Work Text:
Datu manages to squeeze Jae's hand, before they're put to work.
Chancellor Kayoko is in a right state. Her hair is coming loose from its intricate updo, and she's covered in dust. Every word that leaves her mouth is harsh and furious, just barely controlled. If she had been a bender, fire would be pouring out of her nose right now.
The whole building is in a right state, really: rubble everywhere, shards of quickly melting ice and splattered food decorating the floors and ceilings. The giant crack splits the central chamber in half, a gaping maw dropping down to unknown depths. Everywhere, Datu can hear harsh whispers and murmurs, the moans of the injured and the afflicted.
This morning, there had been parades.
But Datu manages to squeeze Jae's hand, so that's something. He's pretty sure that's something.
Jae is quiet as they work their way through the compound, checking room by room. There are thousands of nooks and crannies, and Jae leads them through all of them. Which makes sense: Datu had always known, of course, that Jae had grown up here. This had been his playground, not just his training ground.
Now, though, with Agam's voice ringing in his ears…. Datu tries to imagine Jae at seven years old: big-eyes, small hands, putting on the Brigade uniform. Ready to serve.
(He tries not to think of the Avatar's big eyes, the Avatar's small hands. Datu reminds himself about the terrifying energy, the world cracking open, and it's easier to put everything else aside.)
They move quickly, concisely, and with little regard for cleanliness or careful handling. A near frantic energy pushes them onwards. This is not a search; it's a hunt.
The only pause in their rough turn-over of the compound is the barracks.
They're in one of the rooms made for housing new cadets, rows upon rows of bunk beds, but only half or so filled. A group of some sixteen or so tiny benders are staring up at them for a moment, for two, and then there's a quiet tornado of whispering behind their hands at each other. Then, suddenly, one of them jerks and runs to plant themselves in front of their bunk, hissing a loud, "You guys!"
There's a flurry of movement, and they're all rushing to form a line at the foot of their beds, hands tucked behind their backs, feet together and chins up. A few of the smaller ones haven't quite gotten the hang of it, and they peer at their neighbors before copying them.
Datu catches a few of his crew sharing uncomfortable glances.
"Jae?" one of the braver cadets asks. His hair is flattened on one side, like he just woke up.
For the first time in hours, Datu sees his partner become animated and alive again, something less hollow behind his eyes. "It's okay, Ulan, everyone." He glances around. One of the younger kids can barely keep his eyes open. "I know it's late. We're just doing a sweep, and then we'll be out of your hair, alright? Can everyone stand by the wall?"
Someone groans, "Another one?" and another someone just as quickly hushes them. They all gather up against the wall regardless, and Jae stays with them while Datu and his crew do their search. Datu can see him out of the corner of his eye: Jae in a crouch while the kids cluster around him. They're talking, but it's too quiet for him to hear: just the impression of voices and Jae's head bobbing up and down. The smallest one is leaning against Jae's shoulder, hand fisted in his tunic, yawning.
(Was Jae ever that small?)
Datu finds no Avatar, just a stuffed animal in the shape of a lop-eared rabbit tucked between the mattress and the baseboard. Quietly, he puts it back where he found it.
"Nothing here," Inaya says at last, and Jae looks up, his face shutting down again. He offers a single, curt nod, and his jaw is clenched tight enough that Datu can feel it in his teeth.
"Alright, everyone, it's past curfew. In your beds, let's go-"
There's shuffling feet and complaining, but it's late enough that it's more of a token protest than anything. A few of the cadets call out "Goodnights!" and "See you later, Jae!" A few of them wave.
Jae closes the double doors behind him, and for a second or so he just… stays there. Head bowed.
Datu is hit by an overwhelming feeling to pull him into his arms. Something's not right here. It's too much, it's been such a long night, Jae needs-
But it's too late. Jae straightens up, a puppet pulled on by its strings. "We'll check the barracks for graduated cadets next," Jae says, and turns on his heel. The tiled walls catch his reflection in the torchlight as he marches away and onwards. Datu sighs, and reminds himself that Jae is the strongest, most stubborn person that Datu has ever met. He can handle this.
The hunt continues.
Official members of the Brigade get their own rooms, Datu knows this. A privilege rewarded for getting through the first batch of their training.
