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If she took the time to really think beyond Zaheer lost and It hurts to breathe, Ming-Hua knew she wouldn’t have been surprised by the fact a set of soldiers? Guards? Sentries? At some point it didn’t matter who was trying to capture the two of them as they limped out of the cavern he collapsed. The other Red Lotus members, their metal benders, had disappeared, and with a fractured wrist and more bruises than he could count, including his ribs, Ghazan wasn’t much for defending the two of them. He swayed on his feet at the pressure on his wrist and collapsed when his hands were wrenched behind his back.
Ming-Hua cursed the shackles that restrained them when their own feet were dragged out from under them, forcing Ming-Hua to kneel as if she hadn’t become horribly acquainted with the practice in the past decade. They couldn’t break through whatever metal was holding them because of the angle, and each time the lavabender’s breathing evened out and he gathered his strength to stand, another harsh jerk sent him reeling from pain once again. She did the glaring for both of them, looking at the woman that appeared to be calling the shots.
“Surrender now, and maybe you’ll receive clemency for all the things you’ve done.” She threatened, head hidden behind a hideous helmet.
In response Ming-Hua sent a flurry of ice spears towards her, which she easily blocked with a pillar of dirt. The water soaked into the ground and Ming-Hua watched it with dismay.
“I’ll only ask once more. Surrender.”
Ghazan bit back a scream next to her, and her weakened, erratic heart clenched. She didn’t look at him, afraid of what she would see.
Maybe this time they’d kill them. It would be better than being put back in their volcanic cage. Ghazan had fulfilled their wish of erupting the volcano and destroying what he could of the facility, but they were under no illusions that it would be difficult to replicate the conditions once again.
It wouldn’t be so bad if they were dead, like Ghazan had intended.
She dropped what remained of her arms, water disappearing into the ground.
A soldier stepped forward and hit her, in the same pattern she was horribly familiar with, and the nausea that accompanied her every waking moment. She slumped to the ground, wishing they’d drug her like they did last time for transport. It was better, not to know what was coming.
Another pained wheeze and Ming-Hua knew the same had happened to her partner, and Ghazan fell just as she had.
They pulled up her tunic, and part of Ming-Hua wanted to rebel, but the larger part, the part that was tired, the part that had dealt with worse indignities than being touched did nothing as the sharp pinprick of a needle entered her thigh.
They knew they should have been more bothered at the drowsiness that rushed over them, but they didn’t fight it. Her newly fried and weakened heart might not be able to take the strain of whatever they injected.
——
Waking up after being drugged was never pleasant. Their mouth felt like cotton had been stuffed into it, and like they hadn’t drank water for thirteen years. Their stomach ached, but food didn’t seem like a viable option, given that Ming-Hua thought they’d vomit at more than white rice.
It was much too bright, and she squinted opening her eyes. Her ankles still had the manacles from before wrapped around them, and Ming-Hua supposed she should be grateful she wasn’t outfitted in a collar.
A groan reverberated around the room, a groan she was more than familiar with, having been the cause of it multiple times. Despite her eyes wanting to snap shut, she forced them open, looking around at her new surroundings. It was bright and shiny and made of reflective metal, all of which made it marginally better than the prison she had left behind. It was a little chilly, which made it significantly better. The air was bone dry, which made it the same.
Ghazan laid on a bed much the same as they did, and Ming-Hua found it funny they woke up at similar times. Their healer must have been an expert at drugging people to accomplish that. He looked better, less pale and drawn, than he had before, but it was just as likely the tranquilizer acted as some sort of painkiller as the idea someone had healed him while he was unconscious.
A smaller grunt, and he shifted so he was looking at her and they stared. She had thought the last memory she had of him would be him kneeling in the dirt, crying out in pain, not whatever this was. Certainly, last time didn’t involve her seeing her friends beyond their capture. Definitely not stored in the same location, even in transport.
They stared at him, trying to imprint his face one last time. If they, whoever had captured them, Ming-Hua still didn’t know, wouldn’t kill them, it was only a matter of time before he was taken away for good, and they would be alone until they wished they weren’t. Until the crushing loneliness reared its ugly head, a feeling they had grown used to in their first prison, but had all but vanished with her friends and family around her for a brief few weeks.
Ming-Hua wouldn’t cry this time. She had been twenty seven and stupid then, and at forty and marginally less stupid she knew it would only be a sign of weakness. There was no seal to show where the door had to be, only a few bars that made up a window.
Eyes peeked into their cell via the window, and Ming-Hua cursed themself for making eye contact with them. An incomprehensible shout, and there was a flurry of activity outside. Metal creaked loudly, and Ming-Hua winced as they struggled to sit up. Residual nausea that could be cured with some crackers and water, items they doubted would be provided, made their movements slower. Swinging their legs off the cot, they realized their legs, bound together as they were, were also attached to a tether on the wall.
Looking at her companion, who had moved in much the same pattern as she had, he was bound the same way, except his wrists were also shackled and connected to his ankles. He appeared to have been healed of his injuries, not just riding the high of a painkiller. At least they weren’t chained behind him, Ming-Hua thought, full of mirth. One benefit of having no arms meant they couldn’t be used against her to hold her in place. He looked just as confused as she felt, and she shook her head once when he looked like he wanted to say something.
No, whoever had them, whether it was the White Lotus once again or the Earth Kingdom or the United Republic, it would be foolish to admit they were more than people with the same goal. They didn’t need to know how close the two of them were, that they would move heaven and earth to defend their partner.
The door opened, and three people walked in, wearing the regalia Ming-Hua had grown sick of seeing in only a few days. The White Lotus, then. She supposed their alleged crimes were against many different nations, and they were the only real international authorities.
“Ming-Hua, Ghazan, you have been placed under arrest due to charges of terrorism, murder, torture, vandalism, theft, and multiple counts of endangerment of a minor, amongst other charges.” Their apparent leader read from his scroll. “You have been placed into the custody of the White Lotus as each of the nations your crimes have affected prepare additional charges. Do you have any questions?”
Ming-Hua had to know, had to know if all that was in her future was being roasted alive. She would end it herself if that was all that she had to look forward to. “Are you taking us back to our old prisons?”
He looked at her, his beard poking out from whatever sleeve they had covering their jaw and neck. “Complaints have been made about your previous prisons.” Ming-Hua wished her own complaints had been enough, that they had listened to her when she complained of being faint, sick. That her first kidney stone would have had more than a mild painkiller as she spent her time alternating vomiting and nearly fainting as she tried to pass it. That her delirious fevers were taken more seriously. That her lungs weren’t burned from the inside out. “You are currently in your home for the foreseeable future. The air is processed so there is no detectable water in it. Your cell is coated in platinum, and your restraints are also made from platinum. If you need to use the toilet, ask and you’ll be escorted down the hall. If you attempt to escape or harm one of the guards, you will be placed into solitary confinement for the rest of your imprisonment.”
Ming-Hua swallowed. It was asking a lot to be alone for that long. If, when, they escaped, they couldn’t screw it up. Neither of them would be able to escape solitary confinement again, not as alone as they were.
He looked at Ghazan, who had been watching him and his two companions warily, “You have been allowed to stay as your familiarity with each other means you can handle the day to day assistance she will require. After your behavior before,” He turned back to Ming-Hua, “we have found it difficult to find someone with the proper abilities to help you.”
She had killed one guard who “assisted” her and spared the other during her escape, as she had promised only four years into her captivity. That the one who she had let go didn’t want to return didn’t surprise her. Never mind that she didn’t require assistance.
Ming-Hua shrugged. If it meant he would stay, they would suffer through a variety of indignities. It would be better to be humiliated with him than to be humiliated just the same but with a stranger.
