Work Text:
Saying goodbye to Bato is like saying hello to a drowning. And losing Bato is like losing a lung.
For as long as he can remember, Hakoda’s life has been defined by loss. First to go was his brother, fighting a war on the other side of the world when Hakoda had only just reached the age of twelve. Heroic, everyone called it, as if that made it better that he’d lost his only sibling and been simultaneously thrust in line for a chieftainship that never should have been his. Too soon after was his father, who died defending the last ship in his fleet from a Fire Nation ambush. Hakoda’s mourning had been forced to live alongside the sensation of abject terror that settled in as he took over as chief at the far-too-young age of nineteen. He had counted himself lucky, then, to have someone as strong as Kya at his side. But too soon she, too was gone. Countless warriors have joined the pantheon of the lost as the Fire Nation has continued to deal unending damage to their tribe. Most recently it’s his children, who are still alive as far as Hakoda knows but who he misses as if they are dead all the same.
And now Bato. Hakoda has come to see him as the one constant in his life – the one North Star whose position by Hakoda’s side is absolutely unchangeable. Which is why even after all that loss, leaving Bato behind still makes it feel like the sky has gone black.
Hakoda regrets his decision the second he boards his ship.
My stars, he thinks as he stares over the waves and wishes Bato could somehow hear him.
I should have told you.
I should have told you.
I should have told you.
Nothing goes as planned.
It should take a day or two, maximum, to evade the Fire Nation fleet. Instead it takes two weeks, and by the time it finally looks like they’ve escaped, they’re well into the Earth Kingdom. Bato was wrong, Hakoda thinks, although he can’t find it in himself to be bitter. The minutes are many, and they pass slow as a glacier.
When it appears that the fleet is safe, Hakoda sends for his best cartographer. Together they draft a map with two routes, one by sea and one by land, to lead Bato directly to the spot they’ve chosen as a rendezvous point. It’s not the fastest route, but it’s the one that would be easiest for the injured man to traverse.
(And Hakoda prays to every spirit he knows that Bato’s still only injured.)
There’s a space left in the corner for Hakoda to write a message. There’s a morass of murky feelings weighing down Hakoda’s whole being, but it’s almost impossible to distill those feelings into words, and there’s nothing Hakoda wants to say that should be heard for the first time through black ink on a page. Instead, he keeps it simple.
Bato, he writes. I pray this map finds you and finds you well. We’ve finally reached somewhere safe where you’ll be able to heal in peace. Make the journey only when you’re able. Yours always, Koda.
They locate an Earth Kingdom messenger and pay him well to ride nonstop until he reaches the abbey and to make sure he puts the letter directly into Bato’s hands. Hakoda watches him go and hopes this means that Bato will be back in his orbit soon.
Nothing goes as planned.
Not even an hour passes before they’re under attack again, this time from Fire Nation forces on land. The Water Tribe fleet escapes by sea, but now there’s a map speeding toward Bato that will lead him directly into a Fire Nation trap.
If his death was a possibility before, Hakoda has ensured that it’s a virtual certainty now.
Two days go by before they’re docked again. Hakoda has another map hastily drawn up. He doesn’t have it in him to feign formalities in another letter, so he simply writes Bato: Come back to me. Hakoda.
So many moving parts must move just so if Bato is to find his way back to Hakoda. If there is any benevolence in the universe, Hakoda thinks as he looks up at the stars, let Bato be the one thing I don’t have to lose.
But deep down, Hakoda knows that searching for benevolence in the universe is like hunting for the Avatar after a hundred years of war: useless and disappointing.
Despite everything, Hakoda makes plans.
It’s the only way he can get his mind off of the agonizing wait. He plans for the flurries of exuberance that will settle over the fleet when Bato arrives at their encampment. He’s decided on every detail of that night. He’ll give the men the night off from their duties and throw a feast, rations be damned. They’ll sit around the campfire and tell Bato the stories of what he’s missed, and Bato will tell them all how he bounced back from his burns and made the heroic trek through the Earth Kingdom to find them. When the campfire burns down to embers, Hakoda will ask him for a private moment in the nearby wood, and pull him into a patch of moonlight. And there – under the moon and the stars – that’s where Hakoda will say I love you.
But as the wait stretches on, the disobedient cells of Hakoda’s mind begin to make other plans. He plans the speech he’ll give to the men when so much time has passed that they can’t justify waiting here any longer. He plans the letter he’ll write to the tribe, breaking the news that Bato was strong to the end and yet not strong enough in the end. He plans the words that he’ll carve in the wood of the canoe they’ll float into the sea in Bato’s honor during his bodiless funeral. And he plans on accepting the fact that he’ll never be able to take in more than half a breath ever again.
Hakoda makes plans. It’s all he can do to keep himself from going crazy.
(So much time passes that Hakoda starts to see Bato everywhere. He sees Bato in the faces of his men, in the shadows of the trees, in the reflection on the ocean. He starts to wonder if Bato’s spirit has already begun to haunt him.)
(So much time passes that they can't wait here any longer.)
It’s the fleet’s last night at the rendezvous point. Hakoda has swallowed his pain and delivered The Speech he hoped he’d never have to. They’ve waited as long as they can, but the war effort has to take precedence over the salvation of a single soldier. Even if that soldier is Bato, Hakoda swears to himself, but he still can’t find it in his heart to believe himself.
He’s in his quarters, now. He’s sitting at the bolted-down desk by his bed, surrounded by maps and communications that are supposed to be crucial intelligence but instead feel like cruel, neatly-written death sentences. He’s almost to the bottom of his third glass of rum and contemplating pouring a fourth.
“Sir.”
Hakoda recognizes the voice of one of the warriors assigned to the evening watch. He scowls down at his glass. “What is it?” he says hoarsely.
There isn’t another word, just the sound of feet moving through the doorway. Hakoda turns to send away whoever thought it was a good idea to interrupt him tonight –
He freezes.
Because standing in the doorway is Bato.
It’s dark on the ship, and the light around Bato’s silhouette is just a little hazy, and Hakoda starts to wonder if this is just another figment of his wishful thinking, or the spirit of Bato come to confront him once and for all. But the little smile on Bato’s face is utterly grounding.
“Is it…” Hakoda whispers, so scared to ask the question and hear a heartbreaking no. “Is it really you?”
“It’s really me,” Bato says, and the sincerity in Bato’s voice is unmistakable.
Nothing goes as planned.
There is no feast, no campfire, no story, no patience, no moonlight. Instead, Hakoda’s half-full glass clatters to the ground as he bolts toward Bato, ugly tears streaming from his eyes and a relieved sob ripping from his throat. Suddenly Hakoda is all hands. His hands are everywhere, grabbing at Bato’s arms and chest and hands, just to convince himself that what he’s seeing is real. They finally settle on either side of Bato’s face, pulling it down roughly so he can press their foreheads together. “It’s you? It’s you?” his lips keep murmuring of their own accord just as Bato keeps whispering back “it’s me, it’s me…”
In the end Hakoda has no choice but to kiss him, to prove Bato’s existence to himself by making sure they’re touching on every surface they can touch. It’s desperate, and disgusting, and damp with tears and snot. Hakoda feels like he’s flying.
And he could do this forever, but he has to pull away and shuck off the weight that’s been holding him down for so long.
“I love you,” he says with his eyes squeezed tight and his mouth only a breath from Bato’s. “I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you before I left. I love you. I love you.”
“I know,” Bato murmurs against him. “I know.”
That’s the thing that finally makes Hakoda separate their faces, just a little. “Really? You know?”
“Who other than a lovestruck idiot would have carried me all that way on his own?”
That brings a deep laugh from Hakoda’s throat. “I suppose you’re right,” he agrees. “I have been acting like a bit of a lovestruck idiot.”
“I think I can forgive that,” Bato says softly, and this time it’s him pressing a featherlight kiss to Hakoda’s forehead. “I’m a little bit in love with you myself.”
Hakoda looks at him. “Really?”
“Who other than a lovestruck idiot would have walked halfway across the Earth Kingdom to be by your side again?”
Hakoda laughs, and kisses him again, because now he can and it really is so much better than his wildest fantasies. There are questions he still needs answers to and skin he still needs to put his hands on, but for now he just needs to extract a promise from Bato before he tugs him into his bed.
“You are never, ever staying behind again. Understood?”
Bato smiles against his mouth. “I think that can be arranged.”
Hakoda kisses him again. Because Bato is alive and real and here and Hakoda loves him so, so much.