the Fire Nation prince he had allowed his goal to be temporarily sidetracked. In time, he’d seen Zuko’s incarceration with him as an opportunity, something oddly fated to the young man who didn’t believe in fate.
But NOTHING in Sokka’s experience had ever suggested that fate could ever be reconciled. In short, Sokka believed Ling-Ling was already damned. Nothing he could do could change that.
Then again…
Hadn’t Zuko himself appeared somehow worthy of redemption?
Hadn’t Ling-Ling herself had some part to play in the prince’s redemption?
And who was Sokka to judge the fates of others? Hell, he KNEW he’d been a bit of an ass on more than one occasion. And perhaps the spirits didn’t look so kindly on bloodshed - ah gods, he had had opportunity to shed rather a lot of it, and he was still hardly more than a man…
Well, yes. There it was. He had to act as a man, and what did that call for now? A girl, without protectors, was in need of help. That was simple enough, stripped away of her nationality, now, wasn’t it? Sokka chuckled. He strongly suspected that this simple process of rationalization was the final road to madness, along which far too many had trod to bear any particular witness one way or another. Still, there it was. No obvious escape, as far as he could see…
Sokka turned around, facing Ling-Ling and the collection of food-stuffs he’d garnered from the secondary market.
“What do you think? The stew smelled pretty good to me and, damn, some of that fruit is at the height of its ripeness, give a day or two. Don’t you think? I mean, it all looks pretty good to me, so you eat what you want, and I’ll just take what you don’t want. Okay? Sound good to you…?”
Ling-Ling had eaten without hesitation
Not that his current situation offered any opportunities to Sokka. He grimaced as he considered how Ling-Ling would have appreciated any such effort. It was obvious that Ling-Ling was a creature of caprice, only just learning how far fetched the world was to conforming to the world of the Fire Nation prison.
For all his cleverness, Sokka was actually a fairly straightforward person. He was perfectly willing to assume all manner of deviousness in battle with the Fire Nation. As a result, he trusted virtually no one he came across if they weren’t a member of the Water Tribe without good reason. Hell, he was ready to look askance at King Bumi on the least provocation.
But he trusted Ling-Ling.
Or, at least he trusted her enough to lay his own neck on the line for her. It seemed little enough, given that she’d done as much for him, with honestly no reason beyond some absurd infatuation with the Fire Prince that he could, in theory, have betrayed.
Sokka thought rather well of himself, perhaps too well. But he wasn’t stupid. It was one thing for a Water Tribe princess to become infatuated with him - he’d worked hard to woo her and hell, he’d swear he’d loved her as well!
It was a far different thing for a Fire Nation girl to indicate any particular interest in him. Especially one who’d already more than demonstrated a preference for Zuko. And while both boys had noticed Ling-Ling’s overtures to him in those last days in the prison, neither of them had been able to determine her purpose in doing so.
He had gained a distinct impression that she was prepared to resume those overtures, their paths having crossed again. He pretended to be oblivious to that aspect of their interaction, but it was this awareness that had him second-guessing his own motives as well. He hated to think he’d become such an arrogant ass as to believe he could, or should, use charm when ordinary appeals to good nature and common decency should prevail. Especially when he had no intent on seeing through any implied promises the use of such charm might make.
With Ling-Ling he’d presented himself as an opportunist back then. It had fit with a plan to balance out her interest in and fear for the fortunes of his fellow prisoner, Zuko.
Zuko had said this hint of danger had attracted Ling-Ling at least as much as his own romantic image as the exiled prince. Sokka had begun to suspect that this had been a particularly astute observation of Zuko’s, and had been immensely relieved when their escape had apparently relieved him of any further need to deal with Ling-Ling.
Yet here he was with the dilemma that was Ling-Ling presented anew.
One element of his brain trusted her, based on their previous history. Perhaps because of that previous history, something about the way she had reached out to him didn’t quite fit. Just what was she trying to do, anyway?
On one level, it was a stupid question. After all, hadn’t he and Zuko figured out themselves that Ling-Ling was a risk-taker? As such, with the absence of Zuko - her preferred target - in reach, was it really remarkable that she should consider Sokka as an alternative?
If he were willing to consider it, the possibility was, in fact, obvious. Upon which Sokka became immediately embarrassed. No young man enjoyed thinking of himself as second choice, and even before they had escaped from prison Ling-Ling had made it clear that she had, at least, started considering Sokka as a successor to her affections regarding Zuko. He cringed. For lack of her preferred target, she was looking to him?