“Are you going to take off these?” Ghazan raised his wrists and shook them, causing the chains to jingle.
“No. As an additional security measure, you will be restrained the entirety of your time here. There should be enough slack you can move about this cell, but if you abuse the privilege, they can be shortened significantly.”
Ming-Hua didn’t need him to elaborate to know that meant they would be lucky to have any freedom of movement, and if their interrogation followed the same trajectory it did before, Ming-Hua wouldn’t want to move much anyway. They wouldn’t want Ghazan to be used against them just as much as they wouldn’t want to be used against him.
No, these captors couldn’t know about how close the two of them were.
At the lack of questions, the three of them turned around and left, the latches on the metal sounding final. Ming-Hua looked at her partner, and he opened his mouth to say something. A sharp jerk of her head and he stopped.
They had an audience, and certainly couldn’t confirm anything that they already suspected.
——
The lights dimmed. It was darker than it had ever been in her cell before, and in the shadows she looked at her cellmate. As silently as she could, mindful of the eyes that periodically peeped in their cell, she sat next to him on the floor, close enough that she could pretend the warmth she felt was from his body.
“We can’t appear as more than acquaintances.” Ming-Hua murmured, as silently as she could. “We can’t talk or…” She trailed off. Their cell was empty, and talking was the only real form of entertainment. She couldn’t see the guards to make up stories like she used to, or watch the stars like he once did.
He looked at her and nodded. She swallowed the lump in her throat, and pushed away from him, settling back onto her cot.
They would figure out some game later, to make it less shitty to have him so close and yet so unreachable.
——
A single glass of water was brought with two bowls of rice and a single set of chopsticks for breakfast. Ming-Hua grimaced, expecting something similar. Ghazan frowned at the offering; perhaps he had not realized when she said she was kept dehydrated she meant it. He could have the glass if he was that thirsty, and she could wait until the second meal. Certainly, it was easier to bear the headache here than it had been before, now that there was a bed and it wasn’t so hot. She had stayed up all night as he snored, knowing he preferred keeping watch during the day.
He offered it to them and they shook their head. The rice would be enough. He drank a sip of water and they sat on the floor next to him. Ghazan alternated bites of rice between them, and Ming-Hua enjoyed the plain over boiled starch more than they thought they would. When both bowls were finished, he offered the glass to them again, and Ming-Hua bent a single mouthful, if he was going to be insistent she didn’t have it in her to argue.
He stalked towards the window, brought short by the chain. “Hey!”
His voice cracked from the lack of liquid and the fact all he had been doing before this was screaming, then nothing. A pair of eyes appeared, and Ghazan continued, “If we finish this,” he shook the cup, careful not to let any of it spill, “Can we get another?”
“If you have swallowed all the water initially given to you, you can have up to three more cups worth.”
Ming-Hua’s eyebrows shot up. Already this place was turning out leagues better than their old prison. Ghazan turned with a triumphant look, and held out the water to them. They bent it from the glass and into their mouth, eyes watching from the window the entire time. They swallowed eagerly, hopeful now they wouldn’t be reduced to the pitiful state they had been in before.
If she had to watch him resist hovering over her as she tried to pass another stone, it might actually break her heart in two. He’d never liked seeing her in pain, even if it was simply a scrape.
Ghazan pushed the glass and empty bowls towards the door, which was opened enough to receive a full glass and remove the empty dishware. He offered it again to Ming-Hua, who shook her head, then drank it himself.
They alternated until all four cups had been distributed.
Ming-Hua called forth as much vitriol as they could muster, “I’m going to sleep, since your snores kept me up all night. Don’t wake me.”
He rolled his eyes and put on a mock affronted look, but Ming-Hua knew that he knew they didn’t mean it. They settled on the cot and used their teeth to arrange the blanket over them. Thin as it was, it didn’t provide much protection against the chill of the cell.
Her head hit the pillow and the stress of the last month weighed heavily on her bones. In only a few minutes she was asleep, Ghazan looking bored all around the room, in every direction but hers.
——
He was better at keeping track of days, but Ming-Hua refused to ask, knowing that one conversation would turn to two would turn to fifty. They assumed it had been a week in their new prison, mostly silent except for a guard announcing food being brought to them.
Her hair was snarled together, and Ghazan did his best each night to finger comb it. His nails occasionally scraped her scalp in the process and the action made her bones turn to jelly and caused a fluttering feeling in her stomach, but she did nothing more than stiffen her back and glare at whoever was watching them.
The first time a guard entered without food, Ming-Hua was instantly reminded of how the first time they were imprisoned, interrogations had begun immediately. Left alone in her cell, to starve or eat from the floor like a dog, each day had come with being dragged to an interrogation room, questions relentlessly asked, and getting wrenched around by her hair. No, Ming-Hua was not looking forward to a repeat.
“Once a week you will be allowed to bathe.” Ming-Hua was still suspicious. Were they expected to wash with the single glass of water they shared between them? He turned to Ming-Hua, “You will be chi-blocked and a timer set for twenty five minutes. Both of you will be expected to clean yourselves in that time.”
A sharp nod from both of them. She knew she reeked, and he certainly didn’t smell much better.
“Can we get a comb?” Ghazan asked, “And a towel or something?”
The guard nodded, and turned on his heel. The door latched behind him, and a few minutes later a comb rested neatly on top of two towels. “Let us know when you’re ready.”
Ghazan sat down and started combing his own hair first, and, after a significant amount of cursing and pulling, he was able to drag the comb through with no difficulties. He waved towards them, and Ming-Hua knelt next to him, mouth pinched shut as he, much more gently than he had been with himself, detangled their hair.
He ghosted his hands along the tie of their tunic and Ming-Hua nodded. Twenty five minutes was not much to bathe and wash hair, and as much care as could be done prior to, the better. She could have pulled the ties by herself, but was determined to make the most of when he could touch her without arousing suspicions.
Ghazan unfastened everything, but left it on so she wasn’t wholly naked when chi-blocked, and averted his gaze at the routine blows, face blank except for a small frown.
He was quick at washing both of them, two rags and a singular bar of soap to wipe the worst of the grime and sweat away and her hair hung less limp than it did before. Clean clothes were provided, similar styles to the ones they wore when they were free, if more plain, and Ming-Hua barely paid it any mind when a waterbender removed the bucket full of water while Ghazan toweled her off. He moved himself, wearing only his underclothes, to block their view.
Another comb through their hair, and Ming-Hua slept.
——
During the day, both of them sat on their respective beds or on the hard floor, softened only by their thin pillows. When Ming-Hua dared to look at him, knowing her expression would soften unacceptably, he always looked away. This was worse than when they had been twenty, and too cowardly to admit their feelings for each other. Now they knew and still couldn’t act on them, couldn’t provide the slightest bit of comfort to each other without revealing what a weakness they were to each other.
At night they were more bold. Silently they’d stare at each other, trying to guess what the other was thinking. They sat closer than they would have dared during the day, knowing the night shift never bothered to peek into their cell beyond the first couple of days. His hand reached out to her, crossing the distance as much as he dared, looking for all the world like a casual sprawl, and Ming-Hua stared at it and tried not to cry.
They could hear him breathe, and when both of them sat against the wall, Ming-Hua closed their eyes and pretended that he was sitting next to them, that they could feel his warmth.
No, this was her fault and her fault alone. She was the one who had given up like a fool. Her chest hurt. Ming-Hua chalked it up to being struck with lightning at her age.
——
Wash day was easier to keep up with than individual days, and three wash days into their new imprisonment, Ming-Hua was chi-blocked and untethered from the wall without asking, Ghazan watching with thinly veiled concern from the other side of the room.