They're small rooms. Datu also knows this, remembers it from brief visits in the past; Jae, fourteen years old and yanking Datu onto his bed to excitedly show him his brand new air scooter, carefully saved and bargained for. Jae, fifteen years old, rambling so passionately about the latest set of forms and regulations until Datu had no choice but to kiss him.
They're small rooms; he's always known this. But again, again, suddenly it's reframed and alien, seeing two or three guards squeeze into narrow spaces, glancing under beds and checking the cupboards. A couple of people have hung up posters or photos. A few have managed to cram in a chair or a little table into the available floorspace, a chest for keepsakes. They find stashes of contraband food, or some supplies for hobbies and crafting. Most of them are sparse.
(A thought, sudden: Jae has come over to Datu's apartment more than once with the sole purpose of using his shower. The shared locker rooms of the compound gross him out sometimes, making him anxious and twitchy. The first few times, Datu had to reassure him near constantly that yes, really, it's fine. Even though Datu's a bit of a slob, his restroom is always diligently cleaned. Any excuse to see Jae is a good one, so he's never really thought about it, but-)
It's quick work, making their way through the rooms. Datu thinks about all those benders, walking off into the desert with nothing but the Brigade uniforms on their backs. He thinks about the things he keeps in his apartment; the life he's built there over the last two years. Would he be able to walk away from it so easily?
Lost in thought, Datu almost misses it when they slide open the door to Jae's room.
Jae doesn't even twitch as a couple of guards pour inside, giving no indication that it's his personal space they're invading. Datu recognizes it, though; a mug he had bought for Jae for his birthday sits beside his bed.
It's quick, it's efficient. It's nothing more or less than what every other room of the compound has been treated with, or every room that's still to come. Still, Datu watches Veer rifle through Jae's uniforms and Mehar quickly file through Jae's neat piles of papers, putting things back not quite in place, and feels slightly nauseous. The cadet from before comes back to him, asking, "Another one?"
There are no locks on any of the residence doors.
Nearly as quickly as they entered, Veer and Mehar tramp back out. Jae's perfectly made bed is slightly askew. His closet door is left open. Jae's face is very blank and still.
Datu wants to grab Jae's hand, wants to wrap an arm around his shoulder, but every muscle in Jae's body is stiff in a way that may as well be beaming Do Not Touch Me directly in Datu's brain, so he doesn't.
Not yet, he tells himself. Soon.
But it's not soon. Can't be, with the rest of their exhaustive search. Can't be, because they get back to the central room and the mess is still there, waiting for them.
"Datu," Chancellor Koyoko says, whirling to face them. Her expression is severe and stiff "There you are, good. Any luck in finding the Avatar?"
Datu straightens. "No, Chancellor. We've searched the whole compound."
"Then search all of Ellora! She is not getting away with this."
Then she turns on the benders.
Jae is gone from his side in a flash, suddenly standing straight spined and stiff in front of the remains of the Brigade. His feet are tucked together, his chin raised. A scattered collection of benders in reds, greens, blues, and oranges straighten with him as one, all looking a little worse for wear.
(Jae's hands are not behind his back. It's a little detail, but it's one he notices: Jae's hands are loose and steady at his sides.)
There are so few of them. Datu feels- strange…. seeing it. There are so, so few of them. A few weeks ago, he had been scared about the rot in the heart of Ellora, the Bending Brigade sitting on their high horses. There's been a very real core of anger and fright at the very heart of him, the thought of the Avatar tucked away in her high citadel, plotting their very destruction-
The great protectors of their city mostly just look tired now. A bedraggled group of teenagers and twenty-somethings, standing at the ready.
The Avatar was real, though. So. So-
So he doesn't know. It feels like Datu doesn't know anything, anymore.
"Brigade," Chancellor Koyoko says, and pauses. Her eyes narrow, her spine manages to make an even straighter line. She turns away and starts towards the doors. "Clean this up. Please."
It's past midnight. Datu wants to protest, and wants to argue that it's a mess that can wait till morning, or that having benders on the search for the Avatar would be a much better use of everyone's time.
But he doesn't. She doesn't trust them. Datu's not sure he trusts them either. So he doesn't.
