Archive of Our Own

When Sokka was nine, he got his first soulpain.

It was nothing to worry about really. His soulmate likely just stubbed their toe or tripped. Nonetheless, Sokka freaked out.

He buried his face in his mother's parka, hiding his tears from the world.

He told her about how unfair it was, that he had to feel someone else's pain. How he hated to think of some random kid out there hurting whenever he did something stupid and injured himself.

He told her how he wished he didn't have a soulmate.

She took his head in her hands, making him face her the way she only did when she wanted to have a grown-up kind of conversation with him.

He thinks that, maybe, the soft, patient smile he remembers is truly hers and not a figment of his imagination.

"Sokka, darling," she cooed, "your soulmate isn't meant to bring pain, they're meant to be a symbol of love and peace."

He didn't understand. How was that possible when all he could feel from his soulmate was their pain? When their only means of communication was through their shared hurt?

"Right now, all you can feel is their pain. With time, you'll see that there's more to it than that."

She then laughed, a gentle, sweet laugh. One which will forever echo in the back of Sokka’s mind until the day he takes his last breath. It's the one and only thing he can truly claim to remember about his mother with full clarity.

She proceeded to regale Sokka on how his mother and father first met. She told him how she knew almost immediately that he was her soulmate with how often he got himself hurt. She told him how the pain was bearable knowing it meant that her soulmate was alive somewhere, even if he was pulling stupid stunts only teenage boys could think up off.

She told him how it soon developed into her feeling all his pains, in and out, and how much she despised this fact -- the way Sokka despised it at that point. She told him how it eventually turned to feeling all his emotions; the good, the bad and the down right unbearable.

She smiled fondly when she regaled him of their wedding day, and how she felt twice as happy as she would've if it were anyone else who stood waiting for her.

Sokka made faces of disgust as she went into more detail of their happier moments, cringing only because it was mushy and he was nine.

"Oh, you'll understand. One day," she promised.

Sokka, deep down where the light of day never would shine, really hoped he would.

He continued to listen to her stories until he felt like facing the world again. She sat with him, not a complaint to be heard, and told him story after story until he was content.

That day is one of his favored memories from his childhood -- one of the few he still has of his mother.

***

When Sokka was ten, his mother died.

His mother died and he couldn't help her. He couldn't protect her.

He didn't know what to do. He didn't know how to move forward without his mother there to guide him. How was he supposed to take a step forward without his mother's hands there to catch him in case he fell?

The only thing he knew to do was hold his baby sister close as she fell apart in his arms. All he knew to do was honor his mother's sacrifice and protect Katara from any more hardship and sorrow.

She was only nine and filled with a grief and guilt a kid her age should never know.

Sokka didn't know how to help her. He didn't know how to help anyone.

His father wasn't the same after she died. He smiled less, laughed less. He even stopped eating with them for a few months after she died.

He got better over time, Gran-Gran had promised them he would, but he wasn't the same. His smiles rarely reached his eyes and his laugh was always hollow. He was trying, Sokka knew that, but Sokka also knew he'd probably never be the same dad he was before that day.

Sokka didn't know how to help him. He didn't know what to say or do to make his father come back to him. Sokka was scared.

The only thing he knew was that Katara needed to be protected -- that's what their mother would want -- and their father needed space to get better.

He needed to be a good big brother and an even better son. This meant he couldn't go crying to Katara or Gran-Gran whenever things got tough. He needed to be a big kid now and take care of them.

He pushed back the hurt and the little voice in his head telling him about all the ways things just weren't the same anymore. About how daunting it was to get up in the morning into this new world where his mother wasn't there and his father didn't smile properly and his sister had grown up too much.

He pushed it all back.

***

When Sokka's eleventh birthday rolled around, he felt nothing.

People huddled up together in his family home, bearing gifts and kind smiles. With them, they also brought eyes filled with pity for the boy who had to celebrate his birthday without his mother and a few hushed words of condolences to his father for an incident that happened over half a year ago now.

Through it all, he couldn't bring himself to be happy. He couldn't feel the annoyance he normally felt towards the little brats running around. He wasn’t feeling very grateful when people offered him their gifts, laced with pity and understanding.

He should’ve felt all those things, but an odd sense of numbness had taken over. It was almost as though someone else had taken over the burden of being Sokka, and he was watching it all unfold.

He saw himself smile when they sang him a song that just wasn't the same without her voice to carry it. He heard his own strained laughter when they told him stories of adventures he'd missed out on because he was busy training with Bato.

He had to look away when he caught his sister staring into the fire with a longing in her eyes and a deep seated anger.

He had to tune out his father's laugh as it grew more and more hollow as the sun sunk further and further into the horizon.

He had to pretend he didn't notice that the birthday cake just wasn't the same cake he's had every other year.

He pushed away those bad thoughts, stomped on them so they wouldn't resurface again, even if he knew his efforts would be in vain.

He tried his best to be okay. He really, really did.

***

When Sokka was eleven, he got a fish hook stuck in his thumb -- it wouldn't have happened if his mother was there.

It was a strange feeling.

The whole situation blew over pretty quickly. His father got them -- yes, both of the hooks he got stuck in his finger -- out and it became a fun story to share around the campfire on the particularly cold nights.