Well, now wasn't that just delightful.
Then again. It wasn't so awful. I mean. This was Ling-Ling. Delightful, dog-faced Ling-Ling! Yeah, right! Sokka sighed and felt his psyche relax. He didn't give a damn about what Ling-Ling thought about him, so none of this even mattered!
So why was it that Sokka felt just a bit, what? Forlorn, even as the two of them made themselves comfortable against the few hours of darkness while they waited for an opportunity to steal down to the water's edge.
Chapter 3
It was easy enough to slip into Sokka’s usual guise of semi-apolitical traveler, stocking up on supplies as he walked the secondary, less frequented market on the far side of this small port city. Second nature took over as he casually queried the vendors about rumors of Fire Nation movements and community sentiment. As he found his earlier data expanded upon and subtly shifted in perspective he found himself grudgingly grateful for Ling-Ling’s having forced him into exploring something other than the main market for supplies and information.
A very small-town boy himself, he’d half-forgotten some of the lessons of the last year’s trek across the world. Such as how the larger a population, the greater the likelihood was that information would flow across it in different currents and eddies. Only a fool would think the flow of the river would be confined to its main stem.
And a mighty course like that rising along the walls within which he and Ling-Ling had found refuge would undoubtedly breed as many currents of opinion as it did branches along the delta.
A tiny voice suggested to Sokka that he had been looking for an excuse to delay his return to Aang and the others.
He prided himself on being unfailingly honest with, at least himself, in the assessments he made without other’s knowledge. So, he deliberately considered Ling-Ling’s admittedly few physical graces, weighed them against what he was quite prepared to concede were formidable mental assets, and assessed his own response to her.
The end result? At this point in time, given his belief in her still lingering obsession with Prince Zuko, he thought he was reasonably safe to allot some limited time to assuring her safety. No doubt she intrigued him, and that was an admitted attraction, but it was certainly not enough to cloud his mind against his responsibilities. Especially since he was still pretty sure that no amount of animation or generosity could make up for Ling-Ling’s severely plain features.
For a mere fraction of a second, his mind lingered again on Zuko’s oblique comment, all those weeks ago, regarding Ling-Ling’s possessing “qualities” as he envisioned what those ill-fitting robes of hers might have concealed… before he aborted that line of thinking with a harsh laugh. He’d always suspected the prince of using that comment to somehow compensate for what he’d suspected and even accused as Sokka’s setting him up as the fall guy in that absurd reverse-seduction that resulted in their mutual escape.
He’d had nothing to argue against that particular line of thinking. In their weeks together after their escape Zuko had never directly mentioned Ling-Ling again. Well, but maybe he had alluded to it, once or twice, in general harangues against Sokka’s manipulativeness along the way… Sokka had shrugged that particular possibility off when he’d parted from the prince.
As he surrendered hard-won coin to the remaining vendors of cooked meats and ready-prepared vegetables, he noted those calling for labor to generate the next morning’s offerings. It was, by now, habit on his part. It never hurt to have a bolt-hole established in the way of such easy camouflage. Granted, they were looking for laborers willing to work the pre-sunrise shift unloading shipboard holds and farmers’ carts; Sokka’s least favorite shift. Ah well, he’d done worse. And while he still assumed he’d be long-gone by the time such labor was called upon, it was helpful to know he could count on being relatively invisible by virtue of being able to blend in if he found some need to stay.
Having already excused himself, Sokka ignored his reasons for noting the availability of work - and cover - for staying beyond his self-imposed twenty-four hour limit in the city.
Ling-Ling reminded him of his odd allegiance to the Fire Prince. Worse, she reminded him of a debt to another native of the Fire Nation that he had not, well, ever really intended at the outset to repay. He wanted to believe that pulling her from potential spotlight by the Earth Kingdom was sufficient recompense for her allowing him to escape her father’s prison along with her lover, Prince Zuko.
Sokka hated being duty-bound to someone from the Fire Nation (As he considered it, his scowl dropped the price of the near-day-old flatbread in half yet again with his current vendor). He had enough of that in his confused relationship with Zuko. And from that relationship he’d learned that unhinging oneself from such duty-debts with the Fire Nation was anything but straight-forward.
Great.
For his own peace of mind, if would be best to not even worry about Ling-Ling’s perception of these things. As he bought sweet melon to supplement a fish stew, arguing about this vendor’s luck in finding a buyer for fruit that would be disdained by the morning’s buyers, he clamped down on his too active imagination. At least, where it came to Ling-Ling.