He does trust Jae, though, trusts in Jae's good heart. He doesn't watch the Chancellor walk away, just watches Jae shift his shoulders like they're carrying more weight then he knows how to hold. Jae used to express admiration over Commander Karthik, the way he managed to keep the Brigade up and running. Jae used to look at Commander Karthik with stars in his eyes, like he could do no wrong. It must have taken an impossible amount of bravery to stand up to him. Datu hadn't lied, when he had said he was proud.
(And concerned. Quite a lot concerned. Seduced? What does that even mean? The Commander meant so much to Jae, and the Commander held all the power in the world over him, and what does 'No' mean in a situation where the Faceless apparently have to stage a coup to allow people a chance to leave? There are no locks on the residency doors. Datu is very, very concerned.)
Datu wants to squeeze Jae's hand. Datu wants to fix his hair, tangled and pulled and coming loose from its tie. Datu wants to fix this- Jae's hollow eyes, this whole situation, Ellora- and he has no idea how.
He has orders, though, so he goes out on a possibly futile hunt for the Avatar, knowing she's successfully hidden herself right under their noses for years, knowing there is very little he can do even if he finds her. As he and his crew turn to continue their search, he hears a more subdued version of Jae's "Squad Leader" voice.
"Alright, team." A pause. "I know- it's late. I know we're tired. But we can get through this if we work together. Okay? We'll start with bringing the central chamber up to code. Lan, Darsh, I need you on fixing cracks in supports and walls. Tala, Ridhi, let's see if we can clear away any debris…."
Datu heads out into the night and doesn't hear the rest.
He makes it back three hours later, empty handed. The Avatar has vanished again, and the rest of his unit has gone home. Patrols are still making their way in a tight set of rounds, and tomorrow he'll be working overtime, but the rest of the night belongs to him.
It seems like Jae had the same idea; he's the only one left in the central chamber. Everywhere Datu looks, he can see evidence of the clean up crew's work; the seams of earthbending repairs and the neat pile of debris. Jae is mechanically wiping at the grand dining table, hair hanging loose and hiding his face.
Datu almost lost him, tonight. It hits him, again: the vision of Jae's defiant expression as the Faceless woman yanked at him, the weapons thrown in his face, the danger. It was always a possibility, of course, but-
There's no good way to end that.
Datu approaches slowly, carefully. Jae scrubs at a perfectly clean spot of table, tight circular motions again and again and again. He flinches when Datu lightly touches his elbow.
"Hey, it's just me," Datu says, and Jae stares at him for one long, slow blink. Then his smile flickers on, like a dying candle.
"Datu. Hi." His fingers twitch around the rag. "It's late."
"I know. It's why I came to check on my hardworking boyfriend."
Jae goes back to scrubbing. "Yeah, yeah- just let me finish this, and then I'll go to bed and get some sleep. Really." He tucks his hair behind his ear with one hand.
For a moment, it's all so normal. They've had this conversation a thousand times. Jae finishing a pile of paperwork, or a round of katas, or the last few things on his checklist-
But Datu thinks about Jae's room, all his things touched and out of place. He thinks about his door with no locks on it. He thinks about Jae's hollow eyes.
"I think that table's about as clean as you can get it." Datu tries for a chuckle, and it falls flat. He risks touching Jae's elbow again, but Jae's shoulder hitch upwards and he doesn't push it. "Look, things were crazy today." Licking his lips, he searches for the best way to frame his next words. "I- I'd really appreciate it if you slept at mine tonight. It would make me feel better, I mean."
Jae's looking at him. Datu suddenly can't meet his eyes, so he stares at the ridiculously clean table. How long has his partner been standing here, polishing? He can literally see his reflection. "I just want to be close to you, right now," his reflection admits, and Datu kind of hates how small his voice sounds.
Another long, drawn out pause. Then Jae's reflection slumps, just a bit. The world's quietest sigh fills the empty space. "Fine, okay. Okay. Yeah. Let's go."
This is usually more of a fight: Jae worrying about infractions and filling in all the appropriate paperwork, worrying about how people might think he's shirking his duties when Datu knows for a fact that Jae hasn't missed a day of training or work for years. Datu is not going to complain that tonight, at least, it's this easy: request, and then response.
Even if it just worries him more.
They make their way through the city streets, and the night is heavy and humid. Clouds trace endless swirling patterns on a grey canvas. Jae's hands are folded against his chest, like he's worried Datu might try to steal one. His head is on a swivel. It would be a lie to say that Datu isn't a little more alert than usual, too.
