HOME | DD

Description
he watched the fire burst from the soldier’s fist, time slowing as his best friend pushed a younger soldier out of the way. he was scared. he shouldn’t have been but watching the fire flicker against skin, burning, scarring, melting, twisting; it took him back. back to that day when the southern raiders came, that day when he lost his wife, his love, the mother of his children. her charred corpse lying there on the floor of his home; he wished that they would have taken prisoners that day. he wished he had never seen her remains, he wished more that Katara hadn’t seen them as well. death leaves no hope, only misery and heart break.

a pained scream, almost too animal, like an injured wolf broke him from the image of his wife; he now focused on his friend falling in slow motion, hitting the ground, arm scorched. Bato. his friend, comrade, second-in-command, confidante. the man he had grown up with, played pranks with, spent countless days with; so many memories, so much of his life. the man he had grown to love, cherish more dearly than anything besides his kids. Bato, who now lay in the dirt, fire nation soldier poised over him, preparing the final blow.

no!

he couldn’t let it happen again; he wouldn’t lose another person he loved. he couldn’t stand to have his heart break again. not again, not again.

rushing forward, no second thoughts, he shoved the soldier away. His warriors circled around him, driving the soldiers away, but he didn’t care. Bato was his focus now. his world, burnt earth. please don’t die, please don’t die.

he sighed, relieved as those eyes opened again, weak smile, forced, played on his lips. if he were a weaker man, not calloused by war, he would have started crying then. no he would have been crying earlier, but different tears, sad tears. now would be happy tears. but warriors don’t cry, don’t show emotion. especially not in battle, not during war; not even if their best friend died. those lips parted, words forming on them, flowing out of them.

I’m sorry.

don’t ever scare me like that again.

he cradled his friend in his arms, determined to protect him, to find help for him. Bato was lighter than he remembered, seemed so fragile now, yet still strong, fighting the pain. his heart beat faster, fluttering, with bato’s head resting against his chest. In another time, another situation, this would be romantic. not now, not in the ashes of pain.

he took him to the nuns, to a place of healing, of nurturing, of pleasant smells. he would have to leave him, he had to give him time to heal; he didn’t want to, he was selfish, he was childish.

blue eyes pleaded with him, begging please don’t leave me.; he wanted to stay, never leave. forever side-by-side; that’s how things were supposed to be, carrying each other through life’s struggles. but he had to leave; Bato would hae to understand.

Because he had to leave.

I love you.

Description
he watched the fire burst from the soldier’s fist, time slowing as his best friend pushed a younger soldier out of the way. he was scared. he shouldn’t have been but watching the fire flicker against skin, burning, scarring, melting, twisting; it took him back. back to that day when the southern raiders came, that day when he lost his wife, his love, the mother of his children. her charred corpse lying there on the floor of his home; he wished that they would have taken prisoners that day. he wished he had never seen her remains, he wished more that Katara hadn’t seen them as well. death leaves no hope, only misery and heart break.

a pained scream, almost too animal, like an injured wolf broke him from the image of his wife; he now focused on his friend falling in slow motion, hitting the ground, arm scorched. Bato. his friend, comrade, second-in-command, confidante. the man he had grown up with, played pranks with, spent countless days with; so many memories, so much of his life. the man he had grown to love, cherish more dearly than anything besides his kids. Bato, who now lay in the dirt, fire nation soldier poised over him, preparing the final blow.

no!

he couldn’t let it happen again; he wouldn’t lose another person he loved. he couldn’t stand to have his heart break again. not again, not again.

rushing forward, no second thoughts, he shoved the soldier away. His warriors circled around him, driving the soldiers away, but he didn’t care. Bato was his focus now. his world, burnt earth. please don’t die, please don’t die.

he sighed, relieved as those eyes opened again, weak smile, forced, played on his lips. if he were a weaker man, not calloused by war, he would have started crying then. no he would have been crying earlier, but different tears, sad tears. now would be happy tears. but warriors don’t cry, don’t show emotion. especially not in battle, not during war; not even if their best friend died. those lips parted, words forming on them, flowing out of them.

I’m sorry.

don’t ever scare me like that again.

he cradled his friend in his arms, determined to protect him, to find help for him. Bato was lighter than he remembered, seemed so fragile now, yet still strong, fighting the pain. his heart beat faster, fluttering, with bato’s head resting against his chest. In another time, another situation, this would be romantic. not now, not in the ashes of pain.

he took him to the nuns, to a place of healing, of nurturing, of pleasant smells. he would have to leave him, he had to give him time to heal; he didn’t want to, he was selfish, he was childish.

blue eyes pleaded with him, begging please don’t leave me.; he wanted to stay, never leave. forever side-by-side; that’s how things were supposed to be, carrying each other through life’s struggles. but he had to leave; Bato would hae to understand.

Because he had to leave.

I love you.