Ming-Hua had almost forgotten what it was like to be interrogated as they took her to an unfamiliar room, beyond the bathroom that was just down the hall from their cell. She hadn’t missed it. The nerves in her stomach made her steps unsure, despite knowing that she wanted to at least appear unbothered before facing whatever this was.
This time, there was an elevator that took them further into whatever compound they were being held in. Ming-Hua pretended to be bored waiting for their final destination, but made a conscious effort to memorize how to return. The new room was even emptier than their cell, containing another chain and ring on the wall and not much else.
Ming-Hua wondered if her old interrogators still worked for the White Lotus and if they were going to reappear here, to either carry out the deeds themselves or instruct the new ones on what did and did not work last time. The sound of metal clicking as she was once again tied to the wall (like some sort of misbehaving animal! an indignant voice at the back of their head screamed) and she did her best to look bored, dreading the forced kneeling that always accompanied men trying to force her to talk, as if she wasn’t already used to being the shortest one in the room.
“For all full moons and the day preceding and the day succeeding them, you will be kept here, to prevent any unethical experiments on your cellmate.” Ming-Hua had to raise their eyebrow at that. Being told they were monstrous enough to practice bloodbending on a cellmate was a new low, even for the White Lotus. “Guards will be stationed down the hall. If there is an emergency, you may shout. Otherwise you will be visited with water and food once a day.”
This was the treatment Ming-Hua knew to expect. As annoying as this prison was, it wasn’t that bad. Ghazan was there, improving conditions a hundredfold even if they couldn’t talk. They were fed twice a day, which was an improvement over their old prison. They were given at least double the water despite conditions not being so exhausting. Unless they gave them enough water to form an arm and eat, Ming-Hua resigned themself to fasting for the full moon each month.
The sentries waited expectantly, and Ming-Hua gave a nod and grunted to signify she heard and understood. What did they care if she agreed to captivity or not? It certainly had never mattered before. They withdrew and closed the cell door.
She gingerly lowered herself to the ground, mindful of her age. Sleeping on the wood floor had done wonders for her posture, but had been hell on her neck and caused her knees to creak. Metal would be even worse, she knew.
Lying on their back, they let their mind wander to what Ghazan was doing now that he had the cell to himself. Maybe the other guards hadn’t told him what they had sequestered them away for, that in reality it was for his own protection. That they thought Ming-Hua would hurt him.
Ghazan was probably taking care of himself, too embarrassed to do it if he thought Ming-Hua had a chance of waking up and seeing him. Whatever. It didn't matter to her what he did in his spare time, even if she was occasionally full of jealousy that he could do anything about it. She tried to redirect her thoughts, to something that reminded her less of how lonely she was.
No, the one who had walked them down here stepped heavily on his left foot. He probably injured it as a child. Maybe his current girlfriend found the trait annoying, especially if she was trying to sleep and he thump thumped everywhere around their apartment. Ming-Hua frowned. He was old enough to have a proper house, and when he walked on the second floor the uneven gait was even more noticeable.
Yes, his girlfriend was almost certainly annoyed with how he walked. He was an excellent sculptor though, having crafted all the mugs and tea cups in his house himself, with an old fashioned wheel and some determination, since he was only a firebender. They continued to alter his story, resulting in two children and three pets.
Lost in thought, Ming-Hua was surprised when the lights dimmed. Their stomach ached. Part of them could tell the moon was almost at its zenith, all the power at their disposal and nowhere to channel it. They wiggled their toes. It was going to be a long night.
——
Ming-Hua was balanced on a single foot, trying to remember the name of the pose that Zaheer had tried teaching them, something like Lord of the Bugles. They were certain they were wrong about the name, but after thirteen years in prison similar to this, they knew that sitting, or laying, idle for too long resulted in stiff joints and too much thinking.They were also sure they had bastardized the position until it was only a facsimile, but their ankles were bound together, restricting how high their foot could come off the ground.
She had never reached Zaheer’s level of mastery over her thoughts, but trying to relax in that volcanic chamber had taken years of practice. She would get used to the smell only for a breeze to take it away and force her to readjust once again. The swaying of her prison had resulted in constant sea sickness and many bruises on her knees as she stumbled moving around.
This stationary cell was better for that. They kept their eyes closed, trying to pretend the lights hadn’t been on for what had to have been at least a day. The power of the moon had faded, like it always did when the sun rose, and their stomach ached.
Not thinking helped with that too. Ming-Hua breathed in slowly, rotating themself so their torso was perpendicular to the ground. These stretches helped with maintaining their muscle mass as much as she could despite wasting away from inadequate nutrition.
A click and Ming-Hua’s eyes flew open and she straightened herself to look at the intruder. She wondered how much of the old procedure would be followed, if they’d chi-block her and hand feed her like the guards had learned they would have to if she wasn’t going to starve to death. Or if she’d be allowed to bend at all to feed herself, something that had been forgone early in her initial imprisonment due to a failed escape attempt that had ended with one guard rendered mute from her severing his vocal cord for daring to be in her way.
Ming-Hua wouldn’t abandon Ghazan anyhow, and she didn't imagine he would leave her behind either. They weren’t Zaheer. Their earthly tethers mattered enough. So long as one of them was bound and stuck, they both would be. She wouldn’t risk their separation again.
She knew that with the measly cup of water they gave them during their meals, she could shred the chains that tethered them to the wall and kept their limbs restrained, but if she bothered, they’d take him away. He’d end up back on a boat or in another featureless cell and she would be moved here or back to the volcano until the day she died. It was easier to pretend escape wasn’t possible than to make a futile attempt and face the consequences.
They were certain that their prison was designed to destroy any hope they had left, and as much as it pained them, it had succeeded. Certainly, Ming-Hua would prefer to not be in chains, tied to a wall like an ostrich horse, but it was still better than the conditions before. The Avatar cycle clearly wasn’t going to ever be stopped, and all four of them had wasted their lives towards accomplishing that goal with nothing to show for it but a dead friend and over a decade of torture.
Ming-Hua looked at the guard through the small window he had opened with as much feeling as she could muster. He pushed a tray with a bowl and a single cup of water through a slot towards the ground. Ming-Hua could feel it, and decided it was enough to eat with. It might be messy, but feeding herself was a skill she hadn’t forgotten.
He set down the tray and left without a word, and they sat and formed a scoop with the water in the tray. A little bit of ice to prevent the rice from becoming waterlogged, and Ming-Hua ate.
Their stomach was far from full at the end, but Ming-Hua pushed the tray to the door, clearing as much space so they could lay down and sleep, since the next night would be just as restless.
They dozed.
——
“Stand back.”
Ming-Hua thought four guards were overkill to escort her back to their shared cell. She was chi-blocked and found it taking more effort than she was strictly comfortable with to not stumble when walking from the frankly lacking nutrition and the headache that never seemed to disappear.
The one who had given the order peered through the window, and considered Ghazan’s state to be acceptable. The door was pushed open, something Ming-Hua knew was to prevent her specifically from escaping. She shook off the hand that made its way onto her shoulder, lip curling with distaste as she walked back into their prison. Ghazan watched her intently, eyes sweeping over her for injuries. She was more thirsty than she had been for a while, but otherwise was in the same condition as before she left.
They sat on their cot, legs swinging after the chain that connected their ankles was reconnected to the one that resided permanently in the cell. The guard glanced around the cage, which looked as bare as Ming-Hua remembered it, containing two grey blankets and matching pillows, two cots, and a roommate. Apparently deeming it appropriately drab, she left the two of them alone, door latching behind her.