For Sokka, however, it was more than that. It was an eye-opening experience. A realization he should've had a long time ago.

The next night, he found his father's dagger lying on the kitchen table and made his way to the outskirts of the village, behind one the snow walls -- let it be known that he didn't go too far from home, just far enough so no one could hear him.

He plopped down in the snow and brought the dagger to his wrist.

The sensation was a strange sort of relief. Going from feeling nothing at all to this was strange, and strange in a way he liked. Maybe not necessarily in a good way, but one he liked.

So what if this was the only way he could get himself to feel something again? What's so bad about it? He's feeling things again and, technically, he isn't hurting anyone.

Okay, so maybe he's hurting his soulmate, but if they really were Sokka's other half, they should understand.

So, from that night on, he'd sneak away into the snow.

***

When Sokka was twelve, he felt the worst pain he'd ever felt.

It's dark and snowy and he's got the dagger in hand when he collapses to the floor.

It was the worst thing he'd ever felt, the worst thing he'll ever feel.

He remembers collapsing, clutching his face to try and stop the pain. He knows he screamed and cried if only because of his sore throat and puffy eyes. He doesn't remember his father coming in a panic, nor does he remember passing out.

His father said it was the scariest feeling he'd ever had. Hearing a cry so loud and so desperate and pained, only to find out it's your son's cry.

Sokka made him worry.

His father sat him down the next day for a conversation about the dagger.

"I wanted to practice fighting!" He told his father as he swung his hands about as if to demonstrate the thought.

His father gave him a funny look. "Ya sure?"

Sokka nodded so vigorously his father had no choice but to believe him.

He lied, yes, but he did it for a good cause. His father didn't need to know about the dagger and the emptiness and the relief. He was already in so much pain, finding out his son was hurting would only hurt him more.

Sokka doesn’t know whether hurting was good enough of a description of what he’s feeling,- or wasn't feeling. He isn’t even sure whether he has the words to describe it, all he knows is that it’s just not enough—

Sokka was more careful with the dagger after that.

***

When Sokka was thirteen, his father left.

He left with the rest of his warriors, and any able-bodied men who volunteered. He left Sokka behind. Sokaa wasn't strong enough to join him.

He tried —he really, really did— to keep it together for his sister. He didn't want to break down in front of her when he knew she was hurting just as much as he was. He wanted to be strong, at least for her, but that's just not who Sokka was, apparently.

He remembers gripping onto her parka the way he did with his mother’s, and hiding his face from the world in it. He remembers Katara offering him sweet nothings just like his mother would.

He tried so hard to be strong, but when it really mattered, he was not strong enough.

***

When Sokka's fifteen, he finds a boy in an iceberg.

The boy is apparently an Air Nomad, and much to Sokka's surprise -- and dismay -- he can do the weird magic thing with the air like Katara does with water.

Then, not long after, the two of them set off a beacon alerting a Fire Nation ship of their location.

It took one look at the ash snow and the silhouette of a ship on the horizon for Sokka to don the face paint.

He stands at the ready, spear in hand, Boomerang strapped to his back.

It is then that he misses his father the most. He longs to be by his father's side as he faces his first real battle.

A weird sense of hope bubbles in the back of his mind. Strangely, he feels disconnected from the feeling. It is the first real feeling he’s had in a long time, and yet, it isn’t his.

For a split second, he lets his mind wander to his soulmate, and what they might be up to.

There's a distant longing for a father's approval as well. He can't quite tell whether it's his own or that of his soulmate.

When the second is over, the ship is there, at their shores and a soldier with a stupid looking ponytail walks out.

He charges the stupid looking soldier-- only to be thrown to the ground like its nothing. Like he is nothing.

All that training with Bato was for nothing. All the nights of sleep lost to perfect his techniques were for nothing.

At least it would've been, had he remained on the ground.

He throws his Boomerang and it hits the soldier square on the head. He lets out a victory -- and definitely very manly, why is that even a question? -- shout. Weirdly though, he gets a splitting headache after that.

The soldier leaves, with the Air Nomad, who apparently forgot to mention that he also happens to be the goddamn avatar -- the real life, actual, not-dead avatar!

Katara wants to go after him and Sokka wants to protect her.

On the flight over, he gets a lot of soulpains. Strange. Wonder what they're up to.

Getting to the ship, Sokka gets a few, well deserved hits on the stupid-looking-bald-ponytail guy.

Sokka's headache gets worse afterwards.

They ride on the weird sky bison away from the stupid Fire Nation ship with their newfound buddy, Aang.

***

They stop by on Kyoshi Island and Sokka learns a few lessons he'll take to heart.

He also meets the most beautiful, brave person he’d ever met. Suki was a force to be reckoned with and Sokka couldn’t help but want.

He knows better. He’d felt it, or rather, he hadn’t felt it. Felt any connection, any spiritual link to her. She hadn’t felt it either apparently if the sad little smile she’d given him after the kiss was anything to go by.

Still, Sokka can’t help but want to see her again. She isn’t his soulmate but she’s still someone he admires, and maybe they could be friends? He doesn’t know how the whole soulmate thing works. But he figures friendship with someone-you-hoped-to-be-your-soulmate-but-isn’t was permeable.

