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i see the moon, the moon sees me
the moon sees the one that i want to see
i.
The night before Ty Lee leaves, she and Mai climb onto the roof of Mai’s house and stare up at the sky. Mai is thirteen years old and she knows this is too young to leave, but she knows also that Ty Lee doesn’t have a choice.
(It’s different than Zuko’s lack of choice. But it also isn’t.)
The circus was her calling, Ty Lee had said, and she couldn’t stay at home.
Mai gets that - the not being able to stay at home. But just as Zuko and Ty Lee were forced to leave, Mai is forced to stay. Choice, Mai thinks, is an illusion. Everyone has their path set out for them, written in the stars, and your life will be pushed in the direction it has to go no matter how hard you may fight against fate. That’s just the way it works.
It’s easier for Ty Lee to leave. It’s safer. It will make her happy, and as long as she knows Ty Lee is happy somewhere, Mai will be fine.
Still, despite the fact that she already knows the answer, Mai has the urge to ask, “Do you have to go?” The question lingers on her tongue; she longs to beg Ty Lee to stay. Even just for one more week, one more day, one more hour. Anything more than the time they’ve been allotted. Any extra moment between them outside of the destiny they didn’t choose.
“I wish you could come with me.” Ty Lee speaks out into the black void that lies beyond where the two of them are perched, pretending nothing else exists. She says it like an admission of a crime. Maybe it is. Whatever feelings are floating between the two of them are toeing the line between what is and is not allowed.
Which is why the greater the distance between them, the safer they will be.
“Me too,” Mai hears herself say. Another confession that should not be breathed where anyone can hear it, but is openly stated all the same.
After all, the world is down to the two of them. Even if everyone else will return in the morning, this moment belongs only to Mai and Ty Lee.
Logically, Mai knows there is always the possibility of someone watching. That’s what brought them here in the first place - the false idea that loneliness is palpable in the Fire Nation. They thought they were alone before - when Ty Lee had tangled her fingers with Mai’s and confessed she liked Mai more than she was probably supposed to. When Ty Lee had pushed herself up onto her tiptoes and pressed a feather light kiss to Mai’s cheek. When Ty Lin had walked into Ty Lee’s room without announcing herself first and dropped the teacup in her hand, shattering it into a thousand pieces.
Everything had happened so quickly after that. Ty Lee had yanked herself away from Mai, Ty Lao and Ty Lat had come to see what was wrong. Ty Lin hadn’t said anything, but the revolted look she sent towards Mai and Ty Lee will be ingrained in Mai’s mind for the rest of her life. She imagines it’s worse for Ty Lee, though - seeing your own sister so disgusted with you.
Ty Lin’s ultimatum had been Ty Lee leaving - running away to join the circus, like she’d said she wanted to a hundred times before. She had the offer waiting already, but she’d told Mai she didn’t want to take it because that would mean leaving Mai behind. Leaving Mai alone.
But there isn’t a choice now, is there? Fate will get its way. Fate will drive a stake between friends (or whatever she and Ty Lee are to each other) just to send people where they’re meant to go. Ty Lee is meant to join the circus. Mai is meant to stay behind.
“I’m sorry,” Ty Lee whispers.
“For what?”
“This.” Ty Lee gestures vaguely between them. “For not being more careful. For… for killing this. Whatever it is.”
“It didn’t have a chance anyways,” Mai says. It’s true - there is no place for people like Mai and Ty Lee in the Fire Nation.
(There is no place for people like Zuko in the Fire Nation. Fire Lord Ozai made that abundantly clear.)
(And maybe the banishment was only for speaking out and refusing to fight back, but Mai thinks there was something deeper than that, something underlying, something unfixable. Something that would make Fire Lord Ozai send his only son on a quest he isn’t supposed to return from. Mai isn’t stupid. She knows Zuko isn’t supposed to come back.)
“We could’ve hidden--”
“Ty Lee,” Mai interrupts, because thinking they did have a chance is too painful. Thinking that there was a possibility of happiness that slipped through their fingers because of one mistake is just going to hurt. It’s easier to believe this was always the way it would end: separation for safety. Isn’t that what growing up is? Losing touch with anything that once made you human? Of course Mai has to lose Ty Lee; Ty Lee is the only thing in the world that can still make Mai feel.
Thirteen is too young to be banished, too young to run away from home, too young to lose your last link to childhood. But it doesn’t matter.
“I don’t want to leave you.” Ty Lee’s voice cracks and Mai squeezes her eyes shut, refusing to let tears fall. “It isn’t fair.”
“Life isn’t fair,” Mai snaps, because why can’t Ty Lee understand that this was always coming for them, that they were always on borrowed time? They’re lucky they even have tonight together, they’re lucky Ty Lin didn’t sell them out and send them to prison or sentence them to the same fate as Zuko. They’re lucky they haven’t been burned and banished. Because that’s what they deserve. Mai knows it is.
