I Will Possess Your Heart
By Nikkel
(c) Nickelodeon, Michael Dante DiMartino, and Bryan Konietzko

"Did you not hear me?!" Azula trilled. "I said get in!"

Jet was dumbfounded, but her shrill went right through his shock. He scrambled into the convertible and did not have the slightest second to speak before Azula hammered the gas and rocketed out of the parking lot. Jet was thrown back in his seat as he fumbled for the seat belt, the car lurching dangerously as Azula tore around the corner. He struggled with the buckle, trying to hold on for his dear life and watch the road at the same time, knowing that at this rate in a crash, his head would be beneath the tires. He pinched himself when the buckle finally clicked, and was thrown back in his seat once again.

"Aren't you going a little fast?!" he cried, eyes wide, arms splayed at his sides. He glanced at the speedometer. "Spirits! Slow down! If the cops catch us, they'll—"

"And what makes you think I give a damn about the cops?" Azula sharply countered, veering into a different lane. The Corvette fishtailed; Jet yelled. Azula was hardly fazed. "There's nothing my father can't get me out of."

"Yeah, you! But what about me?! I'll be accused too!"

Azula rolled her eyes, which resulted in the car violently swerving next to the concrete barrier. Jet had the wild urge to steal the wheel, but knew that getting in her way was not worth both their lives. A big green sign flashed overhead—they were headed out to the highway.

"Where are we going?!" he yelled, not intending to make her angry, but apparently he did: she changed lanes to narrowly fit between two cars, streamlining into traffic. Azula reached over and blasted the radio as loud as the speakers would permit. Jet cringed and clapped his hands over his ears, though it was hardcore metal music he would have usually enjoyed, but the vocals screamed higher than the Corvette's tires on asphalt.

Azula jerked the wheel this way and that, veering around cars at more than one hundred miles an hour, breaking suddenly every now and then so the cars behind screeched and wailed, nearly causing a massive pile-up. In addition to the overbearing music, Azula blared the horn, frightening people out of the way, clearing a lane all for her own.

After about an hour of reckless driving, Jet found that he could ease up. They were out of the city and out of the suburbs, the highway thinning, but the concrete barrier still present. The metal music was still as loud as ever—he more or less had built up an immunity to it—but it no longer bothered him. He still held tightly on to the car door, though, for just when he thought Azula was taking a break, she would accelerate.

Jet lost track of time. He looked out to the west, past Azula, and saw that the sun was beginning to set. They were far from civilization. The houses and grass and trees had faded long ago into the barren desert, featuring a lone cactus or ratty tumbleweed. The road had definitely thinned to only two lanes, separated by a double yellow line, yet this far out, they were the only ones out. Russet clouds of dust rose up as Azula drove, and the metal music fizzled out to static, so that the next thing Jet knew, he was staring at Azula in silence.

He quickly looked away and cursed his instincts for thinking her beautiful.

Finally, she eased off the gas and came to a stop. She turned off the car and white noise radio. Azula clenched the steering wheel, as if considering to go further, but got out of the car instead. She began to pace back and forth in front of the car, right in the middle of the road. Jet quietly got out, just watching. He wasn't exactly sure what to say.

Azula then stopped short, the hot wind blowing back the twin wisps of hair that fell at her temples, lips pursed. She swiftly turned on her heel and sat down in the convertible. Jet followed, his hand on the car door, but she caught him with a spiteful glare.

"You can forget it."

"You're not going to leave me out here!"

"Just watch me."

Azula switched on the ignition and pulled hard on the stickshift, her foot downing the pedal. Jet leapt off the ground at the last second and lunged into the car, arm outstretched for the keys. He managed to tickle the keychain when Azula brought her knee up and smashed his head against the steering wheel, the car swerving yet again from the lack of control. The extra momentum gave him a shove and Jet ripped the keys out of the ignition, and before they could crash into a cactus patch Azula grabbed the emergency brake, yanking it up and smacking him right in the chin, knocking him away. The car skidded to a halt in a great cloud of dust, Azula coughing, and Jet monkeying his way out.

"Get back here!" Azula roared, struggling to get out of the car and chase him. Jet sprinted out several yards, trying to get as far as he could, and then arched his arm back, chucking the keys far out into the desert, losing them on purpose. The moment he released the keys, Azula had caught up to him and grabbed him by the collar. "What the hell did you do that for?!"

"Let go of me! You nearly fucking killed us!"

"And now we're both going to die because you threw the keys into the desert!" She let him go, throwing her arms up in the air. "Brilliant, Jet, just brilliant! You think that you can solve everything by throwing it away! You're a genius, did I tell you that? A brilliant, no-good, rose-sending genius!"

"It's your fault that we're in the desert! If you hadn't gotten all pissed off—"

Azula sighed irritably, turning her back and ignoring him. "Just find the damn keys."