Frankly, he can’t bring himself to care much either way. If he ever sees her again, then he’ll see.

***

Sokka has decided that fortune tellers are his new least favorite type of people.

He hates Aunt Wu. She's a lying, deceiving, delusional, old woman.

The second she lays eyes on him, she sends him the dirtiest look he's ever received. She stares him down before announcing his fortune -- or is it more of a misfortune? -- for all to hear.

"Your soulmate is quite the fellow, young man. Do not be wary of him, though, aa he'll be quite the asset for you in many-a ways."

And then she proceeds to spout off some nonsense about all his suffering being self-inflicted -- which is so not true.

How is randomly finding a boy in an iceberg his fault? So stupid, she is.

Thinking back to what she said as they fly away into the night, he can't help but focus on a specific part of it.

"Did she say he?" He asks Katara.

She looks up at him from her spot on the saddle, all curled up and ready to take a nap. "What?"

"Aunt Wu; did she say he? Ya know, when she was talking about my soulmate?"

Sokka feels the need to clarify if only to prove that Aunt Wu is indisputably full of it. Sokka likes girls; he's known this since before his mother died. He knows this for sure now as Suki continues to take up space in his mind.

Katara shrugs. "Pretty sure she said "him" and not "he," but yes," and with that, she's out.

Sokka decides that Aunt Wu has lost it.

***

He curses Aunt Wu under his breath.

Why did she have to tell him anything about his soulmate? Maybe then, he could've lived in ignorant bliss, thinking Yue -- beautiful, sweet Yue -- was his soulmate.

Even if he knows, deep down, he would've figured it out the same way he had with Suki, he could've at least pretended not to know.

Now he has to watch her beautiful smile knowing it'll never be his and that there's probably somebody else who was literally made for her.

"Do you know your soulmate?' he finds himself asking even if he doesn't want to know the answer.

She offers him a small smile -- it would feel pitiful if it were anyone but Yue. She shakes her head.

"I don't have a soulmate," she says as if that's just a normal thing for people to say.

He nods at first, before the words register, "what?" He can't help the budding hope that fills his gut at the prospect.

She giggles into her hand and-- oh, Spirits, Sokka could live in this exact moment for the rest of his life. Her smile, her laugh, her eyes. He could just melt. She was just the most perfect person to ever exist.

Why have the Spirits done him so dirty? Letting him meet such an angel only to rip her out of his hands?

"It’s not something that happens often, and not everyone knows, but-- I think it's because my life force comes from a Spirit."

She then proceeds to regale him of the story of how she almost didn't make it to sixteen, or even to one, for that matter.

"That's-- woah. Just, woah."

She giggles, hand ever so delicately placed over her mouth. "The Spirits have blessed me with my life, a soulmate would be asking for too much."

Sokka frowns.

Soulmates are not a blessing. He's known this since he was nine. They are there to simply tell you you're alive and that they are too. Soulmates bring pain and hurt, all of it unneeded and useless.

He knows this because of every cut he's had to feel guilty for even if he shouldn't have to. He knows this because of every pain he's experienced that just was not his. He knows this because of that night in the snow.

He knows this because of the beautiful young woman standing in front of him who'll never be his.

He knows because of the deep longing in his father's eyes that just doesn't seem to leave him.

"Soulmates are not a blessing," he says simply.

Yue looks at him, caring and sincere, and maybe a little sad.

So what if he sounds a little jaded right now? His point is valid and he has grounds to prove it. Yue not having a soulmate is proof enough.

"But they are, Sokka," she insists.

He can't help but feel giddy at the way she says his name. Full of conviction and sincerity and compassion. All encompassed in the simple word of his name.

"It may be hard to believe... but I truly think you'll understand."

Sokka feels his frown deepen.

Why do people keep telling him that?

"Yeah, it is really hard to believe," is all he can say.

Things get hectic after that. He finds out Yue has a fiancé she's being forced to marry, meets said fiancé then gets sent off to protect Yue while her so-called future husband goes out to do Spirits knows what.

Prince McPonytail is there too. He steals Aang, or at least tries to, before he collapses and they have to drag him back because they aren't monsters.

All the while, Sokka has to ignore the excruciating soulpains he is getting from no particular area.

Then the moon dies and the world is thrown off balance.

Aang goes into the spirit Avatar form and Yue dies -- maybe not in that order precisely; the night is a blur to him.

Yue dies in his arms. He's unable to protect her. She dies in his arms; she leaves to save the world. How proud he is of her is overshadowed by the convulsing pain he feels knowing she died in his arms.

He doesn't know what to do with himself the rest of the day. He knows he isn't mentally present in any of the goings-on around him but he couldn't care less.

She died in his arms. He was supposed to protect her, to keep her safe. He promised her father he would. He failed and she died because of it.

And so, when he finds himself alone in an alleyway, hidden from the world, Boomerang tracing familiar circles on his wrist, he isn't all that surprised.

A relief, he tells himself, a relief from what's going on inside. Just for the night.

***

Toph is his new favorite person, Sokka decides.

After running away from home and joining their rag-tag group of aspiring world-saviours, Toph almost immediately wins Sokka over.