They don't talk much.
Datu takes out his key and inserts it into the rickety old lock, swinging the door open with a sigh of relief. He ushers Jae inside and finally, finally shuts the door and the rest of the world out. The key gets tossed into its little bowl, his boots get lined up by the door, and the lantern by the door is lit. Datu starts tugging off his armour. His voice bounces off his chestplate as he asks, "Are you hungry? I didn't see you eating at the Summit. I have some eggs I can cook up-"
"I could eat."
"Great. Eggs, coming right up. You just sit down at the table and I'll put this away, okay? Give me two seconds."
"Two seconds," Jae echoes faintly.
It's not quite two seconds, but it's close. Datu's apartment is practically a mansion compared to the barrack rooms, but that doesn't mean it's all that big. He drops off his armour in a pile inside his wardrobe, changes out of his sweaty undershirt, and hustles back to where Jae is waiting at the table-
Jae is not at the table. Jae is standing right at the door where he left him.
Jae is crying.
It's not loud. It is, in fact, near silent. His shoulders are jumping slightly with his hitching breath, his hands buried in his hair and tugging. Big, salty drops drip off his chin and onto the wooden floors. His jaw is clenched tight.
"Oh, Jae," Datu breathes.
Jae just squeezes his eyes shut, his whole body trembling with terrible tension. The tears are still falling, and he tugs at his hair again, harder than before.
Everything inside of him wants to run to him, but Datu makes himself move at a pace more akin to approaching a frightened animal. Very quietly, he says, "I'm going to touch you now, okay?"
He taps Jae's wrists first, and when there's no flinching or jerking away, he carefully detangles Jae's fingers from his hair. It's a relief to be allowed this at all. "You're okay, you're okay, we're okay, everything's okay-"
A quiet grunt, and Jae shakes his head, one sharp burst of movement. His eyes are still closed, his breath still hitching, his whole body shaking like a leaf caught in a storm.
"Okay, maybe everything's not okay, but we don't have to worry about that right now. Right now, we are going to breathe, and then we are going to get ourselves cleaned up, and then we're going to bed. That's it. That's our checklist. Okay?"
A pause, and for a moment Datu's worried that Jae's gone so far into his own head that he's no longer hearing him. Then Jae gives a sharp nod, which is good, even if Datu can hear the way his partner's teeth are grinding together. He sighs, just a little, and pulls Jae closer into a hug. "Come here."
Jae shakes against him for a minute, a wet patch growing slowly against his neck, breathing raggedly all the while. Eventually, he gets out a strained, "Sorry. Sorry, Datu-"
Datu just hums, and holds him. He's not sure if there's anything else he can do.
There had been words he had wanted to exchange tonight. Apologies, and questions, and concerns. Things Jae's still hiding, even now. Ellora is falling apart at the seams, and it's as if every person in the city is choking on secrets, including Datu himself. He's upset. He's angry. He's so, so scared.
But Jae's clearly in no place to talk tonight, and Datu knows it. It looks like their long overdue conversation is going to be pushed off yet again. In the morning, it's possible he'll feel a little frustrated about this, and a little guilty about feeling so frustrated.
But Jae is in his arms, breathing, and that's by far the most important thing. His head is resting on his shoulder, tucked against his neck. Datu knows he's taller, of course, but he doesn't tend to think of Jae as small. Jae is energy and movement and endless determination, big gestures, big smiles, big heart. It's hard to think of him as small when he puts so much of himself in almost everything he does.
Even when Datu was just the new rookie on the block, bursting with big ideas about giving back to his community, and Jae had been a full head shorter then he is now... he still seemed so mature; the guy who was friendly and cute and fun to spar with, always ready to lend a helpful hand and share some hard-earned wisdom. He knew everyone, recited the rule book off the top of his head, and loved his home. Datu hadn't looked at him and seen a kid. He'd seen a kindred spirit.
.... He was the same age Jae is now, when he signed up. He's never thought of it like that.
It doesn't matter. Datu pushes the thought aside and pulls Jae closer instead, kisses his temple once, twice. He imagines Jae like this, repressing sobs alone in his room, and is impossibly glad that he's here instead.
They stay like that for a long, long time, until at last the trembling stops and Jae is a dead weight against his side.