They’re the lucky ones.
Ty Lee flings her arms around Mai. “We’re going to see each other again,” she promises, like that’s their choice to make. “I’m going to see you again.”
“Okay,” is the only response Mai can manage as Ty Lee buries her face in Mai’s shoulder.
“I’m sorry,” Ty Lee repeats. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”
“Ty Lee.” Mai shrugs Ty Lee off of her and holds her at arm’s length. She brushes a tear from the other girl’s cheek and ignores how right it feels to touch Ty Lee in a way that blurs the lines. “Don’t cry,” she all but begs. “I don’t blame you. It’s not your fault.”
Ty Lee sniffs. She leans in, much too close, and rests her forehead against Mai’s. “We’re going to see each other again,” she repeats. “This isn’t the end of our story.” And what hurts most is the fact that Ty Lee sounds like she genuinely believes it.
“How can you be so sure?”
“Because love is stronger than fear.” She says it simply, like there’s no doubt in the world that it’s the truth.
Mai doesn’t ask for clarification on what sort of love Ty Lee means. Either way, the answer would hurt too much to bear.
They resume their original positions - seated next to each other, as close as is safe, with Ty Lee’s fingers brushing against Mai’s. Mai looks up at the stars, studying the constellations she’s mostly forgotten the names of.
“You know,” Ty Lee says after several moments of silence, “we might not be able to see all the same stars once I leave, but we’ll always be looking at the same moon.” She moves her hand just enough so it’s covering Mai’s. Mai looks over at her, but she’s still looking at the moon. “No matter where either of us go, the moon will stay the same.”
Mai turns her gaze to the moon as well. It’s a dangerous game to play, but Ty Lee has always been the only one Mai would risk everything for. “Until we see each other again, I’ll look at the moon when I miss you.” Mai still isn’t sure she believes this won’t be the last time she sees Ty Lee, but… maybe a little hope wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.
“Me too. Whenever I miss you, I’m going to look at the moon and remember that you can see her and she can see you.”
It’s not happiness, but it’s something. And Mai supposes something to help her hold onto Ty Lee is better than letting her slip through her grasp entirely.
ii.
When the moon dies, Mai is seated on the roof of her house once again. But this time, she’s alone.
It’s been over a year since Ty Lee left and Mai is having trouble ignoring the hollow ache in her chest that’s been dragging her down ever since she last saw Ty Lee. So she’d climbed up onto the roof to look at the moon, hoping that wherever she was, Ty Lee was doing the same.
If everything went according to plan, Mai was going to be leaving the Fire Nation with her family soon. If everything went according to plan, her father would be sent to Omashu and Mai, her mother, and her brother would have no choice but to follow.
Mai doesn’t know where Ty Lee is - if Omashu is farther or closer to her circus troupe - but she knows that the moon is visible in Omashu too. The moon is visible everywhere.
Until it isn’t.
Until Mai wonders if this is the end of the world, because the moon is red, and the red light sweeps across Caldera City, until red is all that Mai can see. She’s heard of a sort of eclipse that will do this to the moon, but this feels different. This feels dangerous.
(Is Ty Lee watching the moon too? Wondering if this is something natural or if this is the price of war?)
(Can this war touch the Fire Nation? Mai thought she was safe here, at least. Even if she’d rather be anywhere else in the world, at least the war can’t hurt her here.)
(Right?)
The entire world is red, as far as Mai can see and certainly beyond that as well. The moon is the same moon no matter where you are in the world. Wherever Ty Lee is, the moon shining down on her must be red as well.
Despite the fact that the general population of Caldera City follows the sleep schedule of a firebender - early to bed, early to rise - Mai can hear a commotion rising. She supposes it only takes one person who was still awake shouting, THE MOON IS RED! for the entire city to wake. She sees people emerging from their houses cautiously, all looking upward.
Fear nags at the back of Mai’s mind, reminding her that she’s surely only got a limited amount of time before her parents look to make sure she’s okay and find her bed empty. But the fear is distant and meaningless under the light of a red moon, under a light that makes it look like the world won’t last an hour more.
Let Mai’s parents find her on the roof. What does it matter if it’s ladylike or not? At least they cared enough to check on her.
(But - and the part of Mai that suggests this is either the rational part or the bleakly pessimistic part, though she’s not sure which is worse - why would they check on Mai when they have Tom-Tom to worry about now?)
Mai can’t tear her eyes away from the moon. Her link to Ty Lee - the reminder that she is out there somewhere, she’s in the same world Mai is in, she can see the same moon. No matter how far apart they are, the moon is supposed to be a constant. It’s supposed to be a reminder.
It looks like blood.
Mai can’t breathe.
