Tokka: Ambushed

"I don't think it's a good idea, Toph. He's… He's still in shock."

So that's what Katara's been telling everyone to keep them away. It figures. It wasn't like she would ever be honest about something as tragically pathetic as this.

It's not like she can admit that I am in no mood to see anyone, to talk to anyone, to deal with anyone's sympathy. Rage I never knew I had pulses through the veins in my forehead. I squeeze my fists, open them, squeeze them again, reveling in the distracting twinge of pain from my sprained wrist.

If I let the more immediate, flaring pain fade, the other pain would take over. The dull ache from my legs is bad enough without bringing with it the constant, shocking realization that I will never again be able to…

I can't even think about it. I won't.

"It's been a week, Katara. You have to let me back there. I have to see him."

"He… doesn't want to talk to you," Katara admits, her voice falling.

"He doesn't want to talk to me?" Toph's incredulity almost masks the true nature of her question. She's hurt. She thinks I'm avoiding her, specifically.

Maybe I am.

"He doesn't want to talk to anyone," Katara says, almost whispering.

Do they think I can't hear them? Or do they think I'll overhear and change my mind? Is this Katara trying to guilt me into behaving like a good little cripple? Am I just supposed to smile and joke and take all their useless words of comfort to heart and pretend I'm okay?

Where were they when we got ambushed? Where was my powerful Waterbending Master of a sister? Where was His Spiritual Mightiness, the Master of All Elements?

Where was the Greatest Earthbender In The World when the explosions ripped apart my life?

I look for something to throw at the door to vent my rage, but Katara has cleverly removed everything from my reach. But I'll show her I'm not helpless. She left a water pitcher on the stupid, super fancy, Fire Nation nightstand.

Oh, His Royal Hotstuff spared no expense on my behalf. I'd already shredded a set of bed sheets I suspect could have been sold for a small fortune. No. No expense spared, but no effort made beyond that. At least everyone else has come and attempted to offer their condolences. But Fire Lord Zuko can't spare the five minutes it would take to walk to the guest quarters of his own palace.

I get it. Zuko's a busy man, busy busy busy. He has things to do that don't involve catering to the whims of an invalid. From the little news Katara has told me, the palace is in an uproar over the attack. I couldn't care less.

I suspect Zuko's mostly just afraid to face me. Afraid to see what's left. Maybe it hits him a little too close to home?

As if a bit of bad skin could ever compare.

I stretch, I twist, I grit my teeth as every muscle in my maimed body complains. My fingers brush against the ceramic jug. Somebody wasted a lot of time painting a beautiful landscape onto the container. Somebody paid a lot of money for something that's about to become worthless.

Worthless like a warrior with no feet.

My growl turns to a roar as I push the last few inches. I can't get a grip and the pitcher falls to the floor, shattering and spilling its contents into the expensive carpet. Operation Break Stuff is a success, though perhaps I should have thought harder about exactly what was going to happen when I leaned that far out of bed.

I try to catch myself on reflex and manage to get my sprained wrist under me just in time to crumple down on top of it. Wrist buckles, shoulder hits, followed by a jarring jolt to the already bruised side of my head. But the worst comes when my legs slither after, unstoppable, ungainly, wrong.

They hit the floor and everything turns to white light. I gasp for breath, like a fish out of water, as the ceiling swims back into focus.

Insult meets injury and invites humiliation to the party a moment later when Katara throws the door open.

"Sokka!"  

Katara rushes forward. Toph hangs back. I cradle my throbbing wrist and secretly hope I managed to break it, just to have something new to focus on.

Katara spots the shattered jug. "Were you thirsty?" She's so concerned, it makes me want to throw up. "I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have left you alone."

I growl some kind of response. It's blissfully hard to think past the pain.

"Let me see that," she says and takes my freshly injured limb like I'm some kind of wounded puppy. She tisks and rotates my wrist, which hurts pleasantly. "Don't worry, looks like nothing's broken."

I grunt. She interprets that to mean relief.

"Toph, can you give me a hand getting him back in bed?"

Toph and I both freeze.