As he shopped, Sokka attempted to concentrate on his usual assessment of Aang’s position in the local situation. This had largely agreed with the opinion given in the main market, which was reassuring.
He also caught an interesting current hitherto unheard in the Earth Kingdom regarding another player in the world’s affairs. One only tangentially related to Aang.
Sokka habitually ignored much of what he heard regarding the Avatar’s companions on these excursions. He’d learned some time ago it was generally hard on his ego. Toph’s power and Katara’s virtuosity, when combined with Aang’s brilliance, left little scope for his own cleverness as far as public relations went. After all, who cared how carefully chosen the canyon site for the convenient rock fall or opportune flood that somehow managed to avoid all damage to other than Fire Nation assets? And generals or captains were even less inclined to share credit for a well-conceived hit than his friends.
So he almost overlooked attributions regarding a few acts of sabotage that he knew full well were his own until tugged by the odd note of surprise and excitement disengaged from the Avatar. Nonetheless, he was at least as tickled by the apparent source of each strike against the Fire Lord as if it had been attributed to Aang or his companions.
After his period of incarceration with Prince Zuko, Sokka had found a new actor for title billing in some of his more carefully-wrought plans. If Sokka now and then left some indication of the Fire Prince’s presence in some particularly spectacular act of sabotage he’d managed to pull off, well, it wasn’t as if the prince was around himself to deny blame, or, for that matter, credit. Sokka was quite sure that only good could come of dividing Fire Nation loyalties.
And how conveniently the leadership of that nation had delineated itself. Maybe it wasn’t the good, the bad, and the ugly - he’d never heard tale regarding the Fire Lord’s looks, and he was honestly hard-pressed to call Zuko actually ‘good’, but still…
Now he smirked in consideration of those weeks in which he’d learned key elements of the prince’s personality that could, so easily, color any particular act with a signature likely to be attributed to the Fire Prince. Granted, Zuko would almost certainly have gutted him upon discovery of such a deliberate perversion of his reputation. But Sokka reassured himself that all was fair in war, and took particular care to leave Zuko’s imprint on only a few of the most obviously high-minded of his own escapades and, probably more importantly from the prince’s perspective, those that involved no Fire Nation deaths. He tried to tell himself he owed nothing to the young man he’d spent scant weeks with across a wall of bars, but his soul knew better.
After all, in the time that Zuko had tracked them across the world, he’d never actually threatened them with death. And in their time together in prison and afterwards, he’d extended himself to aid Sokka, no questions asked. That was that. So, Sokka had, from time to time, imprinted some act of sabotage against the Fire Nation with Zuko’s name. But never unless he could first convince himself that at least some element of the Fire Nation would applaud such action. And every time he did so, he tried to leave some signal reminding Zuko, if no one else, of the Forty-first, that single act of heroism that had first tied their fates together by sending the young prince in exile and in search of the Avatar. It was his own attempt to communicate with Zuko in a means he hoped the other boy would understand and, perhaps, forgive.
So he hadn’t been entirely straightforward with Ling-Ling. He’d not actually managed to set Zuko to act against his father. He didn’t in fact hope that such a thing was possible. He almost, oddly enough, rather hoped it was not. But he was quite prepared to use Zuko to help instigate the fall of his nation’s government.
Over time, Sokka’s own perspective regarding right and wrong, love and hate, had evolved. In his time with the Fire Nation prince, he’d developed a terrible sympathy for his companion’s situation, completely at odds with his own morality and yet still strangely in sympathy. As he had attempted to reassure Ling-Ling as to Zuko’s current prospects he’d been unusually honest; he truly believed that Zuko wished nothing more than to disappear into simple obedience to duty. And he also equally understood how striking the contrast lay between what he must inexorably see as the differing paths duty required of the Fire Prince.
“Damned glad I’m not him,” Sokka mused to himself. “Can’t imagine what it must feel like to have your loyalties torn. Bad enough having to play good guy, all innocent and above board, most of the time, and still stick it to the Fire Nation in these, well, other ways that nobody ever knows about…”
His shopping finally finished, Sokka shouldered his bag to conceal the shudder his inner thoughts engendered.
He admitted to himself that he’d half hoped Ling-Ling would be long gone when he returned to their hidey-hole along the city wall. Granted, some of that may have been related to the somewhat limited extent of his provisions for the evening’s fare. Sokka had far too much experience at food deprivation to welcome shortcomings to his dinner plate in any case.
