Work Text:
"Pema…Pema!"
The young woman blushed at the senior acolyte's call. She unpaused, pining sheet to the clothesline. Taking the next sheet from the basket, she moved down the line, her expression dreamy.
Nyima sighed, tutting under her breath.
She didn't need to look to know Master Tenzin was playing with his children in the direction Pema had been staring.
It happened every time a new group of acolytes came to the island. Invariably, one or more of the women would develop an infatuation with him.
Not that Nyima could entirely fault them for it. If she hadn't been over ten years his senior and didn't remember him as a toddler…
Nyima resolved to find tasks which would keep Pema away from Master Tenzin until this foolishness passed.
I'm not doing anything wrong, Pema told herself.
She said it when she attended each and every meditation session Master Tenzin led despite foregoing one out of three led by anyone else.
She said it when she learned his rota through the tables during lunch in the communal dining hall. With the twins at his side, he sat at a different table every day so as to eat with different groups of acolytes each time. Pema allowed herself to match up with him once or twice a week, anything more would have been too noticeable.
She said it when she volunteered to take a tray of tea and a mid-afternoon snack to his office on the days he spent handling the Temple's official business and correspondence.
She said it when she kept asking questions - about his father, about Avatar Aang's memories of the Air Temples and Air Nomads - in order to prolong a chance meeting in the Temple's reflection garden.
She said it when she frowned while watching Beifong leave in the mornings. She said it when she saw offered to watch Rohan and Sora for Tenzin while he put the twins down for their nap, Beifong at work in Republic City. She said it when she joined the dawn meditation with Tenzin while his wife ran laps around the island.
I'm not doing anything wrong.
It came to a head four months after Pema's arrival.
"Thank you, I appreciate this," Tenzin said as Pema placed the tray on his desk. He capped his pen and reached for the cup of tea.
"You're welcome," she replied with a faint blush. Gesturing at his papers, she asked, "What are you working on?"
"Reports on the upkeep and maintenance of the Temples along with proposals for expansion and renovations." When she lingered, he added, "Thank you again for the tea."
He reached for a scroll. Pema interrupted him before he could unroll it.
"Maybe a break would help? Some fresh air?" she suggested with a bright smile. "It's a beautiful afternoon. Maybe you should take a walk? In the gardens, with me?"
The cup chinked as Tenzin returned it to the saucer. He examined the wood grain of his desk for a long moment. Pema's heart pounded, her hands trembled at her sides.
"I'm afraid that is not possible. I'm sorry," he finally answered in a firm tone without looking up at her. Pema blinked rapidly and then refocused on him, her eyes wide and entreating.
"It's just a walk, just round the gardens," she pleaded softly, half-desperate and half-defiant. "With a…a friend."
"Pema." Tenzin raised his head to meet her gaze. He folded his hands together on the desktop. "I'm not…unaware of your…" He cleared his throat. "I was hoping it would fade, naturally, of its own accord, over time. I had hoped I wouldn't need to…to say anything."
"But you…but we…I thought you liked me…I thought…we've gotten along so well…I've enjoyed your company so much…" Pema stammered. She twisted her hands together. Her breathing hitched. "I know you…but…I thought…maybe…"
"Pema, I've tried to treat you with the same courtesy and cordiality I would show to any acolyte. I admit I've enjoyed our conversations, but beyond that…" Tenzin sighed heavily. "If my behavior has raised any…expectations on your part, I am most sincerely sorry. Please understand I had no intentions of doing so."
Pema covered her face with her hands while she choked back a sob. Tenzin didn't budge from his seat, but dropped his gaze to give her that minute measure of privacy.
"But I think…I think I'm in love with you…and I thought you felt…you felt something too…between us," she blurted, voice cracking. Tenzin's head jerked up. There were tears on her cheeks, but a fierce, determined set to her eyes and mouth.
"I'm sorry, but I don't." Pema squashed a cry with a squeak. Tenzin continued, asserting, "I love my wife."
"She's never here!" exclaimed Pema. "She's always in the city. She leaves you to take care of the children because she's too busy with her job. She's not even an acolyte - she doesn't live by our ways and beliefs - how can she be a good wife - if you give me the chance -"
"Enough," commanded Tenzin. He stood. Pema silenced herself.