She started walking to the car and Jet let out a howl of frustration. He punched the air and kicked the ground. Azula hardly acknowledge him. "How am I supposed to find them?!" he shouted behind her. "They could be anywhere now! Come help me!"

She still ignored him. He let out another frustrated howl and whipped into the opposite direction, searching for the keys.

The sun was going down. The lavender mountains lie ahead of him as he searched, kicking up the dust and dirt, his shadow long and black. He glanced over his shoulder every now and then, only to see Azula leaning against the convertible, her arms crossed, her posture erect. He knew that she was watching and quickly went back to his search. There was absolutely nothing but a couple of old rabbit bones and dried-up weeds.

Jet groaned, covered from head-to-toe in desert dust, unable to find the keys. It was impossible to find them. He tilted his head to the sky, violet and beginning to emerge with sparkling stars. Maybe if Azula wasn't mad at him, and he at her, and if they had driven out to the desert simply to be together, they could look at the sky. If they could just get over themselves, perhaps things could be. . . nice.

But he knew that wasn't going to happen. Especially not now.

Heading back to Azula was certain doom, but the Spirits were against him. Shoving his hands deep in his pockets, Jet shuffled back to the car, head hung and exhausted.

"Did you find them?" Azula asked primly when he approached. Jet didn't bother to look at her.

"No," he responded in a monotone.

"Fantastic, Jet," Azula snorted. "First you lose the keys, now you strand us here."

She clapped, slow and sarcastic. He shrugged indifferently, leaning on the back of the car. She could degrade him all she wanted, it wasn't going to solve their problem. He kicked a dust clod with his toe.

"Can't you get your rich-ass dad to come get us?"

"Don't talk about my father that way," Azula growled defensively. "And I already tried calling him. There's no reception out here."

Jet actually had to check his own cell phone to be sure that she wasn't lying. For all he knew, she could want them to stay stranded. She had driven them all the way out here, afterall.

"Do you still have gas?" he asked. "We could hotwire it."

"Do you know how much my father paid for this vehicle? And you want to damage it with your half-skilled hog-monkey hands? Forget it."

"Look, we shouldn't stay out here all night. Maybe there's a gas station down the road with a payphone. We can call a tow truck."

"So get walking."

As if on cue, a coyote howled. Jet huffed.

"It's dangerous."

"Aww, poor widdle Jet is afraid of the big bad wolf," Azula mocked, laughing emptily. Jet frowned.

"You know, I was going to say that it was dangerous and that I don't want to leave you alone."

"How thoughtful." Azula stepped right in front of him, demanding and important. "You think you're funny. You think you're smart. Guess what. You're not. You don't know how much I hate you right now."

"You know. . ." Jet sighed. "I think I hate you as much as you hate me. So go ahead, laugh. Make fun of me. You're arrogant and stuck-up and bitchy, but there's worse." At this, he laughed, about as sadistic as she had before. "Oh! There's much worse. You know what that is?"

In a strange way, Azula felt she was looking into a mirror. She wanted to kill him. "What?"

He became serious. "You're a monster."

She slapped him, hard. But before she could do anymore damage, she whirled around and walked away from him again. Now boiling over with rage, and noticing that her defenses were down, Jet followed and open fire.

"What, afraid to admit it's true?!" he called. She stopped in her tracks. "Afraid to admit that you don't give a damn about the rest of the world around you as long as it does what you say? Azula, you have no idea what I've tried to do! The rest of the school hates you, and you know, for a long time, I couldn't understand why. I thought you were strong, I thought you were intense, I thought you were. . . none of that matters, you know? After all of this, anything that anyone does for you is worthless. It makes you a monster."

"YOU HAVE NO IDEA WHAT I'VE BEEN THROUGH!" Azula whirled on him, violent and releasing her demons, shoving a finger at his neck and pushing him back towards the car. "Don't you have any inclination at all as to what the hell you and your stupid antics have done to me, Jet? I can't sleep, I can't eat, I can't even think without you being there in my head! I don't particularly care if you hate me, because that won't matter, because apparently my mind is trapped in some horrible mental lapse where I can't get rid of you!"

She now had him as far up to the car as they could get, her face close to his like that evening in the garden, only now their roles were reversed. Azula now gripped him fully by the collar, particularly his tie, seething with rage. She waited for him to say something, say anything, but his mouth was tight and his eyes were wide, neither afraid nor angry. It occurred to Azula that he was listening. He wanted her to say more. She wanted to glare into his soul and rip it to shreds, but her head bowed, and her voice shook at her next words.

"You said that you loved me."

Jet wanted to place a hand on her shoulder or provide chest to comfort, but to touch her would be suicide. Instead, he asked softly, "Did you believe me?"