No, it's not only because she also knows how to get under Katara's skin and seems to enjoy it almost as much as he does, why would you think that?

She's sick and scary and probably the strongest person he's ever met, and she's just twelve!

Granted, Aang is also just twelve and is weirdly mature sometimes, but still!

Point is; Toph is cool and Sokka likes her.

***

Sokka wakes one morning feeling odd.

He's not sure how to put it into words, all he can say is that it's complicated.

He knows well enough now that it isn't his own feelings but that of his soulmate. The feelings of his other half are stored neatly in a box, somewhere to the back of his head, right next to the sealed and boarded up box of issues that he will, one day, deal with, probably.

He used to occasionally feel senses of dread or anger or frustration or whatever else his soulmate was feeling.

Take for example, the night out in the snow when he collapsed from pain. That night, the sense of shame and humiliation, and maybe a bit of betrayal, all stung and burnt Sokka from the inside.

That was his first "inner-soulpain" as Gran Gran told him.

His second inner-soulpain came to him, not in the form of a pain, but rather, just a feeling. Back on the day Prince McPonytail came to his village. He felt a strange budding of hope, one which had only grown since that day and then randomly burnt out after the siege on the North.

He hadn't thought much of his soulmate since then. Only occasionally before he fell asleep he'd be reminded of it thanks to Katara and Aang.

But now? Now, it felt like his soulmate was right there, next to him, in his head.

***

Suki's back and Sokka's a wreck.

Sokka's always been this way, he knows that. He's always had an irrational need to protect Katara -- and now Toph and Aang as well. It's part of who he is.

He knows his fears are born from paranoia and a deep seated need to prove himself. He knows this, he's come to terms with this. And he's been trying to be better— really, he has.

But seeing Suki in danger, seeing her and knowing she relies on him, makes something within him spark to life. Something he's been trying smother to ash since the North Pole.

He tells himself it's logical to want to protect. It's who he is, after all, someone who protects. He tells himself it's logical because he has to protect her.

He couldn't protect their mother from the Fire Nation.

He couldn't protect Katara and his father from the grief that followed.

Couldn't protect Yue, or Aang, or even Appa.

Couldn't protect his soulmate, either.

So, he has to protect Suki, he just has to.

Logical, he tells himself, it's perfectly logical.

Even still, it doesn't make his treatment of Suki right. He knows that and when she sits him down to talk about it, he understands. He well and truly does.

He understands because he gets her. He knows she's not pushing him away, or telling him not to bother. He knows she's strong beyond his comprehension, he knows she can handle herself far better than he can.

He just-- he just needs to...

Except he doesn't. He doesn't need to.

He knows he needs to focus on those whom he does need to help.

Aang, his mind quietly supplies.

He intends to make sure Aang gets the protection a kid his age deserves— and can reasonably get considering the circumstances. Maybe not to the point of hovering around him as he felt the need to do so with Suki, but maybe, more as the guy to help him find his lost friend.

Sokka knows he can do as much. He's the Plan Guy, after all.

He thought that after their heart-to-heart that night, something between the two of them would change. Maybe they'd fall apart and not know what to do with themselves. That the quiet between them would fall from comforting and peaceful to unfamiliar and daunting. He did not want that.

His worries were for naught, however, as this was Suki he was talking about. Suki; who never fails to brighten up any room she enters. Suki; whose smile can instantly make him feel lighter. Suki; who, even with their lack of time with one another, still seems to have him all figured out.

So when he finds himself relaxing in her hushed presence, he feels a wave of relief wash over him. Enough so to break the silence.

"Hey, Suki," he starts, turning to face her. She hums in acknowledgement. "Have you met your soulmate?"

It's a standard question, really. Everyone’s asked it, everyone’s been asked it.

Suki is looking at him now, blinking in a start. She then smiles a soft, amused smile. "Where'd that come from?"

Sokka shrugs. "Dunno, just thought I'd ask."

Suki nods, turning back to face the cliffside, a thoughtful look adorning her features. She sits in her thoughts for a moment longer before offering him a shrug in return. "Not sure, really. I think I might have, once, when I was seven. But I'm not sure."

Sokka offers her a sympathetic nod.

"It was this little girl," Suki continues, "she had the brightest eyes I'd ever seen. She was quiet and kept to herself a lot, I don't think she was necessarily scared of anyone. It was probably that she didn't see worth in talking to anyone..." she snorts, loud and unbothered, "the only reason I thought she might have been my soulmate was-- well, let's just say she was a bit... hm... reckless? Didn't know how to deal with things and ended up blowing up a lot."

Sokka nods. He's met kids like that before, back at the South Pole and even in Jet's group. Kids who'd shut themselves off from the world in some sort of self-preservation method. Kids who didn't have anyone around to teach them how to deal with their emotions properly and ended up bottling things up inside, thus lashing out in a lack of any other way to express themselves.

Sokka understands those kids better than he'd like to admit.

"She sounds fun," he offers after a moment of silence.

Suki huffs, something between a laugh and a scoff. "You'd be singing a different tune if you had the soulpains. I don't know where she is, or if she even is my soulmate, but the soulpains I get tell me that whoever it is and wherever they are, they don't like to sit still."