They stared at Ghazan, trying to see if anything had changed. He waggled his eyebrows and reached under his blanket to pull out a book, waving it excitedly. Ming-Hua felt their interest pique. He knew they loved listening to stories or reading them if there was enough time and room for her to move the book with her toes.
“You had better not keep me up reading whatever nonsense that is.” Please read it out loud. He would know what they meant; they were sure of it. They used to read together to pass the time, alternating who actually did the reading while Ghazan turned the pages.
A smile on his face, Ghazan cracked open the book and started reading, making sure to have a variety of different voices for the dialogue. Ming-Hua gave a loud groan of annoyance, huffed, and laid down on the bed. It had been a tiring three days, and his voice was making them drowsy.
——
They didn’t think they actually slept that long. Their cell was still lit to mimic daylight, which Ming-Hua supposed they were thankful for. It was better than the constant gloom from before, and they could have been left in the dark like Zaheer had been. Part of them would have preferred that— fewer voyeuristic eyes would be watching their every move.
She blinked groggily, trying to figure out what had woken her. Ghazan stood over her and she smiled at him before rearranging her expression and sitting up.
“It’s dinner time, and I didn’t want our rice to get cold.” He explained, sitting on the floor next to the two meager bowls and single cup of water. Stiff, Ming-Hua was a little slower before collapsing onto the unforgiving floor.
He alternated bowls, feeding both himself and her. When her hair fell in front of her face, he furtively glanced at the door, and, seeing no one, he quickly pushed the offending strands behind her ear. She fought a blush as his calloused fingertips grazed her cheek.
They both glared at the eyes that periodically looked through the bars on the door, but didn’t share any words until all the food was gone and the water distributed. Ghazan was less concerned about staying hydrated than she was, and always encouraged her to finish the entire glass. He didn’t know, not really, how sometimes the White Lotus would taunt her by giving just enough water to survive. How the amount varied depending on the day and the person in charge. How when she had finally stopped feeling like death had warmed over, the ration would abruptly shrink without reason. He had entirely too much faith that their water situation, that they wouldn’t change their mind because they were slightly annoyed.
He demanded their second glass, and Ming-Hua watched, some part of them always expecting a laugh in their face. The second glass of water was split between them again. And the third. And the fourth.
Ming-Hua asked him to comb their hair. It had been a few days, and they could feel the knots. He nodded and they sat on their cot as he stood behind them, painstakingly gentle at each tangle he found.
Ghazan restarted the book, and Ming-Hua felt themself becoming sleepy once again. He wouldn’t mind, they were sure, at lulling them to sleep twice in a few hours. He would consider it a compliment, that his voice had been soothing enough they could fall asleep.
She was just tired after the moon.
——
Ghazan was the one who suggested an argument to make their apparent hostility more believable. They rearranged their tethers to look tangled and pulled them taunt. Ming-Hua made a loud thump against the ground and chastised him loudly for getting in the way and to stop being such a bastard and help her get up.
He was feeling especially clever that night and his smirk showed it. She shouldered him roughly, and got her hair ruffled for her troubles.
——
Three more wash days and Ghazan had finished the book. Even if he tried to take it slow and say each word deliberately, there was only so much he could prolong the inevitable. He silently offered to reread the book, but Ming-Hua shook their head. It was too valuable to instantly reread it.
She made up new plot lines, ones where the protagonist went to the spirit world and ones where they reunited with their childhood lover. That night, she rested her head on his shoulder as they leaned against the back wall of their cell, sitting on their respective pillows, and eagerly whispered new stories to him. He interjected with what he thought the characters would do in the scenarios that Ming-Hua contrived. He certainly was no creative expert, but perhaps reading aloud and slowly had encouraged some semblance of analysis to pass through his mind.
They heard guards coming to check on them once in the night like they had done for the past three weeks, and immediately pulled apart, reminded of what their situation actually was.
They had to wonder if there were fewer guards at night. It certainly sounded like it.
——
She asked for a pillow the second time they took her into the bowels of the facility they were in. It had hurt, moving after lying on the ground with nothing to soften the hard surface. The sentries escorting her appeared not to have heard, and Ming-Hua was annoyed yet unsurprised. It would be a miracle if any of them had grown a heart. She was reasonably sure that being heartless was a requirement to be stationed in any prison.
They clenched their jaw as they stood still while the tether was reattached. They knew they couldn’t do anything, not if they wanted Ghazan to stay with them. It was significantly less horrible than before, but it wasn’t any less stifling or soul crushing. If he was gone, if they were alone again, their vocal cords would atrophy and they would have no choice but to find a way to end it.
They paced back and forth, trying to work out any energy they could before moonrise. The jittery feeling was wholly uncomfortable, and Ming-Hua hated to experience it again without any way to burn off the excess energy. Their chain clanked along the floor and Ming-Hua bit back their annoyance with the sound.
More metal clanged, and she swung her head to look at the door as it creaked open. A guard walked in, carrying a mat and small lump that Ming-Hua figured counted as a pillow. He rolled it onto the floor and dumped the pillow before turning on his heel and leaving without a word.
Ming-Hua tried jogging in place and ignored the burning in their lungs that reminded them of their first prison.
——
The guard who delivered her food wasn’t leaving. He was still holding the bowl of rice and the cup that she couldn’t feel after being chi-blocked. Ming-Hua didn’t understand the difference in procedure when she was here versus with Ghazan. It shouldn’t have been that much more dangerous here that she was chi-blocked, when in their shared cell, she had an ally and was simply chained and sent to the back wall like a child. The moon made her stronger, sure, but what good was that if she was locked ten floors below the surface in a room with perpetually dry air. A single cup wasn’t good for much in the way of an escape.
They glanced behind him, seeing no one that he might have been waiting for. They wet their lips. “Is there something I can help you with?”
He looked startled at being addressed by them. “I was— I was told to ask you if you required assistance eating.” His stammering just annoyed her further.
Ming-Hua felt their lip curl up into a snarl and anger rise in them at the nerve of this organization to humiliate them and belittle them. “I am perfectly capable of feeding myself.”
Her voice cracked. Ming-Hua forced herself not to be embarrassed at the squeak. That was what happened when you were isolated except for the one person in the world you wanted to talk to, except you were basically forbidden to talk except in whispers.
They looked at each other, then he hastily sat the cup and bowl down within her reach before retreating. The door closed and the lock clicked back into place.
She made a spoon and ate, occasionally glaring at the door.
She bet his kid hated him. His name was Kia, and he liked collecting worms.
——
The solitary cell was ten levels below the surface. Their shared cell was three levels below the surface. Ming-Hua couldn’t stop the unease that filled them when they were moved to the second floor and escorted down a long hallway.
Interrogations never ended well. She had been bruised and bloodied the first time, when they were trying to figure out what they wanted with a child Avatar (to raise her away from these monsters, to show her how important it was to fight for the little guy, to make sure harmonic convergence happened and the cycle could be stopped without hurting her), and wasn’t looking forward to a repeat of that time. Maybe this is what happened to Ghazan when she was taken away, and Ming-Hua felt sick at the idea she had missed it, missed him concealing injuries.
The room had a single table and two chairs on one side and one on the other. Ming-Hua was guided towards the chair that was by itself, but she stopped walking and couldn’t force her legs to move even if she wanted to. The guard behind her bumped into her and pushed her forward. Ming-Hua stumbled, but stood their ground as much as they could. Willingly sitting was like asking to be hurt, that she wouldn’t mind being asked questions she didn’t really know the answers to even if she had been inclined to give them.
“If it’s all the same to you, I’d rather stand.” She said, trying to exude an aura of nonchalance and knowing she was failing at it.
“Sit.” A rough shove and she lost two more feet as she stumbled to regain her balance. The empty seat laughed at them, and Ming-Hua noted the fasteners to keep her legs in place.
