Chapter Text
The thing about being the “plan guy” is you start to see them unfolding everywhere, whether they exist or not- that would be a perfect spot for an ambush, this would be a good nook to hide some weapons, those are ideal exits. It also lends itself to critiquing the plans of others- poking holes in strategies, predicting next steps. The possibilities constantly buzz around in his head like bumble flies- some louder than others. And there’s one he just can’t swat away:
Tracking down a secret avatar staff that grants people airbending is Plan A material. That can’t be the end of it.
If the Denied were organized enough to get as close to Avatar Sonam’s staff as they did… they must have a plan B, C- D, even. Any “plan guy” worth their salt would have plans down to J, at the very least. He preferred living somewhere in the realm of plan-Q. But not everybody is Sokka of the Southern Water Tribe, saviour of the world, and best friend (and trusted confidant) of the Avatar and the Fire Lord. He won’t give the Denied that much credit, but he’s not about to underestimate them, either.
So, he tells everyone he’ll be staying in Republic City for a change of pace- assist with the repairs to the city, take a break from babysitting the Water Tribe kids that refuse to acknowledge his vital importance to the conclusion of the Hundred Year War. Aang is grateful for the former; Katara shakes her head, amused, at the latter; Zuko huffs a little laugh that makes his chest tighten; and Toph doesn’t call attention to the half-truth, if she even noticed it at all.
Just as planned.
The group lingers in the city for a few days, unwilling to let go of their latest reunion just yet- they’ve been getting fewer and farther between in the past decade. Aang and Katara are pulled around the world on Avatar and Councillor business; Toph follows the call of what she’s named education, but they all know to be a thinly veiled pursuit of a fight worth her time; and Zuko, well- ruling a nation undoing one-hundred years of harm takes more time than even the Avatar is called to fill.
He bears it well, though. Probably ‘cause of the shoulders. Which is normal to notice. He notices things. Planners are… noticers.
Tui and La, Sokka. Get it together.
He almost tells Zuko his real reason for staying the night before everybody leaves. A hole-less airship had been sent from the Fire Nation to reclaim their Lord, and they wordlessly deemed its arrival the next day to be the conclusion of their adventure. Aang and Katara had seen themselves to bed, and Toph had gone off in search of “more fun.” Whatever that means. Which left the two eldest members of Team Avatar to themselves. Alone time with the Fire Lord is even rarer than Team Avatar reunions, so Sokka let himself revel in it while he could.
They sat on a balcony overlooking the steady sprawl of Republic City and the expanse of Yue Bay beyond it, legs stuck through the balusters and hanging in the early-morning twilight. He didn’t want to disturb the quiet overmuch, so he’d sat himself on Zuko’s right side where he could keep his voice low and still be heard. The man doesn’t let on that his hearing is worse on his left side, but there’s a small tell Sokka has noticed. A slight tilt of his head that puts his right ear that much closer to whoever is speaking. It is slight, though. But Sokka is a noticer, as stated. He… notices these things. About everyone. Not just the firebender at his side.
Unexpectedly, it was Zuko who broke the silence first, running a finger along his own arm and nodding toward Sokka’s, “Are those new?”
Sokka had looked down at his arms, seen the stripes and triangles of his kakiniit peeking out from beneath his armbands. “Oh, yeah.” He started unwrapping the cloth around his left arm absently, revealing the tattoos circling from wrist to elbow. They’re mirrored on his right arm as well, but one was enough to show off, “Turns out I covered a lot of milestones back in the Team Avatar days.” He ran a finger over the darker lines near his elbow, only a month old and lacking the time-faded ink of the bands around his wrists, “Being down South helped me catch up and earn some more.”
He held out his arm for Zuko to inspect the markings and felt the warmth of his hand settle under his elbow. The firebender’s thumb brushed over his newest kakiniit, and if Sokka didn’t know that Zuko couldn’t lightning bend, he’d have accused him of sending sparks running up his arm. He’d been spared from interrogating the thought by Zuko’s question as he traced the row of triangles circling just below his elbow, “What earned these?”