She took a step back, as if sensing that he wanted to console her; she had to get away. "I never said that," she snapped, looking away from him again. "You don't know what I believe."

"I would like to know."

". . . Tell me when you make up your mind." Azula sighed exhaustingly and sat on the hood of the car, spent of her anger, and now simply overwrought with fatigue and confusion. "I'm tired of playing your games."

She knew that mainly, because, it was a game she couldn't win.

A long silence followed. A cool breeze cascaded down from the mountains and Jet shivered, but didn't move. He faintly wondered if Azula was cold, and mentally slapped himself. It was thoughts like those, he believed, that got him into a situation such as this.

"How did you do it?" Azula asked quietly, not moving, her voice faint and distant. Her elbows sat on her propped-up knees.

"Do what?" he asked, just as quiet. He didn't want to break the delicate tension. He was walking on eggshells.

"Everything."

"Everything?"

She sighed, and he knew what must come. "I don't know, it all just sort of came together."

"I'm asking you how you did it, Jet." Her tone was critical now. "Did it start as some stupid game? Did you think it was a pathetic joke? Do you enjoy messing with people's heads, specifically mine?"

"Well, yeah," he admitted, and she glared harshly over her shoulder at him. "It did start off as a joke. And I never intended to wind up in the desert because of it, or end up. . . liking you."

"Once again," Azula sighed, and waved a dramatic, sarcastic hand in the air. "Make up your mind."

His brow furrowed. "I'm sorry. I really am."

Azula noticed that he was sincere. "What. . ." She tried to sound kind, or at least curious. His temper was just as volatile as hers. "What else did you do?"

Jet looked at her apprehensively. He hesitated to tell her—who knew what she could do with this information? Well, certainly not any more damage than stranding them out in the desert. He pressed on. "The cards I got from Bee. She works at Hallmark, and gave me a discount. You know, the girl in the yellow sundress? Yeah. That's Bee. She's one of my best friends."

Azula listened silently.

"And then, do you remember the day the roses fell out of the sky?" he asked. "Longshot said that he'd throw them from the school roof for me."

Still, Azula was silent.

"The shirt thing was totally Zuko's idea. I just did it for kicks," he chuckled, but it was plain to see that Azula found no humor in it. In fact, the joke had quite the opposite effect. Jet felt ashamed again. "Sorry. I didn't mean to get you upset."

She seemed to ignore his apology as she asked, "What about the roses?" Azula was truly interested to hear about them. "I had thought they were coming from Haru, but you. . ."

"Haru hired me part-time at the garden, so I got 'em for free. Pretty smooth, huh?"

Azula wasn't impressed. "And how did you know where I was all the time? Are you some kind of. . . professional stalker?"

Jet laughed nervously. "No, but I can say that I got to know you more than anyone else. It's why I guess I kinda. . . like you, now. That, and I got to see more, if you know what I mean."

She glared harshly at him for his rude innuendo. He held up his hands. "Kidding, kidding."

Azula went back to the issue. "And the thorns? Why did you leave them on?"

"It cost more to cut them off."

"Really?"

"Yeah. And like I told you, I'm running low on cash."

"I thought you had a job."

"I do, but I gotta use my paychecks to fix this damn hole in my kitchen wall. My foster parents are going ballistic over it."

"What happened?"

"I punched it."

"That was rather stupid," Azula commented, thinking of her brother. "Why?"

"I was pissed off."

"About what?"

"About you." Jet sat heavily on the car's hood beside her, head drooping. "It was a stupid reason too."

"Are you still. . . mad about it?" Azula didn't know whether she wanted to press the issue or not. It could result in him exploding again.

"Nah." Jet shook his head. "I was just pissed that you were going out with Chan, and I couldn't even understand why I was jealous."

This actually got a snicker out of her. "He's such a jerk."

"That's an understatement," he agreed, chuckling, the tension seeming to finally ease.

Another silence passed, and again it was awkward, but not because of the cold facades and lack of interpersonal connection. It was awkward because now there were no cold facades, and there were interpersonal connections—the kind that Azula had never quite imagined herself in, especially that day long ago in history class when she had first gotten the roses. It was messed up, it was insane, and it was strangely. . . right.

"You know what's funny?" Azula asked while Jet was staring at the midnight sky.

"What?" he replied, turning to her.

"I've been thinking about some things. . . like, maybe this could work."

"And why do you say that?"

"Because quite frankly," Azula said, there was a peculiar flutter to her voice, as if she was not used to talking in such a manner. "A part of me has been wondering what it would be like to. . . to kiss you."

"Again," he added. It took a moment for Azula to remember that he had kissed her before in the garden. She blushed.

"Yes. Again."

"Well, I'm here. Go ahead."

He smiled charmingly and closed his eyes, respecting her. Azula carefully scooted close, even though he could see her