Sokka finds himself laughing quietly at the thought. His soulmate was much the same way and he finds himself bubbling with a humorless laugh at the irony.

Apparently, he isn’t quite quiet enough, because Suki looks his way, an incredulous look on her face.

He offers an apologetic smile. "Sorry, sorry,” he says. "It's just-- well, I kinda get that, is all."

Suki raises an eyebrow, inviting an explanation.

He shrugs. "My soulmate's pretty-- uh-- exuberant?" He has never used that word before and Suki can tell, "yeah, anyway. They're kinda like yours in that sense, ya know?"

Suki nods in understanding. "Sorry about them, I guess."

Sokka snorts. "Yeah, sorry about yours too, I guess."

Suki laughs and they fall back into a companionable silence.

Sokka's never been one for silence, hence why he talks so much, but sitting here, under Yue's light, beside the strongest girl-- strongest person he's ever met, he can't help but feel an odd sense of comfort.

"Kinda wish you were my soulmate," he admits to the stars.

In the corner of his eye, he catches Suki glance his way. "Me too."

Sokka snorts, finding something ironically humorous about it all. "Ya know, who cares about soulmates?"

Suki turns his way once again, an amused glint in her eye and an incredulous eyebrow tilted. “What do you mean?”

Sokka turns to meet her gaze. "I mean, all they really give us a bit of pain-- or, I guess a lot of it, for us. They're hurting us and we're hurting them in return. I don't know about you, but I for one don't think that's the most stable of things to wanna build a relationship on, ya know?"

He half expects her to argue with him about it and how the Spirits chose it for them and how he'll understand one day. But he shouldn't have, as this is Suki after all.

"Yeah, I think I do know," she says quietly, as if sharing a secret. "I've always been told that it's normal and that the pain is a blessing, somehow. Honestly? I don't get it. How can pain be a blessing?"

Sokka could've burst at that very moment if not for the simple fact that he is a human, and that's just not something humans can do on a whim.

He settles for laughing instead. "That's a first," he tells her. “Everyone else I talked to told me the same crap."

Suki laughs along. "I'm really starting to want to tell those Spirits to fuck off, ya know?"

He snorts. "Yeah, that'd be cool, wouldn't it?"

"Too bad they don't pay attention to us."

Sokka finds himself laughing a bit harder at that. "What? You're telling me they screw us over with these weird bonds or whatever and don't even have the decency to watch us miserably crash and burn?"

Suki laughs along. "That's what my elders always said. I tried asking them about it but apparently, questioning the divine Spirits is a grave sin,” she mimics who Sokka presumes to be her village elders.

"Oh, my Gran Gran used to say the same thing," he agrees.

As the night stretches he finds himself enjoying her company more and more. He finds himself wondering to the universe why they hadn't let Suki be his soulmate. Why they hadn't let things be easy, for both of them. Spirits should know they deserved it.

They end the night on a promise.

"Even if we aren't soulmates, wanna try anyway?"

Sokka laughs. "Like a fuck off to the Sprits?"

Suki laughs along-- they'd been doing a lot of that, haven't they? More than Sokka thinks he has in a long time. "Yeah, a fuck off to the Spirits that gave us a screwed over script and didn't bother to stay for the whole show." Suki turns to give him a small, almost nervous, smile. "So, what do you say?"

He stares at her a moment longer.

He had never truly considered what it might be like to never meet his soulmate, what it would be like to not care who his soulmate is.

Sure, he's always been a little apathetic towards them, even with the recent bombarding of feelings, but he's never done anything to directly spite his soulmate. The dagger doesn't count, he tells himself, it wasn't for his soulmate, it was for himself. That's different.

He's never blamed his soulmate nor has he ever wished harm upon them directly. All his spite has always been directed at the concept of soulmates in general, not the person bound to him without choice. It doesn't make sense to blame someone just as screwed over as he is.

With all that said, Sokka finds himself agreeing to Suki and her offer to try to be something more.

She hadn't said it in many words, but he got it. He got her, the same way she got him. He's never felt more understood than when with Suki. The Spirits may not believe it, but Suki is more his person than the one who’s bonded to him involuntarily.

She had a choice, and she chose Sokka. The same way Sokka chose Suki.

Having come to his decision, Sokka turns back to the moon-- no to the world, and in true teenage fashion, he shouts and cusses and flips the stars off. "Fuck off, Spirits!" Except Yue, please.

He hears Suki laugh next to him-- he is starting to truly love that laugh. Something about it makes him feel like he might get addicted to it, and being the teenage boy he is, he doesn't mind the thought of addiction, not to something so beautiful.

"Yeah!" He startles only a little at the raised voice beside him. "Screw you!"

Sokka locks eyes with her, then they burst into a giggling fit, falling back on the rock, clutching their stomachs for dear life.

The next day, Suki leaves, Sokka understands and they kiss.

He knows they'll see each other again. He knows she'll be alright, he knows that things will somehow fold back together.

How does he know this, you ask?

Obviously because the Spirits can't be done with them just yet. He has a feeling that there is so much more in store for them and, was it wrong to be a little excited?