“No, I—“ Their words were cut off with a gasp as five strikes hit their torso and legs, causing Ming-Hua to collapse to the ground. They refused to cry. This wouldn’t be as bad as they had lived through before.
They would make it through whatever nightmare this was, and go back to Ghazan. If he wasn’t suffering the same fate they were. If their answers proved satisfactory enough they were allowed the privilege of not being left alone for days on end.
Rough hands hauled them off the floor and threw them into the seat. Their head lolled, and they saw one of the guards approach with a strip of leather. The White Lotus had stopped questioning them in the third year of their imprisonment, and at the idea that their escape had reset the counter, Ming-Hua panicked.
She knew she would tense from the strikes, which would only make them worse. She would do her best not to make a noise, and now they could use him against her, and all her suffering and loneliness for the past two months would be for nothing. Her breathing became more labored the closer he came until she squeezed her eyes tight. It was better and worse not to know when it was coming.
The sound of threading a strip through a hole, did they have something else with which to alternate strikes?, and a strip was pulled tight against her ribcage. She pressed her lips together, refusing to let any sound escape while they did whatever to her. She could survive this. The pressure never let up, and the sound of the captor behind her made her want to scream. Footsteps went away from her and the door opened and was latched shut.
There was silence, but they knew better than to expect it to last. After their first few sessions, someone had clued their interrogators about the benefits of waiting, how the anticipation would make the prisoner more willing to talk to avoid whatever scenario they had contrived in their head.
Ming-Hua knew these tactics and refused to let them win against her. She knew better than to think about what would happen as she was left alone, but after so long without practice, she found it more and more difficult to handle the increasing panic. It was worse now, because Ghazan was at risk too. Perhaps he had been through this and kept it from her out of some misguided sense of protection.
Even if he was included, she wouldn’t say anything. They had already agreed that he would do the same, and Ming-Hua felt worry build up that he wouldn’t forgive her, or spirits forbid she wouldn’t forgive him, if a session went on too long.
They banished the thoughts. They were unproductive and unhelpful.
Ming-Hua kept trying to twitch her toes, and at the first movement she felt something in her stomach unclench. No matter how many times she had been paralyzed and no worse for wear after, part of her always worried that this time the change would be permanent.
They waited until they had full control of their limbs before attempting to open their eyes. They struggled to sit up from where they had been haphazardly dumped into the chair. Once righted, they looked down to see the leather band fastening them to the backrest of the chair they were seated on.
The door opened at her activity, and a decorated guard sat opposite her while another stayed at exit.
“It wasn’t our intention to frighten you like that.” She said calmly, with a falsely earnest tone. Ming-Hua wasn't an animal, if they wanted to explain something to her, they could. No, they wanted her to be scared.
Ming-Hua glared between the strands of hair that had fallen in front of their face. They knew this tactic too, of pretending to be kind. It hadn’t worked last time either.
She stood and leaned over the table, reaching towards Ming-Hua’s face. The waterbender jerked back. They wouldn’t just sit here and take it, not like they had the last time. Her hand kept coming and Ming-Hua knew their voice was shrill as they screeched, “Don’t touch me!”
The hand withdrew. It was lucky enough to still have all of its fingers attached. “I understand you have issues with strangers and those you don’t personally like. You will be pleased to hear, then, that you will no longer be expected to share a cell with Ghazan. I have been told that you two argue frequently, and he ignores your requests for, well, anything, including silence or staying on his side of your room. I even heard he tripped you, and we can’t have our guests antagonizing one another.”
The meager rice Ming-Hua had eaten only an hour or so earlier threatened to make a reappearance. Disgust at being called a guest. Equal parts terror and anger that they were going to take him away, leaving her alone and at the mercy of a stranger’s touch. Her panic grew.
“To minimize distress, on both our sides, we will reimplement the tranquilizer procedure from your old facility to aid in wash days.” Ming-Hua felt horror well up and their eyes widened, not that, “Furthermore, in deference to your distaste for your current roommate, he will be moved to another facility, quite a ways from here, where he will also be kept in solitary.”
Ming-Hua wished they had beaten her bloody instead of this. She knew this was a possibility, but thought they had more time. He might be gone at this very moment, taken away while she rotted in a cell hundreds of feet below ground, drugged and helpless against her tormentors. She should have killed them both when the soldiers surrounded them instead of letting them take them captive again.
“All of this is, of course, depending on your confirmation that the two of you don’t get along.”
The woman, she had to be the warden in this place, smiled demurely, knowing she had Ming-Hua trapped. Lie and say they didn’t get along, and he’d be taken away. Admit they did and run the risk of him being hurt because of it or still being taken away. They swallowed and muttered, “We’re friendly. He can stay.”
“You’re friendly? That wasn’t the impression we were given. You should elaborate, do you not fight often?” She clasped her hands in front of her and leaned forwards. Ming-Hua wanted to kill her. At Ming-Hua’s continued silence, “Well? I asked a question.”
Their tongue felt heavy and their chest felt tight. All this extra misery was for naught. Their jailers knew. This was a recent development. In their old prison, they had almost exclusively taunted them with the fate of P’li, rarely mentioning either of the men. They tried to rack their brain for what could have been the factor that made them think otherwise, that made them use Ghazan instead of Zaheer as the control piece.
They remembered the car ride to Ba Sing Se and knew without a doubt that it was the little earthbender who had said something. He had never shut up and had told these monsters information he had never even confirmed. It didn’t matter if he was correct, he had no right to share such personal information.
Ming-Hua must have taken too long to answer because the warden sighed, and sternly ordered the guard at the door, “Tell Sai and Huro to ready the transport.”
“No!” Ming-Hua shouted and the woman raised a hand to stop the guard from exiting.
“Then talk.”
She scowled and, with a voice filled with venom, said, “What do you want me to say? You know we’re friendly, we fight. That’s what friends do.”
“I don’t want my people to hear any more of your arguments, so stop with them.” She looked at Ming-Hua, who gave a small nod. “I also do not want any children. Do not give any of my guards a reason to suspect that children would be a concern.” They felt their mouth frown deeply at the second order. “Say that last one out loud, so I know that you understand.”
“I understand.” Ming-Hua replied sullenly, as if she would ever have risked the potential for children.
“Understand what?”
“I understand that we are forbidden to fuck.”
“Crude, but I’ll take it. Are you aware of the consequences that would befall him should you act out?” Ming-Hua shook her head, beyond being separated they hadn’t been told anything else. She was thrown by the sudden change in subject, and the woman sighed theatrically, “No? They should have informed you when you arrived. For starters, the accommodations I mentioned earlier would be put in use, if he wasn’t placed in his former prison. I hear the Southern Ocean is lovely this time of year. He would remain restrained like he is here, if not more so. I also have a no unnecessary beating policy here. Unfortunately, that does not extend to the rest of our compounds as I am sure you are aware, and who is to say what kind of treatment he would receive for injuring their guards and Lord Zuko. I’m not telling you this to upset you, but to inform you that your actions will have consequences for the both of you.
“For yourself, you will be moved to the chamber used during the full moon permanently. Like I said, you would be tranquilized for any procedures that involve caring for you for our safety and your own. If circumstances prove necessary, a collar has been manufactured that would be attached to the additional ring downstairs, since you do not have any arms for additional restraints. If you still prove dangerous, your water ration will be modified and the temperature controls will change to more accurately reflect your other prison.” The calm manner in which the White Lotus member spoke made Ming-Hua want to gouge out her eyes.
Anger and fear warred within her. To hide the latter, she spat, “I am not a dog to be collared and disciplined.”
