Chapter Text
Jet is sitting at her kitchen table. His hands rest on the rough grain of the wood, crudely made by Bao when they had first arrived in Ba Sing Se. He’s laughing at something Lan said, eyes lighting up. He’s here, across from her, real. Not just a dream. Jin can hardly wrap her mind around it, not when she’s spent eight years missing her best friend.
Beside him sit two kids, one fourteen and silent, the other maybe a year or two younger, with a piercing gaze who carries an air of authority that Jin doesn’t want to cross. They’re Jet’s family now, the only ones he has left. Jin likes them. Longshot doesn’t need to speak to explain how he’s feeling, and Smellerbee has more sense than the two others combined. From what she’s gathered about the past eight years, they’ve kept Jet alive, and for that, she’ll be forever grateful. But the story they’re telling is full of holes. Jin wants to push, wants to understand just what happened to steal the light from Jet’s eyes, but there are some stories that are better kept uncovered. He’s not ready, and Jin understands that. But that doesn’t make it hurt any less.
“Jin?” Jet says, knocking her out of her reverie. She smiles, wide and so utterly false, and hopes he can’t tell. “Thank you.” His smile is genuine, and his eyes haven’t lost the twinkle from the laughter of a few moments ago. She doesn’t ask for what, but she can guess. What Jet has told her of his past hasn’t seemed peaceful- taking care of a group of ragtag children, staving the Fire Nation off their land, and travelling across large swathes of the Earth Kingdom- and this is the opposite. While her family isn’t perfect, they know exactly what it’s like to have to run from home. Jin knows acutely the pain that ashmakers perpetuate. It’s the least she can do to invite Jet and his friends into her home. And the smile that he’s giving her is reward enough.
Lan loudly asks Smellerbee about why she left her vigilante life for Ba Sing Se, and Jet stiffens. Smellerbee glances at him, eyes cautious, and doesn’t reply until she sees his small nod. “We realized we were doing more harm than good,” she says, turning towards Lan with a bitter smile. She’s so young to have that much sadness in her eyes. “And besides, the avatar may or may not have recommended it.”
“The avatar?” Lan gasps, eyes going as wide as saucers. Smellerbee laughs and tells him everything she knows about him, a young airbender. Jin wants to listen as well, to regain some hope that peace might eventually come. But Jet’s eyes, dark and burning, draw her away. He’s staring determinedly at the grain of the tabletop, absentmindedly holding his teacup. It’s all Jin can do to not drag him out of the room, to shake him until he tells her exactly what the avatar did to him to make him fade into his memories. But she won’t, because he deserves to tell her in his own time. His story is his own, and even with all the history they share, Jet owes her absolutely nothing. It still hurts, hurts because she doesn’t understand but longs to. Her life seems full of broken boys, whose sorrows and aches are far deeper than Jin knows.
This new Jet, with fire in his eyes and blades as sharp as his tongue, reminds her of Li. They know each other, though Li’s wariness towards her best friend is indication enough that they’re not close. But Jet likes him, and when Jin brought him up earlier, he seemed determined enough to become friends with him. Between the two of them, he’ll ease up a little. Hopefully she can help someone through their sorrows. Maybe it’ll help her with hers.
Jet looks up at her suddenly, eyes fixated on her face. “Does the avatar give you hope?” he asks, voice quiet. Jin swallows, not looking away. How she wants to, to not have to bear his scrutiny and intensity. But she owes him this much. And she knows the answer he needs to hear, to assuage the fear in his eyes.
“Yes.”
“He’s a good kid.” There’s fondness in his tone, fondness and sheer sorrow. He smiles at the table, expression utterly helpless. “He’ll end this war.”