The moon is bleeding, dying, and it’s like she can feel herself losing Ty Lee all over again. The moon is dying and Mai’s brain is saying it’s all her fault, for thinking she could have any part of Ty Lee left to hold onto. For thinking she deserved to be able to look up at the night sky and have a wave of comfort wash over her because somewhere, Ty Lee can see the same moon she can.
It can’t be Mai’s fault, of course. That doesn’t make any sense. The moon spirit would have no reason to pay attention to Mai long enough to take this from her.
(Unless the moon spirit heard Mai’s whispered pleas to see Ty Lee again and took offense that someone from the Fire Nation would ask her for a favor.)
(Unless it is Mai’s fault.)
The moon is red, and Caldera City has always been doused in red because that’s the color of the Fire Nation, but this red is sinister and threatening. This red is different. And for half a second, Mai wonders if this is how the rest of the world sees the color red - as a warning. As the end.
And then, just as suddenly as it happened, the moon is back to it’s normal silvery glow. Mai can hear the murmurs of relief drifting up from the streets below her, watches as people begin to make their way back into their houses, writing it off as an eclipse.
It doesn’t last.
Because of course it doesn’t.
The air shifts in a way Mai can’t explain and dread fills her entire body. Her heart rate picks up and the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end.
And then the moon is gone.
--
When the moon dies, Ty Lee is laying in the grass, looking up at the stars.
It was red like a rose, then back to normal, and then it disappeared from the sky entirely. Ty Lee saw. She was watching, eyes glued to the moon, thinking about Mai. Mai, who is back in Caldera City, who can see a different collection of stars than Ty Lee can from the Colonies, who can still see the same moon.
Until she can’t, because the moon has vanished. Disappeared. There one moment, and gone the next. Until the world goes grey and the moon is gone.
Until the link Ty Lee knew she would always have to Mai has dropped out of the sky.
Ty Lee is fourteen years old, and she thinks this might be the end of the world. She doesn’t know exactly what the moon does, but she knows it has something to do with the tides and she knows it keeps balance. She knows the moon spirit is just as important as the sun spirit.
But the moon is dead.
Where is Mai?
Someone - Kei, maybe - says something about the moon, something Ty Lee doesn’t hear, and then other voices join the first one. Ty Lee can hear footsteps, worried words, prayers, but she stays where she is, staring up at the spot where the moon used to be. She can’t tear her eyes away, can’t stop thinking about Mai.
If she looks away, she forgets where the moon used to be and she loses Mai. She can’t lose Mai - she can’t.
(She already has.)
Ty Lee can do a lot of things. She can run away from home at thirteen to save both herself and the girl she loves. She can join the circus and find a way to fit in with the others, most of whom are far older than she is. She can keep the part of herself that loves Mai in a way that isn’t allowed under lock and key so no one else will ever find out.
But she can’t lose the one thing she and Mai share.
“Ty Lee!” someone calls, probably Kei again. “Ty Lee, we have to get inside.”
What’s the point? Ty Lee wants to ask. Inside won’t save anyone from the end of the world. Inside won’t bring back the moon. Inside won’t bring back Mai; inside will increase the separation. Surely Mai is outside right now, looking at the sky, searching for a moon that doesn’t exist anymore. Searching for the one thing that was supposed to be theirs. Searching for the reminder, the one place to look when Ty Lee’s heart is screaming I MISS YOU I MISS YOU I MISS YOU!
“TY LEE!” A hand wraps itself around Ty Lee’s arm and yanks her upwards, but Ty Lee doesn’t look to see who it is. She can’t. She can’t. She has to watch for the moon. The moon has to come back - it has to. The moon can’t just disappear. The moon can’t fade into nothing without the end of the world following close behind.
Whoever grabbed Ty Lee tries pulling her away from her spot, presumably towards the main tent that hasn’t been taken down yet. But Ty Lee rips her arm away, eyes never leaving the sky.
“Ty Lee, you have to get inside.”
“I can’t.” The moon is gone. I have to watch to see if it comes back. “I can’t.”
“This isn’t a choice. It’s not safe to be outside.”
“It’s not safe to be inside either!” Ty Lee argues. On instinct, she turns to look at who she’s arguing with and finds that it is, in fact, Kei. “The moon is gone! Nowhere is safe!”
The moon is gone.
And Ty Lee looked away.
“No,” she whispers under her breath, swinging her gaze back up to the sky. “No, no, no.” Her eyes dart back and forth, searching the stars for some sort of signal, anything to remind her of the moon’s exact position, but she comes up empty. “No!”
She lost it, she lost Mai. They’re supposed to see each other again, they’re supposed to see each other again!
“I’m taking you inside,” Kei says, using the sort of motherly tone that lets Ty Lee know she isn’t going to be arguing about this. Kei isn’t quite old enough to be Ty Lee’s mother, but she acts like it anyways. And she’s strong enough that in one swift movement, she can pick Ty Lee up and hoist her over her shoulder.