“You're correct. You are currently worth less than a dog. I would be well within my rights to treat you any way I wished for your crimes against all four nations, the United Republic, and the Avatar herself. When she has recovered, an assessment will be made depending on your behavior here whether or not your bending should be removed considering the magnitude of your crimes. You can pass all this information along to your friend.”
The woman leaned forward once more and Ming-Hua held their breath. She gently pushed their hair behind their ear and out of their face. She sat back and smiled again, “You’re a fast learner. I do suggest you learn to control that tongue of yours, or we may make that behavioral assessment early. You’ll be questioned once a month from here on out until you give us the answers we seek.”
The chair legs scraped along the ground and Ming-Hua flinched at the noise. She walked out of the room, boots clicking smartly against the metal floor. The sentry at the door followed her, and Ming-Hua was left alone.
A single shuddering breath escaped. She wished they had just broken her ribs instead.
——
They left her alone for what felt like hours, strapped to the chair. Each time Ming-Hua felt her breathing hitch, she viciously tried to even it out. She thought she could hear people out in the hall, but part of her knew it was a figment of her imagination. Each time she thought she heard someone, her head swiveled towards the door, only for nothing to change and she was left alone with her thoughts.
He had to know something was wrong, that they weren’t back yet. They hoped he wasn’t worried about them. Ming-Hua could take care of themself and didn’t need or want his concern, as willing as Ghazan was to give it.
Maybe the White Lotus had decided to leave her here for the rest of the day, so the lesson could properly sink in, as though she was a misbehaving child. It wasn’t like this information was new to her. She already knew that her behavior would impact him and that was the primary reason she had yet to attempt to escape, despite being able to guess the best route from her experience with the facility. They would only have one chance. They wouldn’t squander it.
A quiet thunk of a bolt unlatching and Ming-Hua turned to see two guards they vaguely recognized enter.
“And here I thought you had forgotten about me.” She quipped. The words hurt say, scratching up her already dry throat.
They didn’t acknowledge that she had spoken. One of them deftly unbuckled the strap that went across her chest, then knelt and unfastened her ankle restraint from the leg of the chair.
“You may stand.”
She wobbled for only a moment before feeling the strikes she knew were coming. They escorted her out of the room where two more guards joined them into the elevator and down one floor.
Part of Ming-Hua relaxed, the part of her that thought she was still going to be placed back into the solitary cell. They paused and she went to the bathroom before returning to her cell. She was weak with relief at the sight of Ghazan, sweat making his hair stick to his forehead as he stood against the wall. They retethered her and she noticed a higher ring than she had before and sickly remembered the threat of being collared.
Their current leniency was paramount to any escape.
The guards left and the door closed. Ghazan was looking her over quickly, and tired of the distance, tired of the pretend animosity between them, she walked over towards him and laid her head on his chest. The rhythmic thumping of his heart was loud in her ears.
“They know.” She whispered. His hands, which had hung limply at his side reached up to cup her face and look her in the eyes. At his questioning look she elaborated, “The little earthbending brat. He must have said something about us. They already knew. They, they were going to send you away.” Ming-Hua swallowed the lump in her throat at the idea, still as affected by it as she had been earlier. It was unbecoming to be so open, and it was so unlike her, but she couldn’t pretend to care anymore. No one was watching from the door and her face was mostly obscured by his stupidly large hands.
He didn’t try and reassure them with useless promises that he would be here. He knew as well as they did that the White Lotus had all the leverage and the two of them were racing against time. Ghazan wiped under their eyes and over their cheeks, trying to soothe them as best as he could.
“She said they wouldn’t unnecessarily beat us, whatever that means, but all other manipulation tactics are an option.” Ming-Hua tried to sound detached, that she wasn’t affected by the past few hours, but knew it was a lie. She had no hope of escape if he was gone, but any threat to him and she’d behave like an obedient little pet. She’d already proven as much that she was weak but there was no reason for him to do the same. “Promise me, you won’t let a threat to me stop you.”
“Ming-Hua.” He sounded unhappy at the prospect.
“Let go of your earthly ties or whatever the fuck Zaheer said when she,” Her breath hitched. Months later, P’li still was never mentioned. “When she died. I am not worth your freedom.”
He nodded, albeit reluctantly, and Ming-Hua knew it was the best she could expect.
She returned her voice to its normal volume. “I’m cold.”
Ghazan let go of her and grabbed the two blankets and pillows they had at their disposal and laid them next to the wall. “I got a new book.”
He sat down and gestured for Ming-Hua to follow suit. She didn’t hesitate before kneeling down on the cushion and leaning against him. He placed both blankets on her, one around her shoulders and one for the rest of her body.
Ghazan opened the book. They were asleep in only a few minutes, and he shut it and played with their hair.
——
They had already been afforded many luxuries that they weren’t used to from before. Being cleaner, being less than verging on death.
The worst the guards would do is say no if she asked, if the no beating policy was true. Maybe they’d send her to solitary, but it wasn’t like she was asking for a weapon, not overtly.
“Can I have wax crayons and paper?” The guard looked at her like she had grown a second head. That blasted little earthbender had mentioned craft supplies on that trip to Ba Sing Se, and while that never would have been an option before, there was no harm in asking now.
“Wax crayons? Do you have a color preference?” Ming-Hua could tell the guard was sneering.
“I want to draw trees. I’m bored. He gets books.” They pointed out. Ghazan looked up at being called out from where he was doing push ups on the ground.
At this the sentry’s expression morphed into something less mocking and more thoughtful. “I’ll look into it.”
By their evening meal, the request had been approved. Three sheets of paper and a small box of assorted colors were handed to the lavabender when they returned the empty bowls.
“Anything you create will be examined daily to ensure there is no suspicious activity. Words are forbidden. At any point the materials can be taken from you without notice or reason.” The guard read from a script.
Ming-Hua nodded, and Ghazan took the art supplies from the guard.
The White Lotus really were the biggest morons she’d ever met.
——
Ghazan had taught her the script of the sandbenders when they first met, and while she was rusty on their dialect, she thought she remembered the characters and knew that they could be seamlessly incorporated into textures like tree bark. Further, she was certain that Ghazan’s handwriting when he taught her had been wretched, so it should be even less decipherable.
There were slightly fewer guards at night, and darkness would shroud them in an escape. If he had the faucet from the sink running as she went by, Ming-Hua could pull enough water from the plumbing to get them out of there. The only hang up was that they were three stories underground and she had yet to find the stairs. The second floor and the tenth had a layout identical to the third, arguably in the name of efficiency but any moron could use that information to escape.
The elevator was out of the question. Electricity could be cut, and even if Ghazan could find some sort of earth, if he was in the bathroom to get her water, he would be chi-blocked. Irritating, but his own brawling skills were nothing to scoff at— Zaheer had ensured that Ghazan wasn’t defenseless if he had no access to earth. The only other consideration that Ming-Hua could think of was the chains that bound them, but they really weren’t much worse than the plate P’li had. It wouldn’t take much to shear the chain, except they were inspected daily for tampering so it couldn’t really be planned early. A bit of water could be saved from a meal, and it would be enough to break her chains and a lock. It was a simple key mechanism, and was increasingly often kept unlocked if one of them went to the bathroom.
The guards needed to become complacent, so much so anyone in charge of them would fire them, and that involved the two of them being model prisoners.
Ming-Hua resolved to stop with the barbed comments under the guise that they had been intimidated by the unnamed woman who had threatened them and the new promise of multiple interrogations. Ghazan had always been an expert at seeming stupid and earnest. If they could communicate with the drawings, if their handwriting wasn’t too wretched or too obvious, it would work, they were certain.