He supposes that no, no it was not wrong in the least to want to see her again.

***

Sokka is going to see his father again.

He’s gonna see his father again and he doesn’t know how to feel. For once, though, it isn’t a matter of lacking anything to feel, but more a sense of too much to feel.

He hasn’t seen his father in nearly three years. Three years ago, Sokka was a twelve-year-old boy desperately trying to fit into the shoes of a man. Three years ago, Sokka was a kid crying into his sister's parka because he wasn’t strong enough. Three years ago, Sokka could barely lift a club. Three years felt like a lifetime ago.

He’s grown, more so than he was when his father left. He’s seen things now– seen a beautiful, young woman make the ultimate sacrifice. He’s done things he’s not proud of and things he’d never come to regret– like leaving their home behind for Katara. He’s not the same kid their father left behind all those years ago.

Maybe it’s the lingering remnants of that child still within him that is nervous. Maybe that child, who still watches his father’s ship disappear into the horizon, is to blame. The child that aches for a strength Sokka now doesn’t know if he deserves. A child who isn’t dead, but buried deep anyway. He wonders if that child would embrace his father wholly and unquestioningly or if Sokka’s own concerns are rooted from the child.

Can he have it both ways? Does it matter?

“Sokka?” Aang’s voice, soft and laced in concern, tethers Sokka back to reality.

“Hm?” He glances up to find the boy staring back at him, grey eyes boring holes into Sokka’s soul.

Aang tilts his head and Sokka notes the furrow of his brow, making him appear a hundred years older, somehow. “You alright?”

Surprised, Sokka huffs, averting his eyes to hopefully mitigate the piercing gaze of his companion. He rubs his neck awkwardly, unsure how to deflect without Aang seeing through his bluff. The guy was good at that for a twelve-year-old at heart. “Sure, I’m fine.”

He’s almost proud of himself for the way he manages to keep his voice from wavering.

Aang doesn’t buy it, either way though. “Are you sure? ‘Cause you just spaced out for a while.”

Sokka curses himself. “I’m fine, Aang. Seriously.”

“Is it about your dad?” The knowing glint in the other’s eyes nearly breaks something in Sokka; something Sokka doesn’t think he could’ve handled breaking.

“It’s just—” he cuts himself to inhale sharply, feeling as though there isn’t enough oxygen in the world for him right now. “It's just been a while, you know?”

“And you’re scared of what he’ll think of you?”

Sokka finds himself laughing at that. Maybe it is that simple, or maybe he can convince himself it is. “That’s part of it. I’m not— I’ve changed… since he left, ya know?”

Aang shifts closer to him, letting their shoulders touch. “I’m sure he won’t think of you any differently.”

Sokka closes his eyes.

Is that what he wants? For his father to continue to see him as the child he had been when the crew had departed? Does Sokka want his father to look at him and still see the dependant, little boy who’d desperately wanted to prove himself?

A part of him thinks yes. He does want his father to see the child, because Sokka still feels like that child, deep down. He looks in the mirror most days and sees the boy crying into his sister’s parka reflect back at him. He wants his father to see it, because Sokka is tired. Tired of pretending he isn’t that child still, that it hasn’t been mere months since he’d stood, alone, on self-built snow walls as the imposing silhouette of a Fire Nation ship docked on his shores. He wants to stop pretending he’d fare any better now than he had back then.

He wants his father to look at him and really see him.

But the larger, more self-preserving part of him thinks no. His father does not have that right. His father had left him and his sister to look after each other, to raise each other. They’d been the parents for each other that they didn’t have anymore. Hakoda does not have the right to step back in and expect to find those same kids waiting for him as though they hadn’t been abandoned.

As irrational as it was, some part of Sokka might forever blame his father for leaving. That part of him may forever fight to hide the child within him.

Then there is that overwhelmingly vocal part of himself that wants approval. His father’s approval. He wants his father to look at him and see someone worth bringing along. He wants his father’s assurance that he won’t be left behind again. He wants the world under his feet to feel a little more solid again.

“I guess,” is Sokka’s noncommittal answer.

***

They lose Ba Sing Se, and nearly Aang right along with.

Everything was going so well. Until it wasn’t, and suddenly, Katara appeared, body trembling, face streaked with tears, cradling an unresponsive Aang in her arms.

Sokka needed no explanation to pull out the boy’s whistle and get them to safety.

Katara does all she can, Aang opens his eyes and they all let out a collective sigh of relief, tears streaking all their cheeks now.

Katara falls unconscious not long after – Sokka suspects it has something to do with the soulpains she won’t talk about – and all other occupants of the rather agitated sky bison are not far behind.

Sokka volunteers himself to stay up, flying Appa far into the Earth Kingdom waters.

He’s not sure why, but he finds himself thinking of his soulmate that night. He hasn’t, not purposefully, since his time with Suki.

***

The Day of Black Sun fails.

It fails so badly, Sokka doesn’t know what to do anymore. This was all he had. This was the battle of his lifetime and he’s– he’d fucked it up.

He wishes he had smothered that fire the moment it came to life. Maybe if he had, maybe if he hadn’t reacted the way he had, maybe if he’d just stopped feeling–

His arms sting with memories of old and he heeds its call.