"No." My voice. I'm as surprised as they are to hear it. Katara blinks and looks from me to Toph, though the eye contact means nothing to the young blind woman. She's still standing there, still as stone.  

"Sokka, I… I can't get you into bed alone." Katara's ashamed and apologetic. It's been too easy to guilt her into things.

"I said, no," I reply, more force than anyone expects from a cripple. The red, satin sheets are pooled around my legs and I fumble with them, pretending I have some dignity left to maintain.

"Sokka, please. Let us help you."

I sit up and grab the mattress, but I have no leverage and no strength. I contemplate getting onto my knees, but the pain would pass beyond my new threshold, into the realm of white agony that I have no desire to visit again so soon. And she's still standing there, watching me with a sight more penetrating than her milky green eyes ever could have managed alone.

I can't look at her. "Get out of here." There's a softness to my words that I don't think I intended. Angry at myself, I try again, flipping my good hand dismissively in her direction. "Go! Get out!"

My words spur her to action. Just not the action I expected. She stalks into the room, more imposing than her small frame can justify. She moves with her own kind of confident grace, solid and powerful, like she doesn't care what anyone thinks about her.

But for some reason, she cares what I think.

Late night confessions stream into my head and I try to forget the things she said, the things I said. It feels like a lifetime ago. It feels like someone else's life, which makes sense. Two weeks ago I was a different man.

Toph sits on her heels and levels her unseeing eyes with mine. "Katara, do you think you could give us a minute or two?"

"Uh, sure, I guess." My sister looks to me, sudden doubt on her face. "If… if that's okay?"

I can't unclench my jaw, but Katara takes my silence for consent. She gets up, looks awkwardly between us, and finally turns and leaves, closing the heavy door behind her.

Silence prevails. Toph's wrong if she thinks I'm going to break it. I've broken enough things today. Minutes pass and the pain is creeping up my legs into my back, but Toph hasn't moved, hasn't said a word, and neither will I. But even with the bed to lean against, I doubt I'll be able to stay sitting for much longer. It's a battle of attrition, and she knows I'll lose.

I won't go down without a fight. I grit my teeth and wrap my fingers in the silken bed cover, hanging on to my pride by its last, frayed thread. Breaking our stalemate is tantamount to admitting defeat.

And then for some reason, she makes the first move.

She lifts her hand toward me, slowly, carefully, like she's trying not to spook a wild animal and I suppose that's not far from the truth. I can't help but flinch. Can't help but shy away from those fingers that are somehow calloused and soft, strong but gentle.

Her hand finds the top of my head and rests there a moment. The contact is foreign and sends a chill down my spine. I haven't let anyone but Katara touch me since arriving at the Fire Nation palace. Not since I woke up and really realized what had happened…

She brushes her finger tips through my messy wolf tail and I'm not sure if I want her to stop. Her hand slides down the side of my face, but I can't take the more intimate touch. I turn my head, slipping away from her.

She huffs and her bangs dance on the air before settling back down. And then without warning, she leans in and slips her deceptively powerful arms under me.

"What're you…!?" My words choke off as she lifts me like a child. I used to be twice her size, and my shoulders and chest are still broad and thick compared to her, but all my apparent strength means nothing in her grip. "Put me down," I say, not recognizing the panic in my voice. I push against her, struggling in vain like a baby saber-toothed mooselion caught in its mother's jaws. "Toph!!"

My words devolve into guttural grunts and gravel filled growls as I fight, but her arms are locked around me like steel beams, and she clamps her head against mine, pinning me against her shoulder.  "Shhhhh," she says, swaying slightly, like a boat on the sea.

Trapped, my heart beats louder and faster and I let out one last pleading whimper, muffled into her shirt.

"It's okay, Sokka," she says, her voice soft and soothing. I can feel it vibrating in her throat and chest. "Just relax. I've got you."

And for better or worse, it's true. Helplessness saps my energy and my will to fight. My body is weak and I'm exhausted and sore from my little adventure. I feel the tension leak from my shoulders and arms as my ragged breathing slows and steadies.

She holds me until I'm limp in her arms and then she carefully lays me out on my bed. She fixes my covers without a word, and somehow I know she isn't 'looking' at how my lower legs end abruptly, at how the sheets lie flat where there should be feet.

Even Katara can't help but look, sometimes. I catch her eyes drifting when she's supposed to be helping me. I haven't even been able to lift my head because I know what I'm going to see, and I don't know what the sight will do to me.

Toph surprises me, yet again, by plopping down heavily on the bed beside me. She laughs at the ripple that runs through the mattress. It's the first laugh I've heard in this room.

"Boy, say what you want about the Fire Nation, but they sure know how to make a bed." She sprawls out, crossing one foot over the other and tucking a hand behind her head. "Maybe I'll just have to get myself on the injured list so I can lounge around in one, eh?" She nudges me with her free hand, just like old times, and I forget to breathe. I'm frozen in place, like a big dumb block of ice, and I can't tell how mad I am at her for implying that this is all just some sort of vacation for me.

I stare sidelong at her, and I'm pretty sure the look is sharp enough to cut even her.

"So do you get room service in here, or what?"

She knows very well that Katara's the only one who's been in my room, though I suspect the palace staff might sneak in from time to time while I'm asleep. I kind of hope it's true. It's bad enough I've forced Katara to take care of me alone, without her having to do all the cleaning too.

"You know what's annoying?"

Tiny earthbenders? I'm so tempted to say it, but I can't give her the satisfaction of getting a conversation out of me. Not after she manhandled and tossed me around like a bag of blubbered seal jerky.

"Nobody really understands the limitations of my earthbending sight. Like, take right now, for instance. I can't just look at you and guess what you're thinking or feeling. That's something that you seeing people take for granted."

My nostrils flare, but I remain silent.  She's dancing around a frozen lake, and if she takes one step out onto it, the ice is going to crack and I don't think she's going to like what she finds underneath.

"There was so much that passed between you and Katara that I just couldn't be a part of." She doesn't say "after the attack" but I know what she's talking about. I'd been delirious and out of my mind with pain, but I still remember yelling and howling at everyone. "She knew what you needed," Toph continues, "when you needed it, and when she told me to go, I thought that's what you really needed, too."

That trapped feeling is back. I lick my lips, trying to get moisture in my suddenly dry mouth.

"But I get it now. That's not what you needed, it's what you wanted. You didn't want anybody to see you like that." She sits up and crosses her legs, facing towards me, and I can hear my own heart, hammering away at my ribcage. Her brash exterior slips, ever so slightly. "You don't want anyone to see you like this, either."

I look away. I'm not sure why. It's not like it's hard to meet a blind girl's gaze. It's not like she can see the truth of her words in my eyes.

I'd roll over, if I could. It's funny, the things you take for granted when you're whole.

"But I'm not everyone, Sokka. And technically," she says, hazarding a tentative grin, "I can't even see you."

I exhale, realizing I've been holding my breath since she started talking. There are words forming on my tongue and she leans forward, expectant and hopeful. But there's no hope allowed in this room.

"What do you want from me?" The words are cold, like, South Pole in the dead of winter, cold. Like, two children trapped out in the middle of an ocean of icebergs, cold. I've discovered so many things about myself that I never knew. I can be quite the jerk. A jerkbender extraordinaire, if you will. I finally found my element.

And then she hits me, hard, in the shoulder. She jumps off the bed so she can stomp and flail to her heart's content, and I can't help but watch her while I squeeze my already bruising flesh.

"What do I want!? What do I want from you!? Why would you even say something like that? Are you that messed up right now that you can't figure out why I want to talk to my best friend?" She falters, stops her rampage, and a light blush creeps onto her face. "I… I need you."

I laugh. It is, perhaps, the cruelest thing I've ever done. "You need me?"

"Yes." Her expression hardens and I know I'm starting to get to her. Toph only likes to think she's invincible, but I know her better than anyone.

"Wake up, Toph," I spit. "It's time to stop pretending we're a couple of kids gallivanting across the countryside, saving the world together." The words tumble like an avalanche out of my mouth and I couldn't stop them if I wanted to. "It's over. That life is finished. Time for you to move on."

She straightens up and folds her arms, looking as serious as an outbreak of penta-pox in a Fire Nation colony. "And what about you?" Something glints in her milky eyes and she smirks like a tiger shark. "You planning on moving on, too?" My throat constricts. "Planning on taking that next step in your life? Think you can hit the ground running and all that?"

I can't breathe. I can't even think straight.

"Oh, so you can dish it out, but you can't take it?" She is in full mocking mode and my brain is still reeling with her audacity. "What, did you think you're the only person on the planet that can be a jerk for no reason?"

"No reason!?" I sputter and grip my sheets until I feel the fabric strain. I want to wave the sawed off stumps in her face and force their hideous sight past her blind eyes. I want to make her touch the thick wads of bandages that still have to be changed every day, even with all of Katara's healing powers at work. I want her to know how I wake up every morning and forget I don't have feet, because I can still feel them, throbbing away with phantom pain.

I want Toph to understand how utterly and completely my life has been ruined. The sheets start to tear in my hands, but Toph is unmoved by my obvious outrage.

She pops her knuckles, looking bored. "I never took you for a quitter, Sokka."

Because there is nothing else I can do, I throw my pillow at her with a battle cry that used to strike fear into the hearts of my enemies. She sidesteps lazily, not even giving me the satisfaction of what would have been an entirely ineffectual blow.

"What, are you five?" She laughs and I sit up and throw my other pillow with all the force I can muster, but I still can't hit her. "Hey, not bad. Keep this up and maybe you'll be ready for Pillow Rumble Seven Thousand."

I'm out of ammo and panting like a madman. I contemplate lunging for her, but I'd never make the distance. Where is Boomerang when I need it?

"Use your words, like a big boy." She's talking to me like I'm a toddler throwing a temper tantrum, but there is a genuine smile on her face that is one part infuriating and one part endearing.

"I'm not a quitter!" I roar.

"Wallowing around in self-pity and being a whiny, self-centered jerk seems like quitting to me."

"I'm not…!" I can't even finish the sentence without breaking into another inarticulate roar of pure frustration and rage. Her name is buried somewhere in the noise.

"That's it," she says, eager. "Let all that anger out." She takes a step forward, into my range, and spreads her hands. "You want to hit someone, Sokka? I'll give you a free shot, right here." She turns her head, offering me her cheek, and I recognize this for what it is. She feels guilt, justified or not. I didn't notice how tired she looked, before. I didn't see how miserable this whole thing has made her. She's already been beating herself up worse than anything I could ever do to her.

My fists clench and my muscles coil in anticipation, but despite the satisfaction I would get from watching Toph pick herself back up off the floor, I suddenly have no desire to do her more harm.

"I'm not quitting, Toph." I sound a bit like the old, rational me. The me that people used to actually listen to. I sigh and let the tension drain away, flopping back into the headboard of my bed with a solid thud. "I'm just being realistic."

"Nobody thinks you didn't get a bad deal, Sokka," Toph says, sincere and compassionate and just a little confused about why I spared her. She sits on the edge of my bed, back towards me. "I tried, but I can't even imagine what it would be like," she says, voice softening with emotion. "I'd be helpless, cut off from my element. Blind in every sense of the word." She shudders at the thought.

I let the silence stretch between us again, but the hostility is gone and I'm remembering quiet times alone with the most intriguing girl I've ever known. "It's a lot like that," I finally admit, and a weight lifts from my chest. "I mean, the helplessness and isolation, anyway."

"You don't have to feel isolated anymore," she says, still facing away, but she can't hide the telltale quaver in her voice. "I'm not going to let you push me away again."

I swallow a lump in my throat and look up at the canopy of my bed.  

"It's only fair, y'know. I've lost count of all the times I've had to cling to you for support," she says, making a valiant attempt to keep her voice steady. She's playing with her Space Earth bracelet, the only gift I've ever given her. "Once I left home, I never wanted to rely on anyone again. I tried to do so many things on my own that I just couldn't do. And then, somewhere along the way, you offered me your arm." She lifts her hands in a shrug of surrender. "And that was it." She turns around to offer me her roguish, Blind Bandit grin. "I guess you could say I was hooked."

Out of practice, and caught in an emotional moment, my laugh is somewhere between a bark and a snort, and a burst of mucus explodes over my lips and chin.

Toph raises her eyebrows. "Did you just…?"

My nose is loaded like a pair of torpedo bays, ready to fire again, and my embarrassed "yes" comes out sounding more like, "Ye'th."

"Here." With hesitation, Toph holds out her arm, offering me her sleeve. She doesn't even blink, doesn't even think twice, and definitely doesn't care that I am wiping snot all over her shirt. Because that's just the kind of girl she is.

"Thanks." I wipe ineffectually at her clothes, trying to diffuse the worst of it, and I realize two important things at the same time. The first, being, that I'm not just thanking her for letting me use her sleeve as a snot rag. The second realization is that my hand tingles each time I accidentally brush against her deceptively smooth skin. It's a spark I'd almost forgotten, and one I had only just discovered between the two of us.

I take my time and brush the back of my fingers down the length of her arm, enjoying the pleasant sensation. Toph shivers and I know she feels it too. "I mean, thank you." My voice goes thick and husky, and I recall more than a few women finding that attractive.

A decidedly Tophish smile spreads across her face. "Are you trying to seduce me?"

I remember feeling irresistible. "Maybe."

She laughs, easy and free. "Next time - and there had better be a next time - try it before you rub boogers all over me." She reaches over and pats my leg. The move is so natural, so automatic, that neither of us think about it until her hand makes contact.

I suck in a breath and she pulls her hand back like she touched a hot stove. I can see her kicking herself, mentally.

"Crud. I'm sorry, Sokka. I didn't mean…"

I shake my head. "No, you didn't hurt me. I just… forgot, for a moment…" Being with Toph had completely distracted me from my predicament and the pain, but I feel a new resolve burning in my chest. Slowly, cautiously, I pull back the sheets. For the first time, because I need to do it, I let my focus trail down my thighs, past my knees, to finally rest on the bandaged remnants of my lower legs. I try to remain objective, to think positive thoughts. To plan.

I exhale a shaky breath. "You know, it's not so bad, really," I say, ignoring how fragile my new optimism sounds. Toph's steady hand slides into mine, and I squeeze it like a lifeline. "Katara did a great job. All I really lost are my ankles and… my… my feet. That's… There's still a lot of… I could still…"

I can't continue.

"I'm thinking, boots," Toph says, plunging on ahead while I let silent tears trail down my cheeks. "Big, metal, clomping, clanking, stomping boots. Y'know? All springs and gears and spikes and stuff. The kind of boots that'll make Katara really flip out." She laughs and the sound is infectious.

I swallow my grief as well as I can and manage a chuckle. "It's not like I ever got the hang of Sneak Attacks anyway, right?"

"Exactly," she says, nodding. "If you can't sneak, you might as well let everyone hear you coming from a mile away so they have time to get really scared."

I'm grinning now, wiping away pesky eye moisture. "We'll call 'em my Sparky Sparky Boom Boots."

She snorts, thoroughly amused, and shakes her head in wonder. "Leave it to you to come up with a really dumb name for something so awesome."

"How about just, Boom Boots?" I offer, using my best sale's pitch voice. "Doom Boots? Spiky Doom Boots? Boots of Doom?" She's laughing, and it feels so good to make her happy. "I've got it, I'll call the left one Boom and the right one Doom, huh? Huh? Boom and Doom?"

She takes my hand in both of hers and smiles at me, radiant and just a little teasing. "How about we just call them… your feet?"

I put my free hand to my chin and pretend to give it some thought. "Nah, I like my idea better."

She tackles me then and tickles me to the mattress. Somehow in the mock wrestling match that ensues, she makes sure to avoid all the places that hurt without taking it easy on me, and though she could earthbend me into oblivion, we are mysteriously, utterly, and completely… equally matched.