She spent two days carefully making a tree. She was less adept than she remembered at manipulating writing utensils with her feet. She supposed that was normal, considering the skill had been unused for over a decade.
Say something about your sister. was carefully hidden within the other lines that made up the tree trunk, and Ming-Hua gestured for him to take it when they were finished, having added leaves and grass and a sky to draw attention away from the script. He should recognize it, having grown up with it, but Ming-Hua wasn’t holding their breath and tried to think of alternatives if this wouldn’t work.
Ghazan looked at the drawing for a few minutes before carefully blending the lines of the tree trunk. “You know, when I was a kid my sister taught me that if you smudged the lines together, it would look more realistic.” He flipped the altered drawing back and Ming-Hua smiled at how all the text was gone.
They begrudgingly admitted the tree did look better for it. At their smile, he started to work on smudging the sky. “With what fingers am I supposed to smudge it?”
Despite the annoyance in their voice, Ming-Hua was crowing. He was an only child, and they had a means of communication.
——
Two more full moons passed. Each time Ming-Hua was brought into the bowels of the facility, and each time the cell was exactly as she left it, with the mat pushed into the corner and the pillow lying haphazardly on top.
Sleeping in the cell was harder. The combined power of the moon and the chill of the room meant that Ming-Hua spent most of her time shivering on the floor instead of actually sleeping. Jogging in place did a little to alleviate the discomfort she felt.
It wasn’t even like Ming-Hua could actually bloodbend. Bloodbending needed fingers, proper ones, not the kind that she could form at the end of her tendrils. She had already tried and failed, and this precaution was wholly unnecessary since she wouldn’t ever risk practicing it on Ghazan. Blood clots were common in bloodbending victims, and while she would be willing to risk a rat or guard, he wouldn’t be worth it.
The wax crayons were allowed to come with her, and Ming-Hua didn’t bother trying to code messages into all of them. They needed to look like an actual hobby, one that would have made her old prison more tolerable, and over the course of two months her drawings went from childish to passable. Considering the medium and the fact that while their feet were dexterous, they were still feet at the end of the day, and didn’t have the same fine motor control that hands apparently did, Ming-Hua was proud of themself.
Their shared cell was similarly cold, but Ghazan had started giving her both blankets when she slept during the day. They still alternated who was awake, unwilling to let their guard down even after months of captivity and the promise they’d be allowed to stay together.
The one time they had asked about Zaheer, they were met with silence. He couldn’t be dead. One of the sentries had lorded it over them that P’li was dead, that they were lucky not to meet the same fate, and it was only the thought of escape and the requirement that they be model prisoners, perhaps even pretending to be cowed and subdued, that stopped Ming-Hua from snapping back a retort.
Ghazan seemed to have an easier time of it. He mentioned before their recapture how he had spent his 13 years pretending to be incompetent and stupid, that he would work out and ask dumb questions, not expecting much of a response. It had resulted in some of the guards willingly chatting with him for longer than it took to get a tray of food or pass the bucket that functioned as a latrine through the bars, which was the only real way for him to pass time during the day besides working out.
Ming-Hua did not have the same practice. Her imprisonment had only soured her temperament, with both P’li and Ghazan saying she was sharper than they remembered. Her insults had gotten more pointed and creative. Even her voice had changed to match the negative atmosphere of the volcano.
He was always the go-to contact inside their cell. When giving food or water, he was the one they talked to. When asking about the bathroom, they deferred to him. He traded books and asked for paper, and Ming-Hua knew part of it was because he could actually take the supplies from them, and part of it was that he seemed more approachable.
That was better, anyway, since if they were more interested in her, they would have noticed the calligraphy hidden in her drawings.
Ming-Hua kept making stories about the guards and telling them to Ghazan. They could hear snippets of conversation down the hall both in their moon prison and the main one, and were shocked at how many of these people had spouses or children when they were all so repulsive. Their stories became more about the guard’s thoughts instead of the slice of life, and when one pair got into an argument that they had been anticipating for weeks, Ming-Hua smirked. The taller woman would patiently listen to the man talk for hours, barely getting a word in edgewise despite trying. It was when he started talking about the unnaturalness of another White Lotus member’s relationship that she had finally cracked and shouted enough that at the other end of the hall, Ming-Hua raised an eyebrow.
——
Three more months passed. The guards had taken and inspected each drawing, but not before Ghazan had carefully smoothed out each of the characters of his native tongue. A small spike of anxiety filled her each time they grabbed a sheet of paper and scrutinized it, but they must have been unaware of Ghazan’s upbringing or were just ignorant to the Earth Kingdom minority, because they never recognized the letters.
Ghazan never mentioned if they questioned him like they consistently questioned her when she was taken away. If he was forced to kneel on rice facing the wall for hours on end, forbidden to see what was happening behind him, but hearing the guards move and pick things up or seeing them flicker in and out of his peripheral vision, trying to determine what was considered a necessary beating and if it was coming at any time. If his meals were skipped when she wasn’t there. If the environmental controls in the cell were modified to mimic a desert. He never mentioned it, and Ming-Hua knew better than to ask. It wouldn’t do any good to find out he had been forced to stand until he passed out.
Ming-Hua was demure any time the White Lotus guards asked them to do anything. They were quiet when left with a bowl of rice and no water to make a utensil. They even answered some of the constant questions thrown their way, like How many more Red Lotus members were there and What were your plans with Avatar Korra. Their answers of I don’t know and We were to end the Avatar cycle were not well received even if they were truthful. When they did escape, neither Ming-Hua or Ghazan would attempt such a feat again. Not without P’li or Zaheer, and they had no idea where he was. If they managed to escape, Zaheer’s location would become so classified they would have to spend the rest of their life trying to find him. It was possible. They’d consider it after he abandoned them, which was more than he deserved.
——
No one ever locked the door when one of the cell’s occupants went to the bathroom. It was shut, and with the water bender’s armless state, that was considered good enough since she couldn’t pull it open. After a week of consistent behavior, and four days before the next full moon, at the latest casual insult to her intelligence Ming-Hua asked Ghazan if he was ready. There were only two possible outcomes to their escape attempt: they would escape, or they would die. Failure meant that they would be separated and collared like an ill behaving pet. Failure was not an option.
Four guards were stationed in the hall, two by the elevator and two by the door. When one of them went to the bathroom, the two typically stationed by the elevator would be the escort, leaving Ming-Hua only two guards to deal with.
The next day they ate slowly, and pretended to drink all four glasses of water. The guards rarely bothered watching to ensure that it was actually consumed, as their routine never differed, and the food never changed. Four glasses worth of water was pathetic, but it was enough for Ming-Hua’s purposes of shearing her restraints, opening the door and eliminating the guards in the way. She hid it under the cot when Ghazan handed back the dishware.
He had to get her water. If she had enough ammunition, she could get both of them out of there, even if he wasn’t able to bend. Ghazan would stall, wearing out as much time on his chi-blocking before he washed his hands thoroughly. Ming-Hua was confident that they could pull plenty of water from the toilet and the sink to escape, as much as the source made their nose scrunch with distaste.
She was just tall enough to see through the door, and knew where each guard stood. She sheared the chain connecting her legs together at each cuff, using a pillow to muffle the sound of the metal hitting the ground. The less there was to trip on, the better. She glanced at the door, and breathed a sigh of relief that none of them had noticed. She crept to the side wall to see through the window. A single shard of ice zoomed towards his neck and Ming-Hua ignored the clench in their stomach at the sick sound of skin puncturing. His death was regrettable but necessary.
Wasting no time, they did the same to his companion, who was still reeling from the shock of seeing her coworker collapse out of nowhere. A garbled shout and Ming-Hua used what was left of her meager rations to pull the door open and move out into the hall. If things were going to plan, Ghazan should have had enough water to form decent arms.
At the one sentry’s yell, Ming-Hua could see the guard who stood outside the bathroom start reacting, looking at her before turning to the bathroom. She ran, lungs burning, towards them, and there was a loud thud from inside the bathroom, and Ming-Hua had to assume it was the Ghazan winning against the guard inside, even chained as he was.
The door pushed open and even from twenty feet away Ming-Hua could feel the sing of water and pulled. Two arms that she had missed dearly formed at her side, and she used her new appendages to grab him and slam him against the wall, his fire blasts woefully ineffective against the brute force. He crumpled and while she didn’t hope he was dead, she did hope that he stayed down. Rounding around the door, she saw Ghazan standing with a grin on his face, nose bloody, and the other sentry laid haphazardly on the floor. Four neat water whips freed his limbs, and she made a note to heal him later.
Once, Ming-Hua had appeared as pitiful as they could. Rarely did they want others to view them as weak or scared, but asking a guard fearfully What would happen if there was a fire had yielded information that should never have been disclosed to a prisoner. None of the four sentries in the floor had managed to reach for an alarm button, and the longer they could go without alarm being raised, the better.
Six minutes later, running up the stairs, the glass window revealed they were surrounded by an open field bathed in the yellow of artificial lights, scattered by rainfall. Ming-Hua was giddy. They couldn’t have chosen a better night. The stairway led immediately to the outside, and she looked at Ghazan.
“How much longer until you can bury this place?” They asked, impatience creeping into their voice. The thirty minute time frame should have been well past the halfway mark, and they only had a few more minutes before someone noticed the lack of activity on the third floor.
He glanced at the concrete wall around them. They watched him flex his fingers, “I’ve got nothing. At least a couple more minutes.”
They both knew this was a possibility, and so far it was a miracle nothing had gone severely wrong. Her arms felt solid, and part of her forgot the freeing feeling of not being reliant on someone else’s kindness to just exist. A set of guards should have been going to make another round on the third floor, and they’d see the carnage and sound the alarm.
Ming-Hua pressed their lips together, thinking. “I think we should run.”
Ghazan looked at them for only a few seconds before nodding. “Don’t let them take us back.”
Ming-Hua lifted themself so their faces were level. If this was it they wanted a proper goodbye this time. Ghazan caressed their face and touched his forehead to theirs, looking at their dark eyes. Ming-Hua closed the distance between them before pulling away much too soon.
She pushed on the door and it sprung open. Disgusted with the ease in which they were kept imprisoned despite the shoddy security, Ming-Hua stepped outside. Immediately she sensed the water around her, and refortified her water arms. Ghazan followed suit, and the two of them ran.
An alarm sounded, and Ming-Hua cursed. She had known their luck couldn't have lasted forever, but it had been so convenient. A large searchlight started scanning the field, and they tried running faster. Earth walls started forming around them and the two were forced to a halt.
Please have your bending back. Ming-Hua looked at Ghazan worriedly. He clenched his fingers and stomped his foot against the ground. The wall in front of them crumbled and they darted through it. The guards who managed to make it to their location while they had been surrounded looked surprised. Ming-Hua grabbed two of them and tossed them aside, while Ghazan threw giant rocks that morphed into lava at the other three. They all darted out of the way, flinging fire and earth at them. It was unfortunate for them that it was raining.
Ice shards started to pelt them, drawn straight from the rain, creating cuts where they were ineffectively blocked. One of the earthbenders raised a shield over all three, while Ghazan melted the ground around them. Obvious panic covered all their faces, and the two fugitives used the distraction to hurtle themselves towards what looked like the edge of the compound. Every twenty feet he would turn, creating a large pool of lava to prevent anyone from chasing them. Ghazan did not use any of the finesse he had in Ba Sing Se, blowing out the wall as quickly as possible. They ran through the wall.
They used their bending to move faster, long arms allowing faster movements and the earth rumbling next to her as he used it like a sail. When they were far enough away, they switched back to running to lose the obvious trail they had created. Another ten minutes of running had them coming across a field of crops, with a farmhouse nearby. A truck sat in the driveway. Ming-Hua hoped this farmer, like most, kept their keys in the ignition to not lose them. After all, who would steal their vehicle all the way out here?
Her lungs and legs were screaming at her. Jogging in place with bound ankles had nothing in comparison to running across a muddy field in the rain. She wrenched open the driver side door, and saw the keys. “Get in!”
When both of them were securely in the truck, Ming-Hua turned the key in the ignition and quickly reversed into the road, heading in the opposite direction of the compound. An hour of driving and they’d only passed through two sleepy towns, and the White Lotus had yet to appear on their trail.
As the night dragged on, the adrenaline started to wear off and Ming-Hua began to think more clearly. “We need to change clothes and ditch the car.”
The ones they were wearing were clearly meant for prisoners, even with the modifications made to her outfit. The sky was starting to lighten, and the incoming day made her nervous. Light would mean that their jailers would find it easier to find them.
At the next village, they parked the car on the side of the road, stole the plates, and searched for a loaded clothes line. Finding something in roughly their size and with long sleeves, Ming-Hua made quick work of changing clothes. He used a small piece of lava to light both of their prison uniforms on fire.
Ghazan had guessed they were in the southern part of the Earth Kingdom and Ming-Hua had no reason to suspect otherwise. Scouring the village revealed another car, and this time Ghazan drove, zigzagging across the countryside. Another vehicle swap a few hours later, and both of them felt the exhaustion from the previous day creeping in on them.
If they could get to a city, it would be easier to find any contacts they had left. If they knew exactly where they were, they could find a Red Lotus safe house. If they weren’t recaptured by the end of the day. She was tired of ifs.
They were lucky enough or Ghazan really just knew his way around the Earth Kingdom to be driving through the middle of the woods. Ming-Hua didn’t care which was the truth, she was just grateful that hiding the car and sleeping properly would be possible. They pulled off the road and they switched seats so Ming-Hua was driving. Ghazan carefully smoothed the ground where the tires made tracks. When it was far enough off the road, he formed an earthen shield around it so it was less visible from the road. Ming-Hua waited for him to finish, and tried to think of edible things they could catch.
If they could find a good water source, Ming-Hua was more than capable of fishing and making dinner. They hiked together until Ming-Hua heard the telltale bubbling of a stream. Five minutes later and Ming-Hua looked at a solid brook, definitely large enough to have some sort of wildlife in it. Even without a pan, they could manage to cook.
They toed off their stolen shoes and stepped into the cool water, relishing the way it washed over their feet. Ghazan huffed a laugh and they turned to look at him. He looked at her fondly, and the part of Ming-Hua that never got used to the easy way in which he showed affection was flustered. Noticing the growing blush on her cheeks, his mouth widened into a grin.
“What are you smiling about?”
He stepped forward, careful to avoid getting his feet wet. A hand reached up to tuck her hair behind her ear once more. She tried to glare at him, but found it difficult to keep a smile off her own face.
“Maybe I just like looking at you, did you ever think of that?”
Ming-Hua let out a snort of laughter. He placed a chaste kiss on their cheek before stepping back.
“I’ll go get some firewood so you can cook anything if you catch it.”
She nodded focus turning back to the stream to see if she could find anything in it. A bit of silver moved in the corner of her eye and she snatched the fish, plucking it from the water and onto an ice hook.
She thought she’d make a good fisherwoman on some tiny almost forgotten island somewhere. Ghazan could be a house not-husband.
Smiling to herself, Ming-Hua tried to find another fish.
She started creating a list of all the things she would want about their new home. The first requirement would be that it had to be someplace warm.