He’d had to swallow back the gravity of the encounter, unwilling to dampen one of the few occasions he’s had to spend in Zuko’s company. He gave him the version that doesn’t end with him spending two weeks in the company of the healers that relocated from the North after the War. He leaned into the pride he’s only been able to feel in the aftermath, “Hunting. A dolphin piranha was giving one of the smaller settlements some trouble during fishing trips.” And then he was lost to the retelling, waving his free arm for emphasis, “The thing was so fast, Zuko, I couldn’t believe it. And it was smart. No wonder it was such a problem- scared away their fish, cleaned out their traps, and nearly got one of the kids that fell from their umiak.” Did manage to get him, though. He resisted rubbing a hand over the pale scars encircling his torso, two perfect rows of teeth etched into his right side.
Instead, he placed his free hand to his chest, tone theatrical, overriding the residual shaky fear he felt thinking back on the encounter, “Thankfully for them, the great and knowledgeable Sokka got word of the problem and managed to rig up a pressure-powered harpoon fast enough to stop it. Took some trial and error, just had to figure out how to keep the release point for the pressure precise and strong enough to push the spear without compromising the structure of the-” Then he’d caught the amused smirk Zuko was failing to mask, felt heat flushing up the back of his neck, and cut the story short, “I managed to stop the thing and gave it back to the settlement- dolphin piranha parts can go a long way for a community that small.” He shrugged, playing at being humble, “Nice to know I’m still useful back home.”
In all honesty, he didn’t think that nearly dying taking down the dolphin piranha was enough to earn the triangles lining his arm. Sloppy work after months of slacking in his form practice and feeling sorry for himself. But the tribe insisted. When his scars are hidden beneath his tunic, the shapes are a grizzly reminder of the animal’s teeth embedded in his side. He’s thankful for the kakiniit, now, they also tell him he survived, yet again, against the odds dealt to him. “Not yet,” they say- there’s more you can do.
Zuko had been quiet, gaze returning to the ink in his skin before he hummed a question that brought him back to the present, “And yet you’re staying here?”
Sokka inhaled, felt the plan forming in his head bubble to the surface, tickle the back of his throat, but quelled it with another shrug, deflected, “I’ve been down there almost a year- a change of scenery will do me some good. Aang’s nomadic ways really rubbed off on me; what can I say?” He smirked at Zuko, buried Suki’s voice in his head telling him he’s running, always running. From what? Who knows. Suki seemed to, but she never elaborated, and he’s too stubborn to ask.
So, he deflected further, nodding toward Zuko with a tick of his chin, “You haven’t put your crown back on.” He’d noticed it never made a return, even after the dust settled following their fight with Tagah and the Denied. He let his curiosity resurface to take the attention off of himself. Regretfully, it had Zuko removing his hand, mirroring his shrug before leaning back, arms bracing him from behind, “Not being immediately recognized as the Fire Lord is… nice. Sometimes.”
Sokka had laughed, reaching up to clap Zuko’s shoulder, not wanting to let go of their contact just yet, “I’m sorry to tell you, buddy, but you’re pretty recognizable- even without the crown.” Which earned him a sidelong glance as Zuko gestured to his own face, “Yeah, well-”
Sokka cut him off, hand tightening on Zuko’s shoulder, “No, no- I didn’t mean your scar. It’s the way you carry yourself.” He removed his hand to make a wide gesture at the firebender, then puffed out his chest, and straightened his posture, rocking in place as if he were walking in the streets below their feet, “All confident Mr. Fire Lord.” He dropped the stance, limbs loose again, “You’d stand out in any crowd.” At Zuko’s raised brow, he’d corrected, flapping his hand, “Not in a bad way, just…” He sighed, “You’ve grown into the title, and it suits you, is what I’m saying.” Which was too close to noticing too much, so he reached for another redirect.
He gave Zuko a wide grin, swallowed back an old, scabbed-over thing in his chest that he doesn’t put a name to, “But maybe fatherhood is to blame, ehh? How’r Mai and Izumi doing?”
Curiously, the question had a few emotions warring on Zuko’s face, “Mai is… Mai. She’s doing well.” Then a subdued sort of pride settled in his expression, setting the amber of his irises aglow, “Izumi is turning two next month, can you believe it?” And it nearly bowled Sokka over, “Two! Are you kidding? I can’t believe I missed her first birthday!” He knew exactly why he had- fresh off the end of his relationship with Suki and somehow smart enough not to seek comfort in this particular best friend and his perfect little family. Instead, he’d turned South, tail tucked between his legs, and had been there until Aang’s message arrived.
Thinking of Izumi resurfaced memories of the kids down South, despite their continued refusal to respect him, so he let his fondness for them take precedence over relationship woes, “Have the terrible twos hit early?” It shocked a laugh out of Zuko, and he shook his head, but the begrudging tone stood no hope of masking a father’s pride, “She steams when she has a tantrum, Sokka- it literally comes out of her ears.”
He laughed and nudged Zuko, tone teasing, “Like father, like daughter, hmm?” Which earned him a smack to the chest from the back of the firebender’s hand, “Shut up- I haven’t done that in years.”
He snickered, “Yeah, yeah, I’m sure.” He reached up to tap his chin in mock thought, “Got pretty steamy on the airship when the Denied started tearing into it- could’ve been the engines, but, come to think of it, you were preeeetty heated shouting orders at the rest of us… ” he trailed off, grinning wide again. Zuko shoved him, laughing, and Sokka found himself caught up in it, laughing at the image of Zuko as he is now, Mr. Fire Lord stomping his foot like he imagines little Izumi does- steam flying from his ears. Spirits she’s probably walking, now- walking and steaming.
It damn near brought a tear to his eye, and he lay back on the balcony, shoulders shaking with mirth. He couldn’t even look at Zuko without falling into another round of laughter. Zuko shook his head, then joined him, shoulder brushing his own- the heat of him lighting up his left side as the moment eventually settled into companionable silence. Then Zuko, once again against type, went and filled it, voice low;
“Will Suki meet you here or is she staying in the South?”
Sokka jolted in surprise at the question, head turning to look at the firebender, “Suki hasn’t been in the South for…” He did a quick tally of the time, “years, now.” Zuko returned his gaze, good eye squinting in confusion as Sokka continued, matching his confusion, “Why would she follow me here?” Which had Zuko taking on that specific condescending tone he only uses around people who know he’s teasing, “‘Cause people who’ve been together over a decade tend to spend time together, Sokka.”
Oh, that- Sokka let out an awkward huff of laughter, “Spirits, has it really been that long since we talked?” He looked back up at the sky, not wanting himself to be… noticed, and cleared his throat. It’s not weird to be telling a close friend about a breakup nearly a year after it happened. A brief downer, but nothing for it. Just get it out in the night air, nice and simple, “Suki and I aren’t together anymore.” Perfect delivery, upon recollection. Didn’t even stutter. But Zuko was silent long enough that Sokka caved and rolled his head to look back in his direction, surprised to find him wearing a crooked smile, “That’s rough, buddy.” Which punched a laugh out of Sokka before a more sincere expression settled over the firebender’s face, “I am sorry, Sokka.”
He’d laughed again, waved a dismissive hand, “It’s… it is what it is.” He shrugs, “For the best. Probably. Still working on it.” Zuko’s expression grew more considering, brow furrowing, “Why didn’t you tell me?”
He sighed, letting the early hour and their hushed tones pull out the more honest of his reasons, “Pride. Pretty embarrassing telling your happily married best friend about a relationship failure.” He shrugged the shoulder pressed up against Zuko's, “Just wanted to lick my wounds in private. Went home for a bit, let myself be useful. And suddenly a year has passed.” That indecipherable mix of emotions had crossed Zuko’s face again before smoothing over, settling on concern, “What happened?”
He’d sniffed dismissively, looked back up at the stars, gaze tracing familiar constellations from an unfamiliar angle, “Nothing catastrophic, if that’s what you’re thinking. We still talk- often, actually.” He released a steady breath, gave another half-truth, “Just… time. Love between kids doesn’t always survive growing up, you know? And we grew up a lot faster than most.” He turned to look back at Zuko, found him unmoved, still watching his face- noticing, and he’d been compelled to give the other half of it, “She told me I was running and she wasn’t the one meant to stop me… not sure what I’m running from, but,” he’d shrugged again, “I’ll know when it catches up to me,” then lifted his hands to bring them together in a resounding clap, “Or I run right into it.” He’d finished lamely, but plastered a smile he hoped was reassuring over his face.
He was treated to another scan from Zuko’s perceptive gaze before the firebender looked away, up toward the stars, “The war had us clinging to each other in different ways- seeking comfort where it was safest. Easy.” His tone shifted, carrying a weight Sokka couldn’t identify, “Expected.” Zuko had taken a breath, let it out slowly, and Sokka swears he felt the heat next to him swell with it, then recede, “Getting to finally exhale, slowly let go of that desperation over the years… It challenges what was easy. Makes you consider the other choices you had. The harder ones.” He’d looked back to Sokka, then, amber eyes gone molten, “Something to run from.” He’d paused and turned away again, clearing his throat, “I imagine.”
Uncharacteristically struck silent by the other man’s words, he’d reached for Zuko’s hand- given it a squeeze in thanks or understanding. Comfort. All of the above, probably, but before he’d had a chance to verbally respond, make some comment about the firebender sounding more and more like his uncle every year, Toph’s voice called to them from the door, “Are you two still brooding up here? Ugh.” A twitch of her foot and they’d slid across the stone floor toward her. They looked up to the earthbender leaning over them, grinning wickedly and dangling a familiar bottle over their heads, “Good thing I brought this.” He and Zuko looked at each other, moment broken, shrugged, and reached for the fire whisky.
Things got a bit blurry after that.
Remarkably, he was lucid enough to see them all off in the morning, despite waking up alone on the hard floor of the home they'd been staying in. Aang had winced at the sight of him, then nodded in sage understanding at his groan of “Toph.” Katara, his most favourite sister in the world, had taken pity and held glowing, blessedly cold water to his temples long enough that the throbbing subsided to a dull ache. It resurfaced some blurry flashes of the night before; the three of them laying on the floor, heads together, giggling like they were kids again. Toph snoring, a flush of warmth across his body. But nothing else was revealed from the residual haze of drunkenness. Katara’s light smack to the back of his head for drinking so much that he blacked out didn’t help. Though he wished he could also smack past-Sokka for the same reasons.
When Mr. Fire Lord surfaced, he had the audacity to look completely unaffected. His fancy crown is back on his head and he doesn’t even wince at the hair pulled back from his temples in his customary topknot. Unfortunately, the sight of him fills no more of the blanks gouged into his brain by the fire whisky. Just the customary tension in his sternum that he always ignores.
Although, the looks Zuko kept darting in his direction gave him pause. He hopes he didn’t hit the level of drunk where he gets all morose and completely embarrasses himself. Can’t help the creeping suspicion that that was exactly what he’d done. He was too embarrassed to ask Katara to give him another dose of healing water to better jog his memory. Perhaps ignorance is bliss.
He saw the three of them off to their various modes of aerial transportation, hugging Aang and Katara tightly with promises to send Hawky their way more often. Zuko asked if he still planned to stay in the city in an uncharacteristically tentative tone, and he’d nodded- unaware he’d given the impression it was up for debate. Then the Fire Lord had the audacity to try and give a formal bow in farewell, which he’d soundly intercepted with a snort and pulled the taller man into a hug, muttering a soft, “Just ‘cause you have the crown on, doesn’t mean you have to go all Fire Lord on me now” into his good ear. It earned him a laugh, a swell of warmth he resists clinging to, then he’d stepped back, waving him off to his airship.
That left him and Toph, also showing no evidence of having drunk both him and Zuko under the table. She’d clapped him on the shoulder, sending his feet sinking into the earth with the force of it, and gave him an authoritative and knowing, “Stay safe, Sokka.” Caught. No half-truths getting by her. She didn’t release him from the earth until he nodded, without thinking, then gave a verbal response, “I will, Toph.” Then she’d hoisted her bag over her shoulder, gave him a bone-crushing one-armed hug and a parting, “Don’t have too much fun without me,” and marched wherever the vibrations of the ground sought to guide her. Then she’s gone, too.
He swallows the bone-deep longing that threatens to consume him whenever he says goodbye to his family and gets to work.
In the years since the end of the Hundred Year War, his methods for keeping his family safe had shifted. With no grand invasion plans on the horizon, he dedicated himself to keeping the peace ushered in by his friends where he could. He left the public-facing work to the others; Aang, the symbol of the four nations living together in harmony, with Katara, the most powerful waterbender the Water Nation has ever seen, at his side; Zuko- the Fire Lord who overthrew his own family and dedicated his rule to reparations and maintaining peace; and Toph, well, she’d dare anyone to challenge their efforts and come out on top every time, very publicly.
So, Sokka kept to a street-level approach. It was a task he and Suki took up together, initially, gauging how the people received the peace-keeping efforts. The Kyoshi warriors had done a lot of work building relationships with the citizens of every nation- helping refugees and defending small towns and travellers from rogue soldiers and bandits. They were trusted, and Sokka fell into their order for over half a decade- both in and out of uniform. They would track down old regime loyalists and war profiteers who had a hard time letting go of their business. They’d tip off the others when they were a bigger concern than the Warriors could handle, and took care of it themselves when it fell within their capabilities.
It helped with his restlessness, the need to keep looking for the next plan of attack- but as the years stretched on, the peace began to stick. Suki wanted to put down roots with her Warriors in the Earth Kingdom, and Sokka wasn't ready to settle. That was the beginning of the end for them, and he understood it. Once he’d grieved the relationship, he was… relieved at its passing. And that’s the part he’s still working on. He and Suki had been through so much; he should be devastated that it’s over. But he’s not… and neither is she. Zuko’s words rattle around in his head and have him wondering what the other choices he had were. The harder ones.
Which leads to thoughts of what Zuko’s other choices were, and that is an untraversable path of thought, so he shakes it loose and refocuses on the Denied.
It takes him a week to sniff out the Denied’s meeting spots, another two to talk the talk convincingly enough to be approached for recruitment: A begrudging “they have it so easy, huh?” when a waterbender dries herself off from the rain, a low, spiteful “we forgot so quickly,” when a firebender ignites the lanterns in the seedy bar he’s sat in. His stomach turns each time he does it, but he’ll do whatever it takes to protect what his friends have built.
Being a non-bender gets him through the door. He goes by “Lee”, drops the Water Tribe blues in favour of the nationless-neutrals worn in the city, keeps his hair down, wears wraps from wrist to elbow, covering his kakiniit, but leaves the wiry muscle of his arms otherwise exposed, and straps a well-used sword on his hip to market himself as a competent fighter. He does what Zuko cannot and shifts how he carries himself- adopting a suspicious hunch to his shoulders, a jumpiness around bending that those who know to look for it will understand. That is what gets him the invitation to the undercity.
Secret organizations designed to be a pain in his ass really do love a tunnel system, and the Denied are no different.
Ironing out the hierarchy within the Denied once he’s involved only takes a few days- then the hard work begins. He spends a month attending demonstrations and playing the middleman, delivering messages between factions undetected. He copies all of them in a code he and Suki worked on with the Warriors and sends everything to her. He wasn’t lying to Zuko when he’d said they keep in contact- you don’t survive a war with a bond like theirs and leave it behind. They know when to rely on each other. He can trust her to respond accordingly, not fast enough to tip the Denied off that there’s a mole in their ranks, but soon enough to mitigate harm.
He ignores that the letters in response open with a teasing “Still running, huh?” that he can clearly hear in Suki’s voice, and presses on.
But it’s all plan F and below material. Nothing world-shattering, just efforts to muddy trade deals, amplify dissent within non-bending communities. It all goes to Suki. And then he’s granted access to the bigger plans- "Avatar Sonam’s staff" type of plans.
The Denied’s Plan-B.
When a plan to grant bending failed, a plan to take it away commenced.
The Denied have their suspicions about what happened to Ozai- how Avatar Aang, all of twelve years old, managed to subdue him- and they’ve come close enough to the truth to know that removing a person’s ability to bend is a possibility. They have informants in Capital City, know that the previous Fire Lord has lost his connection to his inner flame, and plan B started forming. From what he’s gathered, they just don’t know the how of it, yet- and as far as Sokka is aware, only the Avatar can remove bending entirely.
Then he was invited to spar with the other Denied, learn a few of their tricks, and was treated to a fighting style he hadn’t encountered since the War. A quick jab to his collarbone, a pinch to his elbow, and he lost the ability to use his right arm, and it stuck. Ty Lee’s strikes always wore off in a few minutes, but this took hours. Which did give him pause, admittedly, assuming it would affect bending similarly. But impermanent bending removal was not Plan B material.
Then the other copper dropped.
They didn’t need it to be permanent; they just needed it to last long enough to execute the who of Plan B:
Fire Lord Zuko.
Now, an assassination attempt on the Fire Lord is old hat. He himself had been part of no less than two attempts on a Fire Lord’s life. They’re a copper piece a dozen. Zuko himself admitted to half as many attempts in the first month of his tenure. Which means there were at least twice that, and he didn’t want to worry his friends about it. But, again, they got too close to Sonam’s staff on their own merit. They wouldn’t go up against the Fire Lord without a solid plan and many, many contingencies. Contingencies that must live with the faction of the Denied operating out of the Fire Nation’s capital.
And, come to think of it- the last time he’d spoken to his father, he’d unsubtly voiced his hope for retirement, the need for an experienced member of the Southern Water Tribe to take his place as Ambassador in the Fire Lord’s council. The thought of being stationed somewhere had initially set his skin crawling- that said station would involve prolonged proximity to Zuko, and risk unearthing the root cause of the pull he feels toward him was completely unrelated, surely. So, he’d ignored the implication his father was quite explicitly making, but circumstances have changed. He’ll take the in if it gets him close to Zuko for the sole purpose of thwarting the Denied’s plans. Nothing else.
He’s writing several letters before the plan is fully formed in his head- one addressed to Hakoda, tentatively voicing his interest in shadowing his role on the council to see if it’s something he’d be capable of. Another goes to Suki, detailing everything he’s uncovered and suggesting she send some of the more clandestine members of the Warriors to Republic City to continue his work. And a third goes to the Fire Lord himself, telling him he needs another change of scenery- and what’s a poor Southern Water Tribe boy to do, but impose upon his very best friend and all the luxuries his station provides. There’s a giddiness in his chest as he writes it, despite the true reason for his journey, and he tells himself it’s just the excitement to see one of his friends again so soon. He sends them all with Hawky- it’s pushing the weight limit of the dragon hawk, but he’s significantly improved his ability to send letters by bird and knows he can handle it.
The last piece is a request of Wonah, the leader of the Denied here in the city. Up and leaving with no notice would draw too much suspicion after months of integrating into their ranks. So, he wraps the lie in a truth. He informs her that he’s following employment leads to Capital City, asks if any messages need to be delivered- or if their cohorts in the city could use another recruit. He’d proven himself capable enough in that regard that the suggestion isn’t unusual. It gets him the name of a contact in the Fire Nation, Yao, and a convenient letter recommending “Lee” for any vacancies in their order.
Then he charts his journey to the Fire Nation. He opts to go by water, giving his letters a head start and enough time to give at least a day’s notice before he storms the Fire Nation’s capital.
He’s waiting on the harbour in Yue Bay, still wearing Lee’s disguise in case any members of the Denied sought to see him off- though his Water Tribe blues are packed away in his bags. He plans to straddle the two identities in the Capital in order to decipher the Denied’s plans from two sides. He’s pondering exactly how he’ll manage to do so when his eye catches a series of animal hides being stretched and dried at a stall on the docks.
He approaches the stall and runs a hand along the hide of a small arctic seal before he’s consciously decided to do so. The vendor is an older man with tanned skin showing the wear of many years working at sea. Northern tribe, he thinks. His arms are covered in solid lines of ink, marking the notable journeys he’s taken through his life. Sokka greets him with a warm smile, nods at the hide, and says, “I’ll take this.” It looks like enough to make a pair of boots and gloves for a toddler. A royal toddler, so he adds, “And some glass beads, if you have any.” He has two missed birthdays to make up for and needs something to keep his hands busy on the journey.
Gran Gran didn’t set out to teach him this, and as a kid he’d turned his nose up at any job he considered girly- but he’d paid attention to the lessons under the guise of “keeping watch.” And his own boots and gloves needed repairs often enough that it was just practical to properly learn how. Admittedly, he’d only done so after Katara outright refused to do it for him, but still. And child-sized versions are even easier. He tucks himself into a comfortable spot on the ship when it arrives and gets to work, settling into the relief that washes over him whenever he sets off on another journey.
Focusing on the beadwork, weaving the warm, fiery tones of glass that he’d picked out on the docks into the shape of an open flame, has that flutter of excitement back in his chest. He ignores it and doesn’t interrogate its source or the accompanying thoughts of other choices and untraversable paths.
He has plans to focus on, after all.