markofthewise | Sokka the 81st

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[action],
[voice]

Sokka the 81st

Sokka woke up in the tunnels with a sudden jolt. He was cold, extremely cold, and no matter how much he pulled on his arms, he couldn't seem to get warm. His memory was a blur, but it slowly began to occur to him how he'd just returned from a mission. Then there was the droids... He shuddered as he thought about that. Had he been kidnapped? Maybe it was why he was so cold.

He pulled himself to his feet and instantly regretted it. At first he stumbled into the wall and scraped his elbow along the side. It bled, but he paid no mind to how it hurt. At least until he realized he needed the wall to steady himself, at which point he turned along side his back and waited. When he went to cover the cut with his hand, he decided that made it altogether worse. So he continued to ignore it. Instead he strained his ears for the sound of anything. The tunnels had their usual hollow echo, though it was more thunderous and he realized that meant there was rain falling in from the entrance. Upon finding his strength, Sokka made his way towards the entrance of the tunnel, using his hand to trace the edges of the wall in case he slipped and needed to brace himself. When he reached the entrance, his guess proved to be right. There was a torrent of rain coming through the entrance of the tunnel and much more rain cascading along the edges.

If he'd had any sense, he would have waited in the tunnels. But he made his way up the ladder, keeping his grip tighter than normal due to the slick conditions. It proved to be a wise decision when his foot slipped at one point and he was left dangling by his hands. By the time he made it to the top, he felt more like himself than normal, but he was drenched to the bone and feeling miserable for it. He felt very sorry for himself and realized he was bound to get himself sick like this. He found himself worried about what Katara would think. The last thing he wanted was to see her upset. But even as he plodded on home in the rain, he found himself stuck on that line of thought. It was a bewildering realization that he was more concerned about how his troubles would impact his sister than it would him. The line of thought seemed almost foreign to him. As he stood outside the house, staring at a stony slab with his own face imprinted in it, he began to understand he was worse off than he thought. More than that, he was hesitant to face anyone.

He delayed his trip by taking the long way home, making his way behind the barracks and into a secret entrance to the house. The tunnel leading to the basement was wet and ankle deep as he trekked his way home. Earthbenders may make great tunnels, but Toph hadn't put much thought into water run off when she carved it out of the ground. By the time he made it to the basement, he was back to shivering again. While a warm July rain may not freeze a man, a cold basement did little good for a man in soggy clothes. He took the opportunity to change into some spare clothes, all the while waiting for sounds of activity upstairs. He wasn't alone, so he waited in the basement as he tried to sort out his thoughts. He nearly went to go wait on the spare bed, but found he could not even do that. He remembered the last time he had been in that bed.

Asami. His stomach lurched as he realized the seriousness of what he had done. But that was nothing compared to what had gone on with Katniss. It had been over three months since he and Katniss had begun their relationship. Of course, with a newer clarity, Sokka couldn't quite describe it as that. His memories with her felt hollow and visceral. They lacked meaning or any sense of fondness. He was able to look back at them with the same sort of distance he did with the false memories he had gained from experiments. But he knew these weren't false memories. They weren't echoes of another life. It was all things he did. Things he said. Lies that he told for his own benefit. His fists tightened as he realized the seriousness of what he had done. They were so tight that his fingernails, only slightly overgrown, pierced his palm and made him bleed. He hissed at the pain and used a roll of paper towels to clean them.

But the blood served to be reminders of things far more awful. He remembered the draft. The stinking, burnt bodies of the cultists. The carelessness as his sword split flesh and bone. The utter lack of empathy he felt for any of them. Worse yet, he recalled a great-winged man pleading for mercy. A man who claimed he was no cultist. Sokka had killed him anyway. It was with a great heaviness that Sokka understood so well why he so adamantly told Katara and Aang why he wouldn't want his heart back. It may have been broken before, but now it was so much worse. It ached with shame and guilt. It gnawed at him so hard that his thoughts turned dark and tempted him with the idea of how easy it would be to go back to not feeling again. But he only thought of his death. The horror and cold of being in space. It had only been a moment, but in his memory it felt like an eternity. As his thoughts tempted him further, he lost his temper and threw aside one of the shelves. He snatched a coat and marched back into the tunnel to lose himself in the woods. The loudness of his fit would probably attract his housemates just above him. He wasn't ready to face them.

He couldn't hide forever and he didn't want to. But the thought of apologizing to each and every person he had wronged was a weight on him. Some deserved it more than others. In his mind it was obvious the two he had hurt the most. Suki and Katniss. He had broken Suki's heart and said unbearably cruel things to her. He could never take back those words and he doubted he could ever have her back at all. But he had to try. And to do that, he would have to break Katniss's heart first. They had entered their relationship on a pretense of not feeling anything for one another. But Sokka was no fool. After the three months they had been together, he knew this was going to hurt her. Much as he wanted to spare her, he couldn't simply continue where they had left off like it was fine. She was a friend, but he didn't love her. He couldn't be with someone he didn't love.

There would be others to apologize to as well. He had wronged Edward Elric by turning his teachings to horrors. He'd said cruel things to Winry, Sheena, Korra, and plenty of others. Richard Sharpe deserved a chance to deliver a blow to Sokka's face for the humiliation he'd given him at the birthday party. He mulled it all over, thinking of each encounter he had. At one point, he stopped at a tree in the woods where he emptied the contents of his stomach along its trunk. He felt weaker for it, but he was far from hungry. He wanted to settle one thing first before he found his sister.

---

His first stop was at Katniss's house, where the wet and bedraggled Sokka rapped his fists at the door and hoped she would be the one to answer. Before anything else, he had to resolve their relationship.

His second stop was looking for his sister, Katara. He searched for her at the clinic first, since it was about the time she ought to be working there. By the time he found her, he felt close to falling over. But he needed to be certain he talked to her, regardless of how he felt.

By the time he made his way back home, the rain had let up for a few hours. He didn't feel better, but he'd at least put some food in himself courtesy of the vending machines at the Battle Dome. The first person he went looking for was Asami. She deserved an apology in person.

He ended up staying in his room after that, even though it would have been better to look for the others. The journal would have to do instead.

---

[Voice]

I haven't been myself for awhile now. I really messed things up. I... [There's a long pause as he finds himself at a loss for words.] I should have done better. I will, from now on. I owe apologies to a lot of you. If you'll let me, then tomorrow I'll come find you in person.

[There should be more. But he doesn't know what else to say. It's enough that his voice is weak and miserable without saying much more than that. So he leans back against the wall and keeps his journal open in front of him. Waiting for whatever they have to say in turn.]

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...Four months ago, he died. It wasn't, he knew, impossible. It happened here. Sharpe himself could remember the day Katniss had confessed her death -- and the day she got her voice back. Her singing voice. It had been a day of muted, melodic celebration. And Sharpe had smiled. But here was Sokka, standing in front of him like a penitent, and trying to tell him he'd been through the same thing.

The soldier pulled a face. He wanted to believe, because Sokka's explanation would be kinder all around. But his own history of knowing liars and thieves and cheaters made him cling to his wariness. But he wasn't so naive as to ask for clarification. After all: "...It ain't as though you can prove it."

"I know." It haunted him to know that he had planned to do this very thing. He had considered, for the sake of keeping his sister pacified, to fake having seen John. It would be easy to do. But he doubted he could ever fake the way he was right now. He hadn't felt a day this awful since the day he lost Yue.

"I can't. But I need to see her anyway. Please."

Pale green eyes bore holes into the young man -- unabashedly judging him. Sharpe felt no shame in his behaviour. Felt no obligation to be gentle or sympathetic, even if the claim could be true. For, if it was true, a dozen others would no doubt be kind to Sokka. Pat his back and tell him things would be okay. Such a thing was not Sharpe's job, and he would not stoop to do it.

Instead: "Tell me, first. As it stands, lad, what will she be to you? After this? What are you hoping for?"

"To me, she'll be someone who deserves better." Perhaps, still a friend. So he hoped. He rubbed the edge of his arm even as he looked down. "To her, I'll be nothing."

Hmph. Sincere enough, he supposed. And if things got heated, Sharpe knew he was only a few rooms away and could intervene. Personally, he hoped Katniss would thrash the man for the whole mess -- but he knew it likely wouldn't happen. All the same, he could hear the tentative rejection in Sokka's voice and understood, intuitively, that he would have to be here for the girl when this was over.

Sharpe stepped back -- making a narrow corridor through which Sokka could advance. "Go, then. Tell her. But know that you and I ain't done talking yet, Sokka."

"I know." He stepped past Sharpe, his mind wondering if he should expect some sudden reprisal. Honestly, he would have welcomed it. But even as he made his way towards Katniss's room, he nearly spoke up again.

The silver buttons. He needed to make up for those as much as the punch itself. But he wisely decided not to mention them. Katniss would likely not want them anymore. Perhaps, he thought, she would leave them for Sharpe to collect.

It hadn't really been her room since Prim arrived in Luceti. She didn't mind. Not much. To know her sister slept in the room put her at ease. The couch wasn't comfortable. But until that addition to the house was finished, it did provide a buffer between anyone daring to get to her sister. She could live with that.

So she wasn't exactly in the bedroom when Sokka approached, having spent less and less time in there since Prim. In a way it was easier. Less of a reminder of Peeta, of what she lost with his departure.

Besides, she had today's catch to butcher. He'd have better luck following the soft singing as she worked on carving the rabbit for tonight's meal.

The singing made it worse. It reminded him of the first time he heard it. He'd had no soul at the time. He'd waited to hear it, so hopeful that it might impact him and he'd feel something. He'd been so disappointed that her song had just been noise. Empty noise that offered him no happiness or comfort. Now, as he heard her music, it did make him feel something.

Dread. A dread that he was going to rob her of her song with what he was about to do. It made him consider, once again, that they could keep going. He could learn to lover her. Maybe she'd be willing to start over. They could make something real of it.

But he knew, in his heart, he couldn't do that.

He stood in the door.

"Katniss."

She paused her chopping when she heard Sokka's greeting. Resting the knife on the cutting board, she looked up to see him standing in the doorway. Her face lit up with a fast smile. She hadn't expected him back from the last mission this soon. Nor did she expect to feel this happy to see him again. Especially here. In her house rather than in the smithy or at their normal meeting places in the woods.

That wasn't a bad thing, was it? To be happy to see a friend? No, she corrected herself. A boyfriend. Because whether or not they had initially agreed to know feelings, that really did seem to be the most fitting word. She didn't love him, not like she did Peeta. But whatever she felt towards him was certainly a step up from what she felt towards Zevran or Teddy or the other boys she knew.

Reaching for a nearby towel, she quickly wiped her hands clean and rushed over to him for a hug and kiss. "You're back!"

He should have stopped her. He didn't, though. But he did remain stiff, wincing ever so slightly as her hand brushed his scraped shoulder. But he couldn't kiss her back. He put his hands, still bloody, on her shoulders to push her away.

"Katniss. Stop. We can't-- I can't do that."

He didn't respond to her kiss. Didn't even seem to move to hug her back. Not like he normally did. Not like she expected. Some strange, uncomfortable feeling filled her chest. Like the stab of one of Clove's knives. Unexpected and completely unwanted. Was this it? Was this the moment she had been dreading since they had started this?

She tried hard not to jump to conclusions. Tried hard not to think it was. Live in the present. For Prim's sake. But it was a matter of time, wasn't it? She had become too content, too happy with her life here. And she didn't deserve that. No matter what Zevran might say.

Quickly, she took a step away. Her brows knitted together and her eyes narrowed. She shook her head before finally forming the words. "Why not?"

Spirits, how was he going to do this? Already he could see the hurt forming inside of her. It wrenched at his insides and filled him with doubt. It made him want to just grab her, kiss her, and continue to pretend like he truly felt something for her.

He pulled his hands away from her shoulders and swallowed.

"I saw John, Katniss. The penalty... it's gone."

Sokka had told her what it was. He expected she'd realize what that would mean.

She blinked when he said that. His penalty was gone. That meant... what had he said? Negative emotions, right? He had lost his ability to feel anything negative. It made her wonder if it had been his choice to lose this penalty. Because why - why anyone would want to feel heartbreak or anger or guilt was beyond her. Because she'd be more than happy to never feel like that again.

Perhaps it'd be almost as good as forgetting everything. Forgetting her sister's death. The death of her father. Listening to Cato beg for death through out the night as the mutts tore into him. Annie's grief over losing Finnick. Her own over losing Peeta.

But he hadn't told her the truth about his penalty, the true extent to which he had lost emotion. So she still looked confused. Still didn't entirely understand why it mattered. He had been happy being with her, hadn't he?

"I'm sorry."

He knew he hadn't been honest with her before. Which was what was going to make it hard now. He wrapped his arms around himself as he took a deep breath.

"... it wasn't just the bad that I lost, Katniss. It was everything. I didn't feel the bad things, but... I didn't feel the good either."

"I-"

She fell silent, trying to understand what he was implying. He hadn't felt anything? He hadn't felt... happy when they were together? Pleased? Didn't enjoy what they did, everything from hunting to... to sex? He didn't have to love her. No, she never expected that. Because she often considered it a fluke that Peeta and Gale even once cared for her in that way. But... but that he was maybe developing some sort of feelings for her? Liked her more than he did a friend? She had sort of hoped.

He had become her boyfriend. Despite their initial agreement, he had become that. Shouldn't that have meant something?

"I don't understand."

He tried to look her in the eyes, even though it was proving hard. Though he could guess she understood more than she said, he could tell she didn't want to accept it. He could hardly blame her.

"It was a lie. Everything I said, everything I did... It wasn't real. I was being selfish. All I was doing was using you. I don't want to do that to you anymore. I can't do that."

Her fingers went to the necklace around her neck. She brushed the silver buttons lightly and her frown deepened. She had thought that she had been the selfish one in their relationship. Refusing to fall in love with him - with anyone really - but being more than willing to receive that sort of attention. But at least, whether she liked it or not, she had felt something. Had made it clear to him at the start what she wanted. And hadn't been frightened away when it looked like it could become something more.

All these steps she had taken. Steps to get over Peeta, steps to convince herself that she could be happy again. That, dammit, she deserved to be happy. Maybe she didn't. Maybe Zevran and Richard were wrong. She had killed people. Been responsible for far more deaths. Why should she ever be happy?

"The necklace?"

"Silver buttons. Richard Sharpe traded them for a sword. I gave them to you... because it was the only use I could find for them."

It was a hard truth to admit, but it was the truth all the same. While not nearly so sinister as Richard may have made it out to be, the gift had certainly been solely to endear her to him. It had worked and he had gladly reaped the benefits of it. Like the entire relationship, it was nothing he could find any pride in. Only shame.

That they buttons belonged to Richard were the only reason she didn't tear the necklace off and throw it at him. She didn't want to take the chance to tarnish the metal before she had a chance to return them to him. Because whether or not they were a part of the trade, they were hers now. Hers to do what she wished with. And she'd make certain to return it to the man who was the closest thing she had to a father in eight years.

But it still hurt to hear his response. Hurt and frightened her. Because it made her think of those women from the Seam, those women she so despised. The ones that would sell themselves to Cray in return for cash. If she had been any older when her father died, would she have been one of them? One of those willing to prostitute themselves in order to feed her family?

Probably. She'd do anything to protect Prim. To keep her safe.

Her cheeks flamed in shame at the thought. Grey eyes narrowed, self-loathing and anger mixing together. She needed to know. "That's it? That's the only reason you gave them to me? You weren't... you weren't buying me, my affections...

Were you?"

He wanted to say no. He wanted to somehow justify it and make it seem better. Sokka knew that it wasn't just that. Even when he had no soul, his motives hadn't been so hollow. But that meant defending his actions and there were no defense for it. And maybe, he thought, it would be easier for her to just hate him. If she can hate him, maybe she won't hate herself so much. In any case, he wouldn't justify himself.

He closed his eyes and answered with a single word.

"Yes."

He had been on a death penalty. He hadn't had any emotions, any sense of right or wrong it seemed. Those actions weren't of the Sokka she knew, the Sokka he had pretended to still be around her. But those excuses sounded hollow. For once, she couldn't rationalize it. This hadn't been the effects of a shift, the manipulations of the Malnosso. Death penalty or not, it had been him. He had had some control of his actions.

She swallowed hard and took a deep breath. How had she been so stupid? How could she have wanted... wanted what? To be liked, to be desired so damn much that she didn't see it? How dumb was she? How blind? It had been months now since she hated herself as much as she did in that moment. Felt that she should have died that day she killed Coin. Hated that she had been given another chance to live.

She wasn't saying anything. He had no idea what was going on inside her head, but he couldn't be sure how she was taking this. Don't be stupid, Sokka, she's taking it awfully. What did you expect?

"I'm sorry," he said. He meant it with all of his heart. He had no follow up to try and excuse it, because he deserved all the blame. There could be no trying to get out of it. "I never wanted to hurt you."

Even if he meant those words, they sounded hollow to her. The death penalty had been removed. But did he really mean them? Or was he trying to get in her good grace again?

She didn't know. She didn't know if she could trust him, if she could ever trust him again. Because she had found herself liking Sokka, really liking him. And finding herself thinking that it might be okay to move on from Peeta. How fucking wrong she had been.

"It's okay," she finally said, voice quiet. Eyes not meeting his. "It's nothing less than I deserve."

Nothing less than I deserve.

He stared at her, bewildered how she could come to this conclusion. It was wrong, absolutely wrong, and it incensed him that she would somehow thing that she brought this on herself.

"Hit me."

It was so, so tempting to do so. To hit him, to take out all her anger and frustrations on him. But Sokka wasn't getting it. Like Artemis, like everyone else, he didn't seem to understand.

She did deserve this.

"No," she answered through clenched teeth. Her hands curled up into fists by her side but she kept her ground. "No. I- I did this to Peeta. During the first Hunger Games. He loved me and I used that so we'd win Sponsors, so we'd survive. And that's worse than what you did to me. I- I killed a woman during the war. Just because she was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Richard and Zevran were wrong. I was stupid to think I should be happy."

Sokka the 81st

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