Unwrapping the cloth has always, always, been his least favorite part of the whole process. He’s never liked being faced with his actions. He knows they’re there, he’s hyper aware of them near-constantly. But to have to actively see them is different to knowing that they’re there.

He knows what they represent though, and that makes everything all the easier to handle.

Looking at every cut he’s made, he can place himself back into the shoes of the desperate little boy who had etched them. He knows the story behind each and every scar, the Whys behind every slash and slit. Realistically, they’re all an amalgamation of not wanting to feel, whatever the particular cause for it had been at the time.

He settles Boomerang a little below his wrist, facing the inside of his elbow.

He knows– he’s known –that this isn’t normal. He knows there’s something wrong, something he should really figure out how to deal with differently. But what’s the point now? He’s managed the majority of his life like this, and he just– he can’t imagine having to for much longer.

Maybe that’s nihilistic, or dramatic. Maybe there’s a better way to do this, to shut out the aches and the pains and the guilt and the sorrow. His mother might have known; maybe his father had. Maybe Katara does, or Aang.

Maybe the person on the other end of his soulbond knows. Maybe they're out there teaching little kids how to cope before those kids have to learn how on their own. Maybe his soulmate had been taught it by a teacher. Or maybe they coped differently, like Sokka but not. Maybe his soulmate hates Sokka for what he puts them both through. Or maybe Sokka’s soulmate doesn’t exist, and his pains were all phantom. Maybe his soulmate died, burned to ash or smothered by rubble, somewhere in the war. Maybe Sokka had failed them, too.

The sharpened edge of the weapon carved neat, symmetrical lines into an already torn up arm.

***

Sokka decides that he’s going to get his father back, no matter what.

He doesn’t care what has to happen– he really doesn’t anymore.

So that’s why he lets Zuko tag along; that’s why he opens up– if only on a surface level –about Yue; that’s why goes into all this without a plan. Plans have never worked for him, anyway.

That’s why he’s so surprised to find Suki here, of all people to be in a Fire Nation prison. He would have laughed at it all if it didn’t make him want to claw his skin out.

He finds Suki, nearly gets his head smashed in and winds up on a cot– something that is apparently meant to be some sick excuse for a bed.

Sokka wants nothing more than to be able to sit with her like this, limbs tangled, breaths slow and even and calm. He wants it so badly it physically hurts.

But he can’t. He knows he can’t. He hates himself for even thinking about it; leaving her, even for a second, after having only just reunited. The thought itself unearths an ache he wishes he could shove back down.

He sighs, noticing then promptly ignoring the way Suki tenses in his embrace.

He stares ahead, the metal door not more than six feet from the cot– Sokka couldn’t imagine living in such tight spaces for so long, even the huts back on the South Pole were larger and more spacious than this.

His heart lurches as an image of Suki pops up in his head. Her, in this cell, curled up on the bed, desperately clawing at nothing for warmth, trying to find the irony in the fact she was surrounded by fire yet so immensely cold, trying to find anything not utterly–

“Everything okay?”

Sokka blinks, the haze that often sweeps him up fading out lazily as he turns his attention to Suki.

Suki who now sat two inches apart from him– two inches further than he would’ve liked. But, somehow, he just couldn’t bring himself to do anything about it; to care enough.

“I’m sorry.” It isn’t enough. It was never enough and it’ll never be enough. But at least he’d made the effort of uttering the words, no matter how pointless they are.

Suki cocks her head to one side– away from the door, he notes, maybe on purpose to deter him from leaving or unconsciously for no other reason than that she prefers her left.

Is she left-handed? Why doesn’t he know that?

“For what?”

Sooka forces out a laugh, bitter and hollow, he knows. “Everything, I guess.”

“If this is about not finding me sooner, Sooka, I get it. Really, I do. You know I do. How were you supposed to know where I was? Or that something happened, at all? It's not like we can send each other letters without one of us being tracked or some shit.”

He wishes he could have sent those letters. Maybe then the fire wouldn’t have been so strong. Maybe then it wouldn’t have burnt down everything as it fled.

“You’ve found me now, haven’t you? Better late than never, no?”

“I didn’t come for you.”

He hadn’t, it’s true, and there was no point lying to her and telling her he’d even bothered. He’d tried his hardest not to think of her until now. The confrontation with Azula was just a little too fresh, too raw, to go digging around it.

“I didn’t look for you, I didn’t bother to at all. I came looking for my dad. He was taken after the battle at the capital and…”

It seems that just kept happening, huh? Suki and his father, both locked up and probably hurt because Sokka couldn’t keep his shit together.

He raises his head– he hadn’t realized it had fallen– to gauge her reaction. “I didn’t look for you, Suki, I didn’t even wanna think about you. I haven’t thought about you since– since that battle.”

Suki’s brows knit together and her nose flares; she looks strained, like she’s thinking hard. He wishes he could decipher what exactly she is thinking about.

Had she already made up her mind to throw him out this cell and never talk to him again?

Or was she going to play this smart and pretend she doesn't care so she could still get out of here– that’s to say Sokka could find his dad and get out himself.

“I don’t– I don’t get it,” she says, her gaze falling from Sokka to the two inches that had, at some point, grown.