His partner is almost catatonic as Datu leads him to the bathroom. Sits pliantly by the sink basin as it fills with water. In the kitchen, Datu sets a pot to boil, and while they wait he frees the straps to Jae's breastplate, and then frees the loose strands of long hair Jae managed to pull from his own head, tangled in his fingers.
The pot boils, and Datu pours it into the basin, tucks his fingers inside to make sure the water won't burn. He leans Jae's head over it and murmurs, "Close your eyes."
Jae does.
It takes a while, pouring water through Jae's hair, and then working the soap through it. The last time they had done this, it was because Jae had his wrist slashed open and couldn't get the bandages wet, and Jae had blushed wildly the whole time, talking a mile a minute and trading smart alec remarks in turn.
Here, now, Jae is a warm, quiet weight against his thigh. Breathing soft, his body still. It's possible he's meditating, honestly. He's been trying to do that more, recently. Datu pours cupful after cupful of water, smells wax and honey because it's the only soap Jae actually likes the scent of. He washes away dust and grime, and wishes he could wash away the feeling of other people's hands grabbing and pulling, the weight of bad memories.
"Towel," Datu warns, shifting to be behind him, and dries his hair just enough that it's no longer dripping. Jae hates making a mess.
His hair is a long, dark river down his back, and Datu gently bites the inside of his cheek as he divides it into three sections. Gently, gently, careful not to tug- because enough people have yanked his boyfriend around by his head today- he starts weaving the strands together until he manages a passable, if practical and plain, braid. Through the crack in the restroom window, a tepid breeze filters into the room.
"Two steps down, one to go," Datu murmurs, mostly to himself, and then helps Jae to his feet.
He guides Jae to his wardrobe and pulls out a spare change of clothes, tucked away and ready for this very moment. For almost too long, Jae stares at the pile of fabric in his arms, not moving. Then he mechanically takes off the rest of his Brigade uniform and pulls them on.
It's well past three in the morning, and Datu tugs Jae into his bed, feels the long length of warmth beside him and wishes that things could just stay like this, simple and easy and good. They won't. They can't. They aren't any of those things, not really. But it's nice to imagine it.
Datu pulls his partner closer. Being horizontal has zapped the last of his energy. The siren call of sleep is singing his name, laying there in the quiet. Jae's eyes are dark and grey like stormclouds, watching him. He still looks so tired.
It hits him again: the image of Jae, small and new.
Did he play the same games Datu had played as a child, spinning in dizzying circles and chanting sing-song rhymes until everyone toppled over? Datu hasn't thought about such silly, mundane things in years, and the memory is hazy and nostalgia soaked. Does Jae have memories like that?
Who did he go to, before Datu? When he was upset. When he was scared. If Datu hadn't insisted, tonight, would there have been anyone at all to catch him at his breaking point? The bed creaks under his shifting weight, and his thoughts are syrup slow. Jae's face is still a bit swollen and red from tears, and all Datu can think about is when he learned how to cry like that; near silent, fighting for control over every shuddering breath.
He wonders if Jae had his own stuffed animal as a kid, carefully tucked away in hopes that no one would find it. He wonders how long it took Jae to learn how to stand like that, straight spined and ready to give his life for Ellora. It's always been one of Datu's favourite features; his dedication to their home. Now, the thought has a bitter aftertase.
"Hey," Datu says, and breathes in to say, "I love you," or maybe, "Are you okay?" Maybe, guiltily, his next words would be, "What aren't you telling me?" A part of him just wants to ask, "There was a song I used to know as a kid. 'Ashes, ashes, we all fall down.' Have you ever heard of it?
Something. Anything.
But Jae just shakes his head, and closes his eyes. He whispers into Datu's collar bone, voice cracking, "I can't. Not tonight."
"Jae-"
"Please, Datu."
Jae is the strongest, most stubborn person that Datu has ever met. That much is still true. "Okay," he murmurs. "Okay." Carefully, he rolls so that he can take one of Jae's hands in his own. Sleep is tugging at his eyelids, at his body and mind. The day has been so, so long. Still- "You can tell me anything. You know that?"
There might have been any answer beyond a soft inhale and exhale, but he isn't awake to hear it.
Datu slips out of dreamland just after six in the morning, the light of dawn barely beginning to seep through the windows.
Jae's side of the bed is already cold.