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The Fire Nation was built for war.

But it doesn’t necessarily mean what people usually think it means. When people think about a country build for war they think about “progress” – about new technology, about organization, about always-ready soldiers and patriotism. About free people. Happy people.

When Norton Campbell says his country is built for war, he means something much different.

When Norton says the Fire Nation was built for war, he means something much more cruel. He is talking about the deliberate way the government denies them medicine and hospitals, denies them healers and medics. He is talking about the poverty ghosting most cities, the people starving in the streets as the capitol bathes itself in useless luxury. When Norton Campbell says his home country is built for war he is pointing the deliberate way every firebender too poor to afford a proper master either ends deep down the mines looking for metals and gems or ends up in the forges, making weapons upon weapons for spirits know how many years.

Or they can be soldiers.

Norton Campbell is a soldier.

He hasn’t always been one. But always destined to be.

He never had a father to speak of – bastard fucked off in the moment he knew his mother was pregnant, probably looking for another hole to fill and abandon as soon as commitment appeared too. And his mother…

Well.

His mother was a non-bender, a kind woman with dark eyes and ever darker hair, making do by washing clothes all day and all night, scrambling her way to take care of a child all alone. She loved Norton to pieces.

Until he turned out to be a bender.

Things got so much more complicated after that. Benders without someone to teach them are volatile at best and downright dangerous at worst. Or so the Fire Nation says. Years later, Norton still wonders if that’s true.

He was thrown into the mines quite young, ripped from the arms of his crying mother as they threw some pocket money in her face, as if it was a proper compensation for taking away her child.

‘It’s a thank you for your services.’

That’s what they had said. As if that was all Norton was – a commodity. As if that was all his mother was – womb service.

‘Too young to be a soldier yet,’ they had labelled him. ‘too powerful to be left alone. Explosion service.’

He was barely more than a child, already being used as a disposable matchstick – cutting material expenses and well, he was a firebender right?

‘You’re supposed to be fireproof. If something goes wrong that’s on you.’

Scared. Alone.

Always, always on the dark.

Years made Norton bitter – living under the iron clad hand of the retired soldier that commanded the mines would do that to a person. He had to learn to swallow his pride, his anger, his grief, turn himself into a powerful weapon so he wouldn’t be discarded like so many were.

Unfortunately, he was never quite able to quell his rebellious heart.

And who could blame him for hating the country that had overlook him? Had taken him from the arms of his mother, had thrown him into dark mines to breath smoke, ash and gunpowder the whole day?

Norton was a brewing storm, ready to thunder down at the first opportunity.

When he reached sixteen, they took him away from the mines. Whispers run fast – they fear the way he bends, fear the aggression of his movements, the darkness of his eyes.

They meant to break him, to make him obedient and pliant.

A good soldier boy.

*

If the years in the mines made Norton bitter, the years on military turned him into pure vitriol.

At sweet seventeen he is too young to understand what military training is doing to him – how they weaponize his pent-up anger, his grief and pain into aggression. How they turn his justified rage into fire, fire, fire.

Years fly fast under the bullshit the Fire Nation feeds him – of how the whole war is for his country benefit, for his honor, for his comrades.

They fail to see how he doesn’t care about any of those.

What he truly cares for is the glint of metal weaponry at his commander’s hands every night he thinks about scaping, in benders much more powerful than he is that could strike him down without much thought.

Actually, that’s not true.

They aren’t more powerful than he is – they just have more numbers, more training. Pampered kids playing war, people that could go back home anytime and still get medals, honor and riches for life over their services done to the Fire Nation.

Norton can’t.

He probably doesn’t even have a home to come back to anymore.

All his squadron keeps repeating he should be proud, that he will probably be promoted soon – a lie, of course. Only rich kids who have direct ties with the royal family get to be generals, commanders, admirals. Privileges aren’t reserved to the people who come from the slums like he does, that reek of metal and gunpowder, who don’t know proper writing or correct grammar.

Who lack masters or teachers.

People like him are the ones that fire eats alive.

And Norton won’t deny that at this point, he would be glad to be reduced to ashes.

But fate is a funny little thing, as fickle as the fire Norton wields. If you go around asking to be burned enough times, someone will eventually answer.

At his twenties – Norton has no idea twenty what, time in war is too muddled for him to have a clear track of his own age in mind – Norton is more sure of how many bending movements it takes to kill a man than how old he is. He knows very few things at the time, if he is being honest. The way his own bending sizzles on his hands and feet, crackling with energy he is unable to properly control. Wild and angry like he is. He knows the movements of swords, lances, arrows. He knows how to evade water whips, ice shards, the tides. He knows how to countermeasure quicksand, boulders, flying debris. He knows how to turn air blades into fire tornados, how to make the ground too hot for the airbenders to step down, how to make them too tired to stay airborne.

The very few things Norton Campbell knows at the moment are all related to killing, killing, killing.

Honor and glory to a nation he doesn’t care for.

It feels pathetic, empty.

Why is he fighting a war he doesn’t care for?

He wanted to stay alive.

But does he now?

*

When Norton seriously thinks about it, there was no other way for things to have happened.

He was bound to give up fighting in a war he didn’t believe in, to abandon the troops he had no attachment to, to send the Fire Nation to hell for what they did to him. To his mother. To the world.

He can’t say he cares too much about the state the world is in, to be frank. But he is tired of being part of destroying it.

He is tired of mindless slaughter. He is tired of going to sleep and being plagued by the screams of the people he killed, he is tired of the stench of charred flesh, stagnant blood, shit and piss that seem to follow him everywhere.

He is also tired of the way his own comrades look at him.

 Less of a human because he never had the proper education. Less of a man because he never really had a father. Less of a firebender because he never had a proper master.

‘Too much power, too little control. This animal will end burning us all.’

Always less.

So be it.

The opportunity comes sooner than later – they were to lay siege to a fortress city on the Earth Kingdom, a small but fearsome place secluded at the foot of mountain range, protected by many benders and the natural topography of the site.

He could use the fight, the smoke that would raise from firebending, the dust from the boulders and rocks being lifted, of sand being bended and, if he gets lucky, he can finally, finally be free.

It’s almost funny how dreams can become nightmares in the blink of an eye.

The battlefield is just as messy as Norton imagined it to be, if not more. Earthbenders are just as stubborn as the rocks they move, just as tenacious too and it soon becomes clear that laying siege to their home wouldn’t be as easy as their commander predicted. The first day quickly turns into bloodshed – broken bones and crushed corpses a common occurrence on Fire Nation troops, burnt limbs and charred skulls abundant on the earthbender’s side.

Distantly, it occurs to Norton that he should be horrified of the sight. Unfortunately, the only thought that comes is that he already saw worse.

It takes a couple of tries to get things right. He takes cover behind a forgotten boulder in the middle of the battlefield, ditching his armor and arranging it in a way that could pass as just another corpse.

The Fire Nation can’t afford to bring corpses back – or take proper time for burial, a quick check to see who is alive and could still be used was more than enough for them – Norton remembers, half bitter, half in glee. Any time put between him and the other soldiers is already good enough.

It doesn’t take too long for the other soldiers to spot the lack of wild and all-consuming fire, the tell-tale blue dotted bending completely absent – but, by the time they do, Norton was already long gone. Long strides and quick steps were allies now more than ever, eating away the miles that separated him from freedom.

To hell with the Fire Nation. To hell with the army, with the war.

Norton hopes they all burn.

*

One of the most remarkable traits of the messenger hawks is how fast they travel, even when the news attached to their backs should be too heavy of a burden. In less than two days word runs around all the Fire Nation troops – the deserter that firebends as aggressively as he fights, flames speckled with blue and wild, animalistic eyes.

Norton snorts when he sees the first poster with his face, the bounty they put on his head. It is, indeed, pretty accurate. He couldn’t care about what they have to say – what he, indeed, cares about, is how much difficult his traveling would be now.

But well, when you live with enough blood in your hands to make a whole river, how many more lives to truly make him a sinner? At least in hell he should be free from the bullshit the Fire Lord spits, from a decadent Nation built upon stepping stones made of their residents suffering – while, of course, the capitol bathes in gold.

What else is new?

He discreetly tears the poster down, hiding the remnants under his tell-tale red robes – Fire Nation red robes. Norton made a quick detour to a village long under Fire Nation’s control, stealing a few items of Earth Kingdom clothing, the green and yellow fabric making him passable enough for a civilian.

Or so he hopes.

Old habits die hard – there is a certain way each of his steps is a tad bit too close to marching, a posture that clearly screams danger, screams bending. The first few days are met with the disgust from Earth Kingdom folk. Thankfully, they seem to mostly think he is just young and stupid, mimicking the Fire Nation soldiers to escape the scalding flames of their fire whips, a simple boot-licker trying to get on their good side.

He silently prays for his lucky stars for the fluke to hold.

Days pass quietly, Norton keeping his head as down as possible as he travels, a life made with the little coin left from military and stealing. It’s not pleasant, it’s not the kind of life Norton wants to make for himself. But he is alive and at the moment, very little else matters.

He would part ways with the Fire Nation. Maybe not now, maybe not even this year. But one day he would. And if he needs to burn the whole Fire Nation down for that, so be it.

Norton is not afraid to die. He never was.

Unfortunately for Norton, the Fire Nation was never known for taking prisoners.

The bounty over his head grows – he is wanted dead or alive, it doesn’t matter much for them – and traveling quietly gets harder and harder. People are desperate for an opportunity to get their hands on a Fire Nation soldier, even more so if they can get a pretty nice sum over the kill.

He faces a few earthbenders who get scared easily enough when they see his blue-speckled flames, running away with scorched robes and tails between their legs. Norton resists the bitter urge to laugh when they do – the Fire Nation is feared enough, hated enough, that just a few displays of wild firebending will send everyone scurrying away.

Absolutely delightful.

When they come back, Norton is waiting for them with fire dancing on his finger tips and a too confident smirk. What he wasn’t waiting for was the Fire Nation troops that came with them.

Norton immediately knows there are too many of them to fight off. Scaring a few earthbenders with flames is one thing, it’s easy enough to singe their hair, their clothes and call it a day – their own fear works much better than Norton’s bending abilities. Firebenders, on the other hand, are a much different talk.

They know his tricks, his ins and outs, know how to exploit his weakness and turn his strong points against him.

He is outnumbered, outplayed. It’s either fighting tooth and nail for one more day or accepting that he has to pray for them to end it quickly.

Norton knows they won’t.

Taking a deep breath, Norton readies his stance, plants his feet a little more firmly in the ground – it’s not too hard to guess that they will try to overpower him with a barrage of fire as the earthbenders circle him, bending stone so he can’t get away. He sidesteps the first few fire blasts thrown his way, redirects the others to burn right at the earthbender’s toes.

He moves quickly, efficiently, feet conjuring red-blue fire every time they hit the ground, scorching enough to keep his pursuers as far away as he can. He needs an escape plan and he needs it now. Firebending doesn’t last forever – as much as he can make the fire himself, as good as his stamina is, Norton can’t last moving forever, can’t duck and dodge everything being thrown on his way.

He steps back once, twice, left arm coming down in an arch of blue-speckled flames that act as a shield against the soldier’s blasts, right foot kicking up in a swift movement that sends one of the earthbenders down with a howl, patting his robes as he desperately tries to put the fire down.

Maybe he has a chance. Maybe he can even make it more or less unscathed –

A quick boulder hits him square on the chest and everything comes tumbling down all too fast. The ground bellow him turns liquid and Norton can feel himself sinking, can fell the blistering heat of the soldier’s fire way too close.

Everything else is a blur. He remembers acting on instinct, remembers the loud sound of electricity crackling and a flash of blue. He remembers hearing the cries of soldiers, of earthbenders. He remembers a plume of smoke rising from whatever he had done, the putrid smell of charred flesh and burnt hair. He remembers a flash of fire too quick for him to avoid, too close and too sudden, searing his face, his arm, his whole side.

Norton screams.

*

Norton comes back to consciousness very slowly. A dull throb on his head makes impossible to think straight – impossible to put the world into focus, impossible to move properly. The newfound light was blinding, making Norton dizzy and nauseous.

His whole body hurts more than it has any right to, making Norton wince at the slightest movement. He feels feverish, wrong. He isn’t entirely sure why.

Where are his comrades? Where is the crackling of the Fire Nation campfires? The smell of food, of leather or months old sweat from the other soldiers?

Reality comes back in a flash and Norton curses, scrambling to a more seated position the best as he could. The world spins with his motions and Norton, more on instinct than on anything else, knows something is deeply, deeply wrong.

He feels out of balance, out of depth. Things seem both too far away and too close all at once – making it impossible for Norton to understand where he is, what he is seeing. And on top of that, everything hurts so much that he can barely keep himself straight, limbs shaking with exhaustion from the mere task of keeping himself sitting.

Half of the world is missing and Norton can’t understand why.  He curls into himself, unwilling to accept the reality he knows sooner or later will come knocking.

It can’t be. He refuses to believe it. His breath speeds up, more and more panicked by the minute, tears trickling down as he tries to get his surroundings into shape, as he tries to make sense of what he is seeing.

Or rather, what he isn’t.

His left eye is gone, isn’t it? They burned him.

He covers his mouth with a hand – his right hand, the left one hurts so much and shakes so badly he isn’t sure if he will ever be able to use it again – resisting the urge of vomiting and screaming both.

It should be surprising that the Fire Nation would treat him this way. It isn’t. It should be horrifying how capable of destruction they are. It isn’t. Norton is more than intimate of the destruction power of the Fire Nation, why would he be surprised? Nonetheless, it still strikes deep. It’s Norton being betrayed by his own country. It’s Norton being betrayed by his own compatriots – man and woman he saved and killed for in battle innumerous times.

But what haunts Norton the most is how is he going to survive now? Between pain and blindness, between blistered skin half-melted and the lack of proper care, how will Norton be able to live on? How is he going to bend, to flee?

He is a dead man waiting for the final blow.

How long has he been out anyway? Where exactly is he? How long until the next squadron finds him?

Distantly, Norton knows he somehow pulled himself up, that he is walking – or maybe dragging himself around would be a much more appropriate term, since his left leg refuses to cooperate properly – desperation and fear fueling his steps.

Where are the soldiers that should be stationed to stop him? He waits with battered breath for the horns to announce his attempt to scape, for the next few fire blasts that would burn him into a crisp.

He chuckles to himself, half-delirious when he remembers the mines, remembers the soldier that told him he was supposed to be fireproof. Norton shivers when the movement jostles his burns. What a joke. What a nightmare.

He isn’t entirely sure of how long he walks – he isn’t sure if he wants to know, either. It could have been minutes. It could have been hours. He can’t see enough to tell the difference between terrain. He isn’t conscious enough to try to guess either.  

They are probably just having a good laugh over him, aren’t they? Waiting for the right time to hit him, betting over how long he can stay standing. Anger fuels Norton’s steps when he comes to the conclusion that he is nothing more than a toy for them. He won’t fall. He won’t fail. Nothing can take him down. He keeps repeating it to himself like a mantra, as if he can convince his own body with words alone. The only thing that makes Norton stop is the sigh before him, when he finally understands why he wasn’t being followed or burned alive.

It can’t be true.

Norton feels faint just from looking at it. He is back to the point where he had been ambushed by Fire Nation and eartbenders and damn. He isn’t entirely sure of what he is seeing until he approaches the site, remnants of fight still visible in place, remnants of what once had been people too. It almost looks like they had been struck by –

Norton laughs. He laughs so hard he feels bile on his throat, until he has to stop and heave, until there is nothing else on his stomach. Of course that of all the things he can get from being a firebender, he is cursed with bending lightning.

Before he could pass out, he briefly wonders what the rich kids that always told him he lacked the talent for firebend would say now.

It’s with no small amount of satisfaction that he comes to the conclusion that they would never be able to do what he did.

*

The next time Norton comes to himself, he feels even worse than the first. He can feel himself burning up, can feel the way his wounds slowly drip liquid as the blistered flesh breaks.

Disgusting.

Where is he again? What is he doing outside? Where is he running to? When will the next troops come to get him?

He doesn’t know.

All Norton knows is that he refuses to die here. He refuses to be easy prey.

Deliriously, Norton nods to himself as he comes to the conclusion that what he needs at the moment is, of course, a new set of robes. He can’t stand to flee from the Fire Nation like this. He discards his clothing with no small amount of difficulty, throwing the remnants of it somewhere as far away as he can manage – it’s probably too burned up to be useful anyway. He doesn’t know for sure. He can’t bring himself to look at his own body to check. He hastily throws the least damaged clothing over himself– which, of course, happens to be Fire Nation soldier robes.

He is unable to tie it. Unable to properly put it into place. It doesn’t matter. He has to keep walking.

He falls once. Twice.

Fuck.

It can’t end here. He refuses to let it end here. He has to keep walking, has to get away –

He pulls himself up by sheer willpower, body screaming in protest. With labored breath, half-crawling, half-walking, he puts himself in march. If there is one thing the Fire Nation taught him, it is that he has to endure.

*

The third time Norton Campbell wakes up, he refuses to open his eyes. He knows his body well enough to know his fever had come down – either because infection was going to kill him and he couldn’t feel the fever anymore or because the worst of it was over. Being a firebender and significantly more resistant to fire, he prayed for the spirits to allow him to be right, allow him to live another day.

Getting up is a slow and arduous process – he can’t properly see what he is doing due the lack of sight on his left eye, can’t properly feel the nerves of his left hand due to the damage made by fire. His arm still hurts enough to be felt, so Norton knows he will, at the very least, be able to bend again.

One day.

He would have to learn to live with a whole new set of difficulties now but that’s alright. He is alive and, for now, that’s good enough.

As he bitterly thinks how funny it is to be such a walking contradiction, to hate himself as badly as he does and yet still strive to live another day, he loses track of time. It comes as surprise when he hears the noisy sound of a nearby river and it’s only then that Norton notices how thirsty he is.

It’s a wonder he is still standing.

He lucked out with his one – here is what seems to have once upon a time been a hunting shack earthbent into being, now too old and too shabby to have someone living there. It’s perfect. Close enough to water, a roof over his head.

He could make do with that.

Before he could even entertain the idea of entering it, an abnormally strong gust of air knocks him down on his ass, solid weight pressing down his chest as someone locks his arms in place with their legs, hands around his throat.

Norton is unable to do much, eyes tearing up with the urge to scream, finding himself looking into furious stormy blue eyes that belong to a face half hidden by a hoodie. The person over him smiles with no little amount of malice, pressing down his windpipe with glee.

Someone way too happy to get rid of a Fire Nation soldier.

Norton can’t even fault them for that. He has done enough to deserve it under his years of military. The Fire Nation itself even more so. Who would be stupid enough to not take up the chance of easy revenge?

He closes his eyes in resignation and it is with no little amount of surprise that he feels the hands being lifted from his throat, legs quickly being retreated from his torso. When he opens his eyes, he is met with the same stormy blue eyes – now horrified as the person looks at him.

“What have they done to you?”

What had they done to him, indeed.

*

The next time Norton Campbell wakes up, he feels so much better that for the split of a second, he wonders if he passed to the spirit world in this sleep.

He makes an attempt to get up, body weak after spending so much time on the move, injured and without food or water. By all means, Norton should be dead now. He can more or less recall a few bits and pieces of the journey that brought him to the edge of a river where he was attacked by –

Norton gasps, rabbit-like heartbeat and too little air getting into his lungs as the past few days’ events come rushing into him – he is not in the army anymore, he is badly burned, he just got knocked down by what surely looked like…

“Easy, easy,” the man in question rushes to his side, a small wooden bowl in hand that smells so good it makes Norton’s head spin. “come on, let’s eat a bit first.”

Norton doesn’t find into himself the will to complain when the hooded stranger brings the bowl to his lips, chiding him every time he tries to eat too fast, take a too big gulp. He is too hungry to care for the time being.

The man sighs, blue eyes closing for a second before quietly grumbling, “We have all time in the world, you can drink it slowly.”

It’s only when Norton tries to arch a challenging eyebrow that he notices that, outside of the obvious, there is something wrong with his face. Almost as if the stranger had –

He brings a hand to his left eye, instead finding soft cloth in place. It takes Norton by surprise and, of course, immediate suspicion. He could understand feeding a prisoner but bandaging him? That’s a whole other story.

Norton can feel electricity crackling around him as he takes a deep breath, ready to fight the strange man, fire dancing on his fingertips. He will probably make Norton work for him as some sort of sick payment for not being thrown to the Fire Nation troops, compensation for the bounty he didn’t collect. That’s just how things work.

The hooded man looks at Norton’s half-sit position, the way fire dances within his fingers and, instead of bashing Norton’s head against the shack’s walls like he expected, he laughs. He laughs as if Norton is the funniest thing he ever saw, as if his firebending is a joke, as if the electricity dancing around him poses no problem at all.

Instead of killing Norton in the spot, like any other sensible person would, the stranger gently blows at him.

Whatever Norton expected, it surely was not the strong gust of wind that extinguishes his flames as if they were never there to begin with.

An airbender?!

“No way.” Norton whispers more to himself than to anybody else, hands coming to rub at his right eye a few times, as if it would make the hooded man in Earth Kingdom clothing disappear from his sight.

“Ah yes,” the guy pulls down his hoodie, the blue arrow marking the mastery of the air element a bright tattoo against his skin, partially hidden by long brown hair. His smile is razor sharp, dangerous. This is not someone carelessly showing his bending skills. It’s a clear threat.  “and if you don’t want me to throw you back into the river, you should put that out.”

Norton gulps, suddenly hyperaware of how laughably easy it would be for this airbender to kill him.

Fire can’t survive without oxygen.

Neither can Norton.

*

 Norton makes his presence scarce for the next few days. Which mostly means he doesn’t talk, doesn’t move, doesn’t do anything really. It hurts to admit – much more than Norton is ready to acknowledge – but he is afraid.

He is afraid of his bending being out of control. He is afraid of the effortless way the airbender bends, the graceful way he moves around their shared shack. He is afraid of how much power the airbender has over him too.

The hooded man never explicitly said it, but Norton knows he came too close to death. Way closer than any human should. He is in deep debt with the airbender – one that only keeps adding up with every change of bandage, with every time he is pinned down to apply the strong-smelling paste over his unseeing eye, with every warm meal, every night spent in the airbender’s company.

Norton is not sure if he wants to be there when it’s time for the man to collect.

Nonetheless, he stays. Where would he go? With a bound over his head, with the killing of Fire Nation soldiers and Earth Kingdom citizen alike, he is probably worth a small fortune.

He wonders if the airbender knows how much money he is missing by keeping Norton alive. He wonders if the airbender actually knows who Norton is. Knows what he has done. He wonders many, many things. None of them are pleasant.

Norton loses track of time inside the dimly lit shack. How many days has he been under the airbender’s care now? He doesn’t know.

But funnily enough, losing track of time inside an abandoned shack deep into the heart of the Earth Kingdom feels much different than loosing track of time in the military.

He supposes it’s the lack of killing.

Maybe it’s how a stranger, someone whose name he doesn’t even know, treats him better than his home country – ulterior motives me damned.

Norton has a complicated relationship with the contradictions of his thoughts.

He had been mulling things over for quite a while now, back supported by the stone walls of their shabby shelter, when the airbender, quiet as a ghost, sits by his side.

He doesn’t say a word. Norton doesn’t either. He closes his eye, taking a deep and steading breath, readying himself for…

He isn’t sure of what exactly. But it can’t be good.

Right?

“The Fire Nation is looking for you.” the conversational tone makes Norton shiver, goosebumps on exposed skin. The airbender is clearly unconcerned as he continues, “You have a pretty nice sum over your head, did you know that?”

Norton nods, unwilling to speak. Unwilling to give the airbender the satisfaction of seeing him break.

“You’re nearly unrecognizable now, so I guess that shouldn’t be much of a problem,” the airbender mulls quietly, fingers rhythmically tapping over his knee. “I couldn’t help with the scarring. Or with your eye. But the bandage can come out today, I believe, so you will be able to see for yourself.”

Norton hits his head lightly against the shack wall, dark eye fluttering open when he turns to the airbender, “What do you want?”

“A thank you would be nice but I don’t suppose you do that in the Fire Nation.” the airbender scoffs, dust raising from the cabin floor as he unintentionally bends his own breath. “The name is Naib by the way.”

Norton repeats the name a few times, trying to get the feeling of the way the vowels curl, to make them as soft as Naib does when he pronounces his own name. Like a calm breeze. Like a storm.

Naib’s name tastes almost holy.

Norton doesn’t think he deserves to know the name of someone like that.

“Norton.” Norton spit his own name as if it’s something venomous, as if it is vitriol etched deep. If Naib notices the self-loathing, he decides to not comment.

“Well, Norton,” Naib has a certain tilt on his head, almost bird-like that strikes a chord on Norton’s hear that he didn’t even know he had. Uh-uh. “as I said, I think your bandage can come out today still. Come on, it’s time for you to walk a bit, we can do it by the riverbank.”

He doesn’t wait for Norton’s answer, quick to get on his feet and exist their makeshift hideout. Once again, he is stuck with the elegant way he moves, all lithe muscle and power, a broad back turned to him without a second thought.

No one in the Fire Nation had ever left their back open to him.

Not even once.

Naib is waiting for him at the riverbank. It takes Norton by surprise how much harder it is to walk the few meters that separate them now – his muscles weak from the time spent laying down, completely out of balance due the lack of his left eye.

The airbender doesn’t intervene – Norton is not sure if out of respect or lack of interest. Probably both.

He is grateful nonetheless.

The most proudful – and most fearful – part of him still hates the idea of showing any sign of weakness, any openings to be exploited. Which is ridiculous at this point because Naib took care of him at his lowest, Naib was there to see the way he couldn’t fend for himself. The same Naib that could have easily killed him in the spot if he desired.

Norton hates how defenseless he was. Vulnerable. How he still is.

Naib tuts in annoyance at Norton’s vacant look, motioning for him to sit beside the clearly impatient airbender. Norton can feel his stomach churning as Naib plants two firm hands around his face, looks more serious than ever.

He immediately knows he won’t like what Naib has to say.

“Before you look, I will warn you that they did a pretty bad number on you. I did what I could but your eye – “

“Was unsalvageable, yeah, I know,” Norton rolls his right eye, putting on a show of bravery he doesn’t feel. “do it.”

Naib fixates him with a long and hard look before sighing and starting the long and arduous work of taking out Norton’s bandages.

As Naib’s hands work, it takes Norton a minute to understand what he is seeing. Naib’s hands are a mess of ugly scarring, almost as if –

“Your airbending tattoos.” it’s a horrifying realization, “What happened to them?”

Naib stops his ministrations, as stiff as a board. It’s clear Norton touched an extremely sore spot.

“I did what I had to do to survive.” his voice is so cold and detaches that Norton shivers. “Head tattoos are easy enough to hide. A hood, a hat, a headband. But how do you hide tattoos on your hands? Your arms? So I ripped them out. Easy as that.”

Norton isn’t sure of how to answer. How do you answer something like that anyway?

“It’s painful you know. What your little country did to the world.” Naib extends both hands for Norton to see, to touch. “This is my culture being ripped away from me. This is my pride, everything I’ve ever worked for been ripped away from me. This is my people who have been ripped away from me. Do you understand how horrible it is? How humiliating it is? To shed parts of yourself to survive one more day?”

“I think I do.” Norton doesn’t mean to sound so cold. He still does. “Even better than you can possibly imagine.”

“Do you now?” Naib mocks, “And yet, you’re still a Fire Nation soldier.”

“I was a Fire Nation soldier.” Norton spits with a venom he didn’t really expect to have. “I’m not anymore. And if it’s not very clear to you, the Fire Nation doesn’t really want me around.”

“I wonder why.” there is a bite on Naib’s words that was not there previously. “I wonder what you could have possibly done for them to do that to you. Because those are pretty obviously firebending burns you know. Anyone with half a brain can see that someone tried to blast your ass off. Especially with you still within Earth Kingdom borders.”

“This is none of your business,” Norton can feel the embers on his breath as his hands turn into fists, as his anger is fanned by Naib’s cutthroat words. “if there is something I don’t need is a coward airbender hiding on Earth Kingdom asking questions.”

There is a dangerous glint on Naib’s eyes that almost make Norton stop. Almost.

Unfortunately, anger had been poisoning Norton for years.

“What exactly you think you know little monk? How many have you killed for tomorrow’s bread? For a war you didn’t even believe in? Have you been ripped away from your mother too? Maybe you also don’t have a father. Oh, let’s see, maybe the air monks are also poor as shit, living under a shitty government that makes you starve. No right? Because you are all a big happy family where everyone takes care of each other. Bullshit.” Norton spits at Naib’s feet, blue sparks sizzling as they come in contact with the humid earth bellow.

“We were. Once. The Fire Nation took it away from us.” Naib’s eyes don’t betray his emotions, but his voice surely does. He is as angry as Norton is, if not more. “And I’m one of the very few left. Funny, isn’t it?”

“I wonder why did that to happen.” Norton snarls back, pleased to see Naib’s face contorting as he feels his acid words throw right back at him. “Sucks, doesn’t it?”

“Fuck you.”

Norton doesn’t answer. He knows Naib has every right to be suspicious – he is a survivor of a genocide performed by Norton’s country, how could he not? But at the same time, it fucking stings. Norton had his fair share on the war, that much is true, yet, in a way, he and Naib are one and the same.

They are just desperately trying to survive a world not made for people like them.

The conversation dies afterwards, Naib going back to the slow and tedious work of taking Norton’s bandages apart. The skin is still sensitive, quite raw in a few places and Naib can’t afford to have it breaking again.

When he is done, a not so gentle foot kicks Norton forward, the firebender falling in all fours right at the edge of the river, staring at his own reflection.

“Have fun.”

Norton always knew that firebending burns leave nasty marks. He expected something of the sort. But not as bad as they actually are. Never as bad.

The skin around his eye looks like it had been mangled by a platypus bear and then spit out, red and still irritated from the time under paste and cloth – the molten bits all coming around together around a now grey eye that can no longer see. His left arm doesn’t answer as well as he hoped, nerves damaged from protecting his own face the best he could.

‘At least my leg and side don’t look that bad.’

He smiles bitterly to himself, the reflection on the river doing the same – looking so close to tears that he has to look away.

Norton resists the urge to scream.

*

The next few days were awkward at best and downright awful at worst. Norton finds himself alone most of the time – Naib fucking off to who knows where to do who knows what. He prays it doesn’t have anything to do with the bounty over his head.

Logically, he knows that as much as Naib might have come to hate him, it would never come even close to the way he despises the Fire Nation. There is no good reason for Naib to rat him out. Or so Norton hopes.

He is so used at being betrayed that it turns out to be harder than he expected it to be.

Naib still doesn’t.

He had expected punishments, treachery – a knife on the back at any given time. Instead, he is meet with more compassion than he ever had his whole life. Naib is harsh with his words and ever harsher with his actions – he is as much of an instigator by heart as Norton is, ready to jump in the first opportunity to come down with cutthroat words that always plunge a bit too deep.

It’s exactly what Norton needs.

Moments like those, over the simple meals around their campfire, bought with the little coin Norton still had and Naib’s workforce – nothing luxurious or special but still a moment that it’s theirs.

Norton treasures those the most.

“Tell me about your life on the Fire Nation.” the request is so sudden that it makes Norton pause for a few seconds, bowl stopping half-way into his mouth. He settles the soup with a sigh, head thrown back as he thinks about what to say.

He isn’t sure if this is a topic he really wants to venture in.

“Anything will do.”

“Why?” Norton can’t help but wonder what Naib could possibly want from his past. A good laugh? A tragedy to sob over? Intel on the enemy? Every possibility is more terrifying than the last. Especially because Norton doesn’t have any intel to share.

Would Naib throw him out if he isn’t useful?

“I guess… I want to understand.” Naib settles his bowl down too, sighing as he hugs his own legs, scars over his hands a stark contrast against his skin, shadows from the fire dancing over his knuckles. “I want understand why. I want to understand how.”

Naib hesitates for a few seconds before he whispers the next words, “I want to understand you.”

“I’m not sure you will get what you’re expecting,” Norton awkwardly clears his throat, desperately trying to stall time, “I don’t have pleasant tales to tell.”

Naib barks a short laugh, throwing his head back. He can’t help but admire the elegant column of the airbender’s throat, the way it moves as he breathes. So different from Norton, so much more beautiful.

It touches a piece of Norton’s heart he is quite sure would be left better buried deep.

“Do I look like I have a nice story to offer you?” the biting snark makes Norton smile, pleased.

They are, indeed, different sides from the same coin.

“I was born into a mining village. They are not too big or too fancy, mostly we work for pennies to make weapons for the Fire Nation glory or some bullshit like that. We starve more often than not,” Norton takes a deep breath, extending his still-recovering leg closer to the fire. It hurts more than he is willing to admit. “but things are different for benders. Mom was not a bender. I was. News travel fast when you’re surrounded by soldiers.”

“And your dad?”

“Never had one. Fucked off way before I was born.” Norton snorted so loud he worried the Fire Nation could have head him all the way across the ocean. “We never needed a father either.”

“I see.” Naib nods slightly, motioning Norton to continue. “And then?”

“Well, benders are… confiscated. Mom got a few coins and I went to the mines. I was eleven when they threw me into the mines for explosion service.” Norton fixates his gaze into the fire, unwilling to give into the tears he knows are wetting the corners of his eyes. “When I was old enough, they put me into the military. Too poor to afford a master, too poor to have a choice. I… Never really knew what a choice was, actually.

“They don’t teach you how to bend. Not in the way you do at least. They teach you ways to kill. So I could do my part on the war. And that’s my whole story. I was poor in a country made of poor people whose only purpose is war. Wonderful Fire Nation, sharing their glory and prosperity with the world.”

Naib doesn’t answer. There isn’t much for him to say anyway.

“I don’t believe in this war bullshit. I don’t believe in the Fire Nation, I don’t believe in glory and I sure as fuck don’t believe in the Fire Lord. So I left. I wanted to go looking for mom after that but...” he trails off, biting his lip.

Another thing the Fire Nation ripped away from him.

“But you can’t now, can you?” Norton hates how sad Naib sounds. Pity is not exactly something he wants.

“No. I’m an easily recognizable target, after all. Fresh burn scars and Fire Nation clothes? I’m basically broadcasting to the world that I’m a deserter.” he laughs without an ounce of joy, closing his eyes to stop the tears from spilling. “So what exactly can I do? I’m basically just waiting to die.”

Naib bites his lip, shaking his head. In an almost whispered voice, he promises, “There is no way I’m letting you die. Not before I show you that there is much more out there outside of this fuckery they put you thought.”

Norton tilts his head, puzzled. There is no reason for Naib to treat him with this much kindness – but he still does. There are no ulterior motives that Norton can see, no bigger gain to have with him close.

So why would he?

He comes up empty as he mulls the question over cold soup.

*

Norton spends most of his free time – and he has a lot of free time – trying to make do with his newfound lack of balance, the way it’s so much harder to move his hand. It starts simple, taking short walks around their shabby shack, using a stick to write at the riverbank. It’s abnormally frustrating how hard tasks that were once easy to accomplish now took hours – and some he couldn’t even fully do by himself.

Every time he fails to calculate the correct distance between steps and falls, it hurts. Every time he tries to grasp nearby items – Naib’s bowls, sticks, stones, river-water especially – and fails, it hurts like hell. It’s just a matter of time and adjustment, Norton knows that very well, but it still feels horrible to have something so important ripped away from him so easily.

His life was already difficult enough without his newfound disability, how could he not be angry? How could he not resent the country that was supposed to protect him and, instead, tried to kill him in the moment he is not deemed useful enough?

He acquires a newfound hate for the Fire Nation with that.

Which makes it ten times more terrifying when they find him again.

Norton could say he counts himself as surprised, that is a shock that they would come so far to get him. It isn’t. Because this is what the Fire Nation has been excelling at lately – war, hunting, mindless killing.

No room left for people that want nothing to do with that.

With Naib fucking off to spirits know where again, Norton is alone against a dozen or so of fully armored soldiers that smell of sweet and exhale bloodlust. He doesn’t have a chance.

Maybe he never had.

It’s only when they bend for the first time, sparks igniting the dry grass around the riverbank that Norton discover another thing the Fire Nation ripped away from him.

He is terrified of their fire.

He can’t bend.

Throwing a quick prayer to whatever might be listening to him, Norton closes his eyes. He expects to burn.

Instead, Norton is met with a hurricane.

Norton had never seen Naib bend – well, not seriously anyway – and he is caught by surprise by the ferocity of his movements. Norton bends with his arms and legs, movements chaotic and forceful, bulldozing his way as he makes fire relent to his wishes. Naib bends with his whole body, one with the wind as he kicks a soldier in the chest, throwing the unfortunate soul right in the middle of the river.

He stands tall, right in front of Norton as the soldiers circle them more carefully than before. An airbender was not a part of their plan, it seems.

“You will not touch him.” Naib doesn’t make pleas, Naib makes statements. He is not asking, he is ordering.

Norton should be terrified of the short bender that stands in front of him. Instead, he could only feel relief.

Naib is too quick on his feet – barely a blur of movement to Norton’s eye – a sharp and curved blade he stole from the faller soldier in hand as he throws himself into the soldiers as if his life depends of it.

Because it does.

But Naib is one airbender against a squadron and odds don’t look like they are on his favor, no matter how hard he fights. Soldiers fall into the river, crash into trees, bleed from Naib’s unforgiving blade – and there are still too many standing. Naib would never be able to keep up the rhythm.

“Do you trust me?” he reflects a fire blast with a well-placed movement of his knife, wind following his movements to throw the soldier as far as he could, eyes glued on Norton.

He is desperate.

He won’t leave Norton behind.

Norton can’t say he does trust Naib fully. He doesn’t even trust himself after his failure at bending.

But at the moment, he wouldn’t choose anyone else to stay with.

“I do.”

Naib snatches Norton by the waist, knife making a quick arch as the wind howls around them, soldiers losing their footing from the sudden blast and runs.

Norton immediately knows what Naib is planning.

He holds his breath as Naib jumps with him into the running river.

The water feels freezing against his skin and he can hear the shouts from the soldiers at the riverbank, the fire that sizzles way too close to their heads. He clings tightly into Naib, feet kicking desperately as he suddenly remembers a very crucial detail.

He doesn’t know how to swim.

Naib, to his credit, looks absolutely unconcerned as he blasts wind with a few kicks in the opposite direction, propelling them forward as far as he can as the river follows its course, taking them with it.

When they finally emerge, Norton feels more like a wet cat owl than anything else - he is cold, he is hungry and he is terribly tired.

Norton only notices he is swaying, barely able to stand by himself, when a strong arm warps around his waist, fully supporting his weight as he and Naib wobble their way out.

“Come on, I got you. Let’s find a place to rest,” it takes Norton by surprise to hear the murmured encouragement. Naib was never one for nice words or peasantries. “you can think later.”

Norton bites his tongue, unwilling to share his thoughts.

It doesn’t feel like he will have much more time left.

*

After days of fruitless walking, making do with their collective effort into hunting and scavenging, Naib deems they were already way out of the Fire Nation’s radar and could probably settle down comfortably.

Norton wholeheartedly disagrees.

Naib’s chosen place is a wasteland.

“Naib, we sure as hell can’t live here,” Norton scopes up some dirt, horrified to find it to be ash. Fire Nation work. “everything here is dead.”

“Exactly. Who would think about looking somewhere the Fire Nation burned to the ground? No one. It’s perfect.”

“I mean, yeah. But how will we eat? Where will we live?” Norton feels increasingly desperate at Naib’s nonchalant attitude. “Naib, there is nothing here.”

“There is us,” Naib shrugs, “and we can always build upon ruins.”

“Naib, this is a wasteland.”

“This is our wasteland. And as an air monk I take it upon myself to teach you the value of patience.” the shit-eating grin on Naib’s face crumbles with all his defenses. “Come on matchstick, we have a lot of work to do.”

And that was that.

As it turns out, building upon ruins is even harder than Norton imagined – they had virtually nothing to build with. No money to buy the necessary tools, no money to buy clothes, to buy seeds, no housing, no nothing.

Nothing besides each other.

As they huddle closer, trying to warm each other in one of the coldest nights they had faced until that moment, Norton can see how uneasy Naib is, the way he keeps anxiously tossing and turning and sighing – and he won’t deny that seeing Naib like this makes his heart clench.

If only he could bend again.

“I’m sorry.”

“What for?” Naib turns to look at him, eyebrows rising. The blue arrow tattooed on his forehead almost glows – and it takes all Norton’s self-control to simply not touch.

“Because I can’t bend.” Norton sighs.

“So?”

“We wouldn’t be in this situation if it wasn’t for me being useless, you know.” he can’t keep the bitterness away from his voice as he admits the thought that had been plaguing his mind for several hours. “We could have a fire. Warm food. We could –“

“Norton,” Naib silences him with a hand clasped over his mouth, to Norton’s surprise, “shut up.”

Norton can’t resist the childish impulse to lick Naib’s palm, much to the other’s chagrin, “Me shutting up doesn’t make it any less true, you know?”

“First of all, you are fucking gross.” Naib cleans his hand on Norton’s robes with a grimace and Norton can’t quite hide his smile at the action. “And yeah, it’s true that it would be easier if you could bend or if we had flint or something of the sort. But we don’t and there is no use on dwelling over that.”

“How can you be so calm?” the question escapes Norton’s mouth before he can stop it, immediately regretting letting thoughts slip. He isn’t meant to pry on Naib’s feelings or mind – especially after how much Naib suffered in the hands of the Fire Nation.

Naib barks a long laugh, “Who said I am?”

“You certainly look the part.” Norton murmurs, highly self-conscious as he rubs a hand over the nape of his neck. He should have stayed quiet.

“After you see your whole temple get brutally murdered without being able to do anything it kinda fucks you up.” Naib shrugs, unconcerned. “But that’s not a story you want to hear.”

Norton bites his lip, weighing his options before he gives up and repeats Naib’s words right back at him, “I want to know you.”

“Very well.” Naib’s eyes soften at the confession, recognizing his own words throw back at him. “If you want to know so badly.”

Norton doesn’t risk a verbal answer, choosing to nod instead.

“I’m from the Northern Air Temple. It had a pretty normal childhood for the standard Air Nomad child, I don’t think there is much to tell you about that. I’m not any kind of prodigy at airbending – or meditation for that matter – so it took me a few years before I could fully master airbending and get my tattoos. Only a few weeks before the invasion, in fact.

“I… I don’t remember that much from the invasion you know? I guess I’m too traumatized for that. I remember the cars pulling themselves with chains, I remember so many firebenders, so much smoke. I remember seeing my friends falling, my family falling, everyone being burned down no matter how much they fought back.”

Naib takes a deep breath, clearly shaken as the memories resurface. Norton leans into him, offering as much of a silent comfort as he could. As much as he wasn’t part of that particular genocide, he was still part of others.

“I could see them burning. I still remember their smell.” Naib closes his eyes, clearly tired. “So I took my glider and fled. I was lucky enough to make it farther than most. Lucky to meet a waterbender willing to take my glider as payment for ripping the tattoos from my arms and healing the wounds. I’ve been on the run ever since.”

Norton doesn’t know how to answer to a confession like that, to a genocide performed by his country, his people.

Instead, he hugs Naib with all his strength. He certainly can’t make amends for what the Fire Nation had done to the Air Nomads but could still offer Naib comfort.  

*

They take a quick trip to a nearby Earth Kingdom village – Naib unabashedly stealing a new set of Earth Kingdom clothes for Norton from a farm on the outskirts of town before they ventured the market.

“You won’t stand out that much like this. Many people got burned in the war.” he explains without batting an eye as Norton changes, a few quick swipes of airbending opening a big enough hole to bury the leftover robes.

Norton chooses to not comment on how they had no plans on actually spending much time in this village – or any others for the matter. He knows exactly what Naib is doing, how he is getting rid of the constant reminder that Norton carries of what happened not so long ago.

Well, one of them, at least.

It takes a quick hand and a few airbending movements to steal a few packs of seeds– axes were too expensive and much more closely guarded, leaving them without a good chance of stealing one. They would have to make do with Naib’s airbending to cut down a few trees to make a house. They would have to rely on Naib’s airbending for a lot, actually.

Norton vows to himself that he would find a way to make himself more useful.

“You’re thinking way too loud,” Naib’s hand on his arm tightens in warning. “what is the matter?”

Right. Naib had a hand over his arm to help him navigate the packed streets because he is still struggling with his newfound disability. He can feel his heartbeat quickening with the thought and prays to any spirits that might be listening that Naib can’t hear it. Or feel it.

“I’m… I’m thinking about how to make myself more useful when we go back.”

“Plant those.” Naib opens his Norton’s hand, depositing a heavy seed bag over the outstretched palm.

“I don’t think I’m the best person to plant something Naib.” the doubt bleeds on Norton’s voice without his consent and he inwardly cringes. “I don’t think I can make anything grow.”

“Don’t be fucking stupid.” Naib snorts, playfully hitting his good arm. “Anything can grow from the ashes Norton. Even you.”

*

They take it slow.

By the day, both of them would work on planting their new found seeds and carrying water from the nearby lake to water them and Naib would use his airbending to cut down as much wood as he could, Norton carrying it back to their makeshift camp so they could start to build.

At night, Naib would dedicate himself into teaching Norton. Those were the moments Norton likes the most – daily work is turns mindless and boringly repetitive but training with Naib… Training with Naib is a whole other story.

“The first thing you have to learn is how to control your breath.” Naib sits cross-legged, closed fists touching as he closes his eyes, breathing deeply. “Control your mind. Learn how to make it your mind a quiet and serene place.”

“I don’t think that’s possible Naib.” Norton imitates the pose the best he can, observing Naib with the corner of his eyes.

“Close your eyes and stay still.” Naib instructs, not bothering to look at him. “You will learn. Eventually.”

“How did you even know I didn’t have my eyes closed?”

“Because you are you.” Naib snorts, “And you are always too suspicious of your surroundings to have your eyes closed.”

Norton can’t deny that.

He closes his eyes, inhaling deeply and trying his very best to follow Naib’s instructions, to make his mind a blank slate. Serene.

Instead, he is flooded with images of Naib. Naib helping him with his bandages. Naib armed with a knife against a dozen Fire Nation soldiers. Naib leaning on him. Naib helping him navigate the packet market. Naib stealing clothes for him. Naib, Naib, Naib.

He can feel his cheeks flushing, embarrassment flooding his veins as he can’t bring himself to stop thinking about the small and fierce airbender, his mannerisms, his voice, his laugh. He is quite sure he isn’t supposed to be thinking about that – he is supposed to be meditating, to calm his mind.

Norton is supposed to make himself useful, to re-ignite his bending. To lose his fear.

To protect Naib.

And yet, he is there daydreaming about him.

“Once you have cleaned your mind, I want you to think about your place in the universe. How do you connect with earth? With bending? With water, with air? How do you connect with the animals around you?” Naib takes another deep breath, eyes still closed, “How do you connect with me?”

Norton flushes deeper, crude and honest answer on the tip of his tongue. He refrains from voicing his thoughts, instead opting for a simpler answer – one that would still be true nonetheless.

“I don’t know.”

“That’s the start. You don’t know. You have to think about it.” Naib nods in approval. Norton didn’t even notice he had opened his eyes. “Find a place for yourself in the circle of life. We all have one.”

Norton is not so sure about that.

Hours fly under Naib’s tutelage, Norton learning everything that had been denied to him when he was young. He learned about chi – the energy that feed the body and soul, that makes bending possible. He learns about the chakras, points where his chi is more heavily concentrated, where his feeling and fears lay. He learns how to clean them, how to understand himself better.

He learns how to beath properly, how to use the environment at his favor, how to move his feet and his arms again.

Naib also teaches him how to see with the wind. How to feel the air’s movements, how to sense the wind dislocations and pay attention to sound – how to see without his eye.

Little by little, Norton re-learns how to live not as a killing machine under the Fire Nation but as someone who had a friend. Little by little Norton learns how to be half-airbender.

Little by little Norton learns how to fall in love with Naib.

The realization downs him in the most stupid moment possible. They stand in front of their half-finished house, with small seedlings sprouting from the charred earth bellow and Naib is laughing with glee, pulling Norton’s sleeve.

“Wake up, wake up, wake up!”

“Naib, what the fuck.”

“Shut up, just wake up.” Naib has his face too close, smile a bit too big and Norton can feel his breath hitch, his cheeks flush. “Aren’t firebenders supposed to wake with the sun?”

Naib is even more beautiful up close.

“Leave my sleeping habits alone.” Norton swats the hand pulling his sleeve way, still dazed from sleep and Naib’s antics alike, pushing himself up with a groan. “What do you want?”

“Look.”

Norton can feel his breath hitch again as he takes notice of the small green dots around their soon to be home, life sprouting from under the ashes.

“You did that.” Naib sounds so proud. “You brought life to this place again.”

“I… I did that.” Norton feels dizzy, “I planted them.”

“You did.” Naib is laughing like he never did before, hugging Norton by the waist and shooting up, up, up, air currents carrying them as far as they can go.

Naib is still hugging Norton’s waist tightly, laughing as they spin in the sky, hoodie falling to show his long brown hair whipping wildly around him, bright blue eyes closed as he enjoys the wind whistling around them, as he enjoys the warmth of Norton’s body close, the happiness of doing something right.

A small step against what the Fire Nation had done, sure. But it’s a big step for them.

And that’s all that matters.

Instead of being as terrified as he should, Norton can only feel exhilaration. He loves this man.

He loves this man more than he loves his own life.

Somehow, the realization doesn’t sting as much as Norton feels like it should.

*

The first sparks of Norton’s firebending come back so unexpectedly that he almost falls over. They barely finish the house in time for winter – the colder and harsher winds unforgiving as they stock their new-grown food, separating it on piles to sell and to consume.

It’s nothing fancy – four wood walls and a straw and clay roof to keep them dry. They don’t have the means or strength to do anything else. The fanciest part of their new home is a high circle made of rocks cemented together in a makeshift fireplace, thanks to Naib.

He was insufferable after he finished that one.

Their wood is too wet for the flint they had bought a few months ago to take effect and Norton had been so annoyed with it that he threw the whole thing away, crossing his arms in the most childish display of behavior possible.

“This is not the meditation we trained.” Naib sing-songs, fetching the discarded item to try it himself. “You’re not being a good pupil my darling.”

“Fuck you. If it was this easy, I could just snap my fingers like this,” Norton snaps his fingers a few times in mockery as Naib watches him, open mouthed. “and it would be done. Easy fire. But alas I’m the most useless firebender in the face of earth so –“

“Well, congratulations.”

Fire crackles back at Norton, blue and wild.

His firebending was back.

It feels nothing like the fire he bended before. For starters, his flames had become entirely blue, burning hotter than ever, feeling more wild and more unpredictable than ever. But they were still his, so Norton had no other choice other than learn how to live with this new part of himself too.

With Norton’s firebending abilities back in place, their life both got easier and harder. Norton’s fire is still as wild as it was before, untamable in the same way the firebender is, sometimes a great asset and others much more of a hassle. But with Norton’s firebending abilities back it also meant they could get past the meditation phase.

While Norton mostly has his movements back, he still has to live with how much slower he is now, how the nerve damage makes him shake when he puts too much strain on his limbs, how the muscles refuse to cooperate whenever his bending gets too aggressive, the fire too bright.

One unseeing eye also doesn’t help.

Naib is always by his side – it takes Norton an embarrassingly long amount of time to notice how Naib had shifted his way of moving around him. At first, Naib had made sure to always stay where Norton could see, always announcing his arrival with either movements or with his voice. Now… Now Naib covers his blind side. Whenever they go to the market, Naib is there to protect the side where he can’t see, even if Naib himself taught him how to use the wind and air dislocation on his favor.

And as much as Naib wants to help, he is still very much an airbender. Airbending moves and firebending moves were indeed, vastly different.

He still does as much as he can.

Under Naib’s guidance, Norton learns how to incorporate airbending movements into his own bending, blue fire turning much more amicable and tame every time Naib touches him, every time Naib corrects a pose. It still sizzles and crackles with electricity from time to time, lightning ready to strike.

Anger he still doesn’t properly know how to control buried down below.

They work on it nonetheless, alternating bending practice and meditation – one where Norton very much keeps still thinking about Naib most of the time.

Sometimes he fantasizes that, one day, Naib might feel the same way.

*

By Norton’s calculations, it should have been almost a year since they first met when the Fire Nation finds them again.

Five soldiers are not that many if you think about a battalion but they are still five soldiers too many for Norton and Naib’s newfound peace.

They are young – way too young to be in this kind of war. Younger than Naib. Younger than Norton. Barely more than children, barely teenagers.

Norton both pities and hates them.

Their official is still bright-eyed and too cocky – dressed in way too rich robes for a war, medals adorning her shoulder pads. A noble kid playing general.

They don’t talk, don’t try to ask – soldiers immediately rounding Naib as their general immediately positions herself in front of Norton. Something about her seems dangerous, crackling with energy.

It takes Norton a second to understand where he already saw that kind of energy surrounding a bender.

She also bends lighting.

There aren’t many benders around that can bend lightning – Norton knows that all too well – and the ones who do are always difficult to deal with, encounters often deadly.

It’s not called the cold-blooded fire for nothing.

“Turn yourself in and we might give you a few more days to life.”

Neither Norton or Naib answer.

Naib has his knees flexed, laying low as he looks from left to right, a caged animal looking for an opportunity. The soldiers position themselves better, circle getting tighter and tighter against Naib. They clearly don’t want him to be able to bend.

The woman snaps her fingers and from then and on, Norton couldn’t afford to look out for Naib anymore. She clearly notices how he is blind from one eye, taking every opportunity to strike blast after blast of fire against his left side.

Norton had never been more thankful for Naib’s teachings. He dances away from her fire, sending a few well-placed kicks against her armored shins, intending to burn her just enough to turn tail and run.

The captain would have none of that.

She is smart, skilled and she is out for their blood. From the way the soldier behind Norton don’t make much of a sound and the wind keeps howling, he infers that Naib is holding his own pretty well too.

It’s clear that she wants to bring him down as quick and efficiently as possible – and without the usage of lighting. Lightning can be unpredictable after all, she could very well harm her own soldiers.

Norton focus on dodging another blast she sends with her legs, set on backing him against Naib.

Son of a bitch knows damn well I won’t harm him.

When a shadow falls into his side – his blind side – Norton knows they won.

He doesn’t need to ask Naib to do anything, Naib knows Norton as well as he knows his own breath by now.

He blows enough wind to knock her out of balance, arms moving in circles as the wind howls and laughs with him, the whirling taking form of a small hurricane. Norton smiles, leg kicking up an arch of fire as they bend in unison, fire and wind biting the woman’s ankles.

Their only mistake is to concentrate too much in their own bending, loosing visual contact with her.

Norton feels the way his hair stands, energy crackling as lighting booms around them. She doesn’t aim at Norton.

She aims at Naib.

He doesn’t allow himself time to think about anything else other than Naib, Naib, Naib.

He has to protect Naib.

Getting hit by lightning fucking hurts. He grits his teeth, willing the lighting to go away, to get out of his body to hit this women’s feet.

“Stay away from him.”

Lightning booms once more, singeing her armored feet, burning her shins. Norton doesn’t intent to kill – not anymore, not now and not ever – so he redirects the energy to the ground instead, letting the earth absorb it. He won’t deny he came close to striking her.

“Stay away from him!” this time he screams at the same time she does, terrified to have her own bending turned against her. She falls into her ass, covering her face with her arms.

She probably expects to die there.

“You will go back to your admiral,” Norton picks her by the collar of her robes, snarling, “and you will tell them you didn’t find anyone here. Whoever gave you the tip was mistaken, wanted a bit of cash, I don’t care which lie you will tell. Because if you come back here…”

He brings a hand full of blue, crackling fire against her face, enough for her to feel the heat, the burn.

She doesn’t need another word.

They scurry off as quick as they came and Norton falls into his knees, suddenly exhausted.

“Are you okay?”

“I… I don’t know.” it’s not a very satisfying answer but still an honest one. “I was so scared Naib.”

“I know,” Naib hugs him from behind, cheek resting against Norton’s broad back. “Thank you for protecting me Norton. I’m proud of you for letting them go.”

He turns to look at Naib, eyes softening as he sees the airbender safe and sound, still leaning against his back. Clothes a bit more worn out, a bit more seared – but still in one piece.

He has never been more beautiful.

“Can I kiss you?” he blurts the question before he can think better about it, too whipped by the beautiful man behind him – once a monk, once a pacifist, now hardened from war and hardships.

A little broken, a little tired but still very much his Naib.

“You should have a long time ago.” Naib doesn’t wait for an answer, lips meeting his.

His lips taste like the honey they had earlier, taste like a promise to fight whatever comes their way together.

Tastes like home, like outrunning the karma of killing or being killed. Tastes like fleeing from war and finding love, finding a place to stay. Like finding a partner for life.

Norton wouldn’t ask for anything else.