Still, there was something reassuring about the dull mop of Ling-Ling’s hair protruding from the shadows of the wall’s curve. There had been something very unsatisfying in the way they had left her behind in the prison. Oh yes, it had been a huge relief - neither of them understood her in the least, and the apparent ease with which she’d seemed to express interest in both of them at the same time had left Zuko and Sokka wholly undone. Neither boy could explain it with anything in their experience or understanding, and it left both of them with their skin crawling.
But for Sokka, it had also left him intrigued.
He was, he would have admitted to any who’d posed the question, somewhat unusual. He envisioned for himself a simple, linear chain of affection and loyalty connecting himself to a future wife. At the same time, for all his lack of experience or observation otherwise, Sokka’s imagination easily created other, more convoluted possibilities. And Ling-Ling had given Sokka what he suspected was his first concrete example of someone who had explored some of those different avenues.
It was the scientist, the anthropologist, in Sokka who wanted to reach out to Ling-Ling, side by side with the penitent seeking forgiveness for the wrongs he’d done to her, who brought forth a crooked grin to greet the equally crooked smile of welcome from the Fire Nation girl huddled against the barrier of the Earth Kingdom city’s stone wall.
“Well then, you’re still here. Did you think to keep your head up for hawkers selling something to eat?” he asked, confident in his own experience. “Thought not. Wouldn’t be many along here anyway, so you’d have to take what you could get unless you were willing to venture away from the wall.”
Ling-Ling rolled her eyes. “You told me you were going for food, whether I stayed or not. Seemed to me I was best served waiting to see what you’d come up with. Odds are I’ll be lucky to make it back across the river to Fire Nation territory before morning anyway.”
“Let’s see. Your dad must’ve kicked my ass for every couple bites I ate in that damned prison. I’m thinking you still owe me even after helping me out of that hell-hole.” It was a reach. He was curious as to her response, and had no intention of attempting to defend his assertion.
When a harsh blush bloomed across her features, Sokka felt guilty, biting his cheek in chagrin.
“Ah, so you really are a blackmailer,” Ling-Ling breathed, relief apparent in her voice as her color returned to normal.
“Damnit! I am not! Oh fuckit! Whatever, why should I care what Fire Nation thinks anyway!” And Sokka pulled out of his pack and carryall his garnerings for their evening meal. At this point, he could see no way of presenting it to her without appearing to be attempting to buy something from her, either future silence or current submission. Neither was acceptable. With an expression of annoyance he dumped it all on the bench and strode away to look out at the broad river, back to both girl and food.
That’s a first, he thought to himself. Since when did I turn my back to food? Or, come to think of it, to a threat?
Almost reluctantly, Sokka looked over his shoulder at Ling-Ling.
Who had, very obligingly, kneeled in the dirt before the bench on which he’d laid his offerings for their evening meal, one hand partially outstretched to explore the various wrappings on the tea, rice, stew, fruit, etc. that he’d collected.
He shuddered. His sister would have slugged him, hard, for implying that he’d accomplished anything other than the minimum expected in his provisions. They would then both have laughed heartily, thankful for even a mouthful. But that was based on experience and a lifetime together. Somehow it rankled to see this alien girl on her knees giving the appearance of thankfulness for whatever he’d provided. Maybe it had to do with the juxtaposition in his mind of her hand on the tray of slop the prison had offered as food as it waited to execute him. Somehow, his mind had a hard time equating the woman who had offered him freedom with the drudge who had shoved a tray into his cell.
More importantly, he couldn’t reconcile either image with the girl now reaching out to him.
As he thought about it, Sokka realized he was in no position to rationally evaluate his position regarding Ling-Ling and the future.
Fuck! This was a first! Sokka was superbly rational. Even in prison he’d seen himself as competent to function. He’d hated being caught by the Fire Nation; had assumed he’d die there and, even then, started looking for opportunities to escape. With a appearance of the Fire Nation prince he had allowed his goal to be temporarily sidetracked. In time, he’d seen Zuko’s incarceration with him as an opportunity, something oddly fated to the young man who didn’t believe in fate.
But NOTHING in Sokka’s experience had ever suggested that fate could ever be reconciled. In short, Sokka believed Ling-Ling was already damned. Nothing he could do could change that.
Then again…
Hadn’t Zuko himself appeared somehow worthy of redemption?
Hadn’t Ling-Ling herself had some part to play in the prince’s redemption?
And who was Sokka to judge the fates of others? Hell, he KNEW he’d been a bit of an ass on more than one occasion. And perhaps the spirits didn’t look so kindly on bloodshed - ah gods, he had had opportunity to shed rather a lot of it, and he was still hardly more than a man…
Well, yes. There it was. He had to act as a man, and what did that call for now? A girl, without protectors, was in need of help. That was simple enough, stripped away of her nationality, now, wasn’t it? Sokka chuckled. He strongly suspected that this simple process of rationalization was the final road to madness, along which far too many had trod to bear any particular witness one way or another. Still, there it was. No obvious escape, as far as he could see…
Sokka turned around, facing Ling-Ling and the collection of food-stuffs he’d garnered from the secondary market.
“What do you think? The stew smelled pretty good to me and, damn, some of that fruit is at the height of its ripeness, give a day or two. Don’t you think? I mean, it all looks pretty good to me, so you eat what you want, and I’ll just take what you don’t want. Okay? Sound good to you…?”
Ling-Ling had eaten without hesitation
Not that his current situation offered any opportunities to Sokka. He grimaced as he considered how Ling-Ling would have appreciated any such effort. It was obvious that Ling-Ling was a creature of caprice, only just learning how far fetched the world was to conforming to the world of the Fire Nation prison.
For all his cleverness, Sokka was actually a fairly straightforward person. He was perfectly willing to assume all manner of deviousness in battle with the Fire Nation. As a result, he trusted virtually no one he came across if they weren’t a member of the Water Tribe without good reason. Hell, he was ready to look askance at King Bumi on the least provocation.
But he trusted Ling-Ling.
Or, at least he trusted her enough to lay his own neck on the line for her. It seemed little enough, given that she’d done as much for him, with honestly no reason beyond some absurd infatuation with the Fire Prince that he could, in theory, have betrayed.
Sokka thought rather well of himself, perhaps too well. But he wasn’t stupid. It was one thing for a Water Tribe princess to become infatuated with him - he’d worked hard to woo her and hell, he’d swear he’d loved her as well!
It was a far different thing for a Fire Nation girl to indicate any particular interest in him. Especially one who’d already more than demonstrated a preference for Zuko. And while both boys had noticed Ling-Ling’s overtures to him in those last days in the prison, neither of them had been able to determine her purpose in doing so.
He had gained a distinct impression that she was prepared to resume those overtures, their paths having crossed again. He pretended to be oblivious to that aspect of their interaction, but it was this awareness that had him second-guessing his own motives as well. He hated to think he’d become such an arrogant ass as to believe he could, or should, use charm when ordinary appeals to good nature and common decency should prevail. Especially when he had no intent on seeing through any implied promises the use of such charm might make.
With Ling-Ling he’d presented himself as an opportunist back then. It had fit with a plan to balance out her interest in and fear for the fortunes of his fellow prisoner, Zuko.
Zuko had said this hint of danger had attracted Ling-Ling at least as much as his own romantic image as the exiled prince. Sokka had begun to suspect that this had been a particularly astute observation of Zuko’s, and had been immensely relieved when their escape had apparently relieved him of any further need to deal with Ling-Ling.
Yet here he was with the dilemma that was Ling-Ling presented anew.
One element of his brain trusted her, based on their previous history. Perhaps because of that previous history, something about the way she had reached out to him didn’t quite fit. Just what was she trying to do, anyway?
On one level, it was a stupid question. After all, hadn’t he and Zuko figured out themselves that Ling-Ling was a risk-taker? As such, with the absence of Zuko - her preferred target - in reach, was it really remarkable that she should consider Sokka as an alternative?
If he were willing to consider it, the possibility was, in fact, obvious. Upon which Sokka became immediately embarrassed. No young man enjoyed thinking of himself as second choice, and even before they had escaped from prison Ling-Ling had made it clear that she had, at least, started considering Sokka as a successor to her affections regarding Zuko. He cringed. For lack of her preferred target, she was looking to him?
Well, now wasn't that just delightful.
Then again. It wasn't so awful. I mean. This was Ling-Ling. Delightful, dog-faced Ling-Ling! Yeah, right! Sokka sighed and felt his psyche relax. He didn't give a damn about what Ling-Ling thought about him, so none of this even mattered!
So why was it that Sokka felt just a bit, what? Forlorn, even as the two of them made themselves comfortable against the few hours of darkness while they waited for an opportunity to steal down to the water's edge.