"My relationship with my wife is a matter for Lin and myself, and our children. I have no complaints about our marriage or my wife's choices. I am deeply in love with my wife, and completely content in my marriage," he declared. Gentling his tone, he suggested, "In light of this…situation, you might be more comfortable at another Temple."
"You're asking me to leave?" gasped Pema.
Tenzin shook his head. "No. You may stay or leave as you wish. I do trust that, if you decide to remain, you do understand that I have no feelings for you beyond those I have for any acolyte."
This proved to be the breaking point. Sobbing, Pema ran from the room.
"Oh my poor child," murmured Nyima when she found Pema amongst the grain sacks in one of the storerooms. She knelt beside the weeping young woman and rubbed circles on her back.
"Nyima?" Pema's voice wavered.
"I'm here, dearie. You told him…or he guessed, didn't he?" asked Nyima, fishing a handkerchief out to give to Pema.
After blowing her nose, Pema nodded. She whispered, "He guessed. He said he didn't feel anything. He said he's in love with his wife."
"Hmmm…yes, I imagine he did."
"Aren't you going to say 'I told you so'?" Pema demanded, wiping at her eyes.
"No, of course not," Nyima said.
"I just…I don't get it," muttered Pema. As she went on, she progressed to a wail. "I don't understand - they're so different - she's a police officer for spirits' sake, that's almost the opposite of an acolyte - she's so cold, so hard - what kind of mother and wife lets her husband care for the kids and their home because she cares more about her job than them -I'd never - I'd be a better match - I don't understand!"
"Dearie, you've only seen the bits they show to us. And I think, maybe, even then, you've only been seeing what you want to see, believing what you want to believe." Nyima ignored Pema's glare; the stuffy nose, red eyes, and tear streaks eliminated any pinch of intimidating quality it might have possessed.
"I've lived a large portion of my life on this island and the stories I could tell you…they've loved each other their entire lives. They were best friends as children, inseparable, and when they grew up…it was never a question of 'if', just of 'when'."
"You're saying I never had a chance," said Pema.
"No, my girl, you didn't," answered Nyima as kindly as she could. It still provoked fresh tears. Nyima resumed rubbing Pema's back as Pema wept into the handkerchief. "You go on and cry. Get it out. It'll help."
Pema managed, "You've done this before, haven't you?"
"You're not the first, nor likely to be the last," replied Nyima. "You all grow up on stories of the Airbenders, especially of Avatar Aang and Master Tenzin, and you come here, and he's handsome and kind and gentlemanly and well-spoken and…before you know it…you're getting all starry-eyed over him."
Nyima rose enough to sit on a grain sack; the floor was unfriendly to old bones. She told Pema, who continued to cry, "Cry for as long as you want, dearie. I'll be right here."
"You were right."
"What about?" asked Lin. After tucking the children into bed; they had decided to make the most of the clear skies and stargaze from the comfort of the porch swing. Lin had draped part of Tenzin's cloak around her to ward off the autumn chill. "I'm right about most things."
Tenzin huffed. He hesitated a second before saying, "About Pema."
Lin twisted her neck to look up at him from her head's resting place on his shoulder. Seeing that he appeared anxious and his body had stiffen, she said, "Hey, you know I'm not mad right?"
Tenzin gave her a thin-lipped smile. "I know…but I can't help it…she said some things about us…about you…and I…I don't like people questioning my commitment to you…I don't like people doubting the strength of our marriage or how I love you…I don't like telling you about these - instances. I don't like to imagine that…maybe…one day…one of them would do something or it'll be one too many…and you'd start to doubt me."
A crick in Lin's neck caused her to reposition her head, laying it again on his shoulder. She searched for his hands and took them in hers, weaving their fingers together.
"Tenzin…I don't have doubts. None at all. You've never hidden these cases from me; you've always told me when it happens. Really, I don't think you'd be capable of - of involving yourself with one of those women. Let alone behind my back. You're too honest; spirits knows you couldn't lie to save your life." She lifted their hands to press kisses to his knuckles. When she lowered their hands, she suddenly grinned.
"What is it?" asked Tenzin.
"I was just thinking…well…I can't fault their tastes," she remarked. She felt the rumble in his chest as he laughed, tension melting away.
Tenzin rested his cheek against her crown. He vowed,"I love you."
"Love you too. Now, hush, I want to find the Twin Dragons."
Tenzin hushed, perfectly happy to be Lin's pillow and personal heater as she picked out constellations.