Sokka shrugs, shifting so the distance didn’t seem nearly as long as the now seven inches they are apart for. He hangs his head, willing the words out of his mouth. “Thought you died.”

Suki’s head snaps up. “What?”

The word is quiet, whispered, just as Sokka’s own had been. He doesn’t risk a glance her way. He decides that the door and its whole heap of nothing but metal was more comforting than Suki’s face right now.

“Why would you– I thought–” she cuts off with a groan, deep from her throat; the one she used when she was talking to Sokka about his stupidity back on the Serpent's Pass.

He wishes he could go back to that day. He wishes he could take back that promise they made. He was stupid back then, to think it all would work out.

They’re at war. People are dying around them; losing lives, loved ones, homes, livelihoods. He knows, firsthand, just how devastating it could be. He knows what war could do. Yet he still chose to believe. Chose to believe that this tenuous connection with someone he’d hardly spoken with could last.

If he could go back and smack some sense in that kid, he would, without hesitation.

“You thought I died?”

Sokka blinks; once, twice, before coming back to himself. He really needs to get a hold of himself.

“Mm. Had a little chat with Azula.” He refuses to say more than that. He has a sinking feeling he doesn’t need to.

“That bitch– I shoulda just ended things there…” and judging by the way she spoke, he wouldn’t put it past her to go running after the Fire Princess the second she had the chance.

“Not the point though. I would’ve left you for dead if you hadn’t wound up here.”

It took a bit longer this time, for a response to come. He thought maybe she’d given up on finding one. Finally accepting that the person she had fallen for had turned out to be a heartless piece of shit. He wouldn’t blame her for thinking it.

“You thought I died,” she says at last. “If I thought you died, you know what I would’ve done?”

He glances sideways at here, inching an eyebrow ever so slightly in question.

“I would’ve gone out there and done whatever else I could. I would’ve gone out there, looking for the people I knew to be alive, for the things I knew I could do to help,” she pauses, smiling, “like what you’re doing.”

Sokka doesn’t know what to think. He doesn’t get it. How is she not furious with him? Or at the very least, hurt? It’s almost as if someone she’d considered a partner hadn’t just gone and said he’d never looked for her when she disappeared.

Then again, would he have been upset if the roles were reversed? He couldn’t rightly say he would have.

“Had you known me to be alive, would you have come looking?”

Yes, he wants to say. He would have in a heartbeat. He just couldn’t say why.

“Of course, I would! That’s not the– look, I…” he trails off, trying his damndest to articulate what it was he was trying to say. He frankly doesn’t know what that is, exactly. That’s probably the problem.

“If you would, and you’ve found me… I don’t see the issue here.” She reaches out a hand and squeezes his shoulder. He knows, he knows, that it was meant to be a reassuring gesture. That it was meant to make him feel better, get him to think straighter.

But it just left him feeling hollow, empty. The touch he’d once craved more than anything else, felt distant and unreal in a way he couldn’t put to words. Maybe that was the problem.

“I don’t know, Suki, I– a lot’s been going on lately, and I just… I– I don’t know if I can do this anymore.”

He means it in more ways than one, but for the purposes of this particular conversation, he figures she’d understand. He doesn’t dare turn her way to confirm whether she does or not, he does not want to see the utter betrayal on her face.

“Oh,” she says simply.

The small sound reverberates around the cell, reminding Sokka of just how small this room is. Of just how long Suki likely spent here, wondering when she’d be able to get out, wondering about him maybe.

“Did you find your soulmate, then?”

Sokka blinks, momentarily caught off guard by the simple way she asks the question. He does turn then. She is smiling, small and sad, but a true smile nonetheless. He knows, without knowing how he knows, what her strained, put-on smiles look like.

Her eyes search his face calmly, a sad yet knowing glint to them that makes Sokka want to both storm out the room and never look back, and grab her in a hug and never let go.

“No,” he says shortly, “it’s not– it’s not that.”

Suki sighs, turning away and leaning back on the wall. She brings her legs to her chest, just enough for her to place her outstretched arms on them. She doesn’t say anything, not for a long while.

Sokka couldn’t see her face anymore, not properly; not enough to make out anything that might tell him what she’s thinking about. Not that he’d had any luck with that before either.

“I get it,” she says finally. “You’re tired. There’s so much happening, with the war and– I get it.” She glances at him shortly, doesn’t say anything more, but Sokka understands what she’s leaving out.

She’s tired too, they both are.

Maybe this could’ve worked out if they weren’t at war. Maybe this could’ve actually meant something if they were soulmates. Maybe that was the problem. Maybe not.

“I’m sorry,” and he knows it’s not enough. It’s never enough, he knows. “I’m sorry.”

Suki lets them fall into an uneasy silence. A silence he never would’ve expected from her. He’d always felt unnaturally comfortable around her. It had scared him at first, back on Kyoshi Island. And it scares him now. He wishes he could change this. Somehow.

She turns to him, a quiet tilt of her lips and asks, “are you leaving me here, then?”

Sokka’s eyes blow wide and he stares at her, dumbfounded. “What the hell, Suki? No fucking way!”

She nods. “Didn’t think so.”