“NO!” Ty Lee shouts. She feels like a little kid throwing a tantrum, but she isn’t thinking straight because her thoughts are entirely occupied by Mai and the moon. She calls out for Mai like somehow she’ll be heard, like somehow her voice could carry across the sea and all the way back to Caldera City. Like maybe, if this is the end of the world, one of the spirits will be kind enough to allow her to see Mai one last time before everything else dissipates just like the moon did.
Kei hauls Ty Lee back into the tent and deposits her onto the ground. “What is your problem?!” she demands, hands on her hips.
Ty Lee doesn’t answer. Her throat is closing in on itself and she can’t get anything out besides a choked sob. She looks upwards, to the top of the tent, begging the spirits to let her see through it, let her watch the sky in case the moon makes its return, let her not lose Mai anymore than she already has.
Ty Lee wraps her arms around herself, digging her fingernails into her forearms, and squeezes her eyes shut. The world may very well be ending, and all she wants is to see Mai. She wants to know Mai is safe, wants to know she’s alive. She wants Mai to know that even if the moon never returns, she won’t forget about her. She’ll stare at the stars and the clouds and the sun and the empty place where the moon used to be and she’ll think of Mai because nothing - no apocalypse, no death of a spirit, nothing - could erase Mai from Ty Lee’s mind.
(When the moon returns, minutes later, Ty Lee will pray to the moon spirit and beg her to let Mai know she’s okay, somehow, and ask her for any sign that Mai is alright as well.)
iii.
They don’t talk about it. Not when Azula tracks them down and recruits them to join her team, not when they’re undercover as Kyoshi Warriors in Ba Sing Se, not when Zuko comes home, not when Zuko runs by his own choice this time, not when they’re tossed in prison for high treason, not when the leader of the Kyoshi Warriors comes to free them on direct orders from Zuko after the war ends. They don’t talk about what they were or what they are or the fact that they still both stare up at the moon like she has all the answers.
They don’t talk until a week after the war’s end, the night after Zuko’s coronation, when they find themselves on a balcony together, staring up at the moon.
“Are you and Zuko going to get back together?” Ty Lee questions. She doesn’t meet Mai’s eyes because she’s afraid of the answer. She thinks she knows what Mai will say, but that doesn’t mean she has to look Mai in the eye when she says it. She doesn’t have to let Mai see the red in her eyes, the ache of losing Mai for real this time.
But Mai says, “No.” She sighs deeply. “We talked about it a couple days ago. We’re… not compatible, I guess?” she shakes her head. “We weren’t ever in love. Even when we were dating, I wasn’t… I had feelings for someone else - someone I couldn’t be with.” Her lips twitch upwards, which is as close as she ever gets to an actual smile. “Besides, I’m pretty sure he has a thing for that Water Tribe boy now.”
“Sokka?” Ty Lee questions.
Mai hums - an unspoken yes.
Ty Lee tilts her head, recalling the way they were looking at each other during dinner. “That… actually makes a lot of sense,” she admits. She twists her fingers together and spares a glance over at Mai, just to find Mai is already looking at her. “So who’s this mystery person who you couldn’t be with?”
Mai’s face softens and she smiles for real. “Who do you think?” She looks away then, back to the sky. Back to the moon. “She left me when we were thirteen, but she didn’t have a choice. And I thought, for a while, that I was never going to see her again and it was my fault. Because I shouldn’t have fallen for her, but I did anyway. I couldn’t help it.
“The night before she left, she told me that no matter where we were, no matter how far away we were from each other, we would always be looking up at the same moon. So even if we could never be together, I could at least look up at the moon and know that she was out there somewhere, and maybe she was looking at the moon and thinking of me too.”
Ty Lee reaches over for Mai’s hand. “When the moon disappeared, I was afraid I’d lost you,” she confesses. “I was afraid I was wrong and we wouldn’t see each other again. Everyone was freaking out, but all I could think about was you. I thought the world was ending, but I just wanted you.”
“Can we do this now?” Mai whispers, her voice barely audible. “Can we-- can we be us?”
Ty Lee laces their fingers together and leans her head on Mai’s shoulder. “You said yourself that Zuko is like us. And even if we can’t be ourselves in the Fire Nation, we’ll go somewhere else. Anywhere else. As long as we’re together.”
“As long as we’re together,” Mai repeats slowly. She relaxes at that. “Okay. I can live with that.” She traces her thumb across the back of Ty Lee’s hand. “I thought fate was splitting us up forever. I thought we didn’t have a choice.”
“We have a choice now.”
“I know.” Mai presses a kiss to the top of Ty Lee’s head.
Warmth spreads through Ty Lee’s body. They sit there, closer than they’ve been allowed to be in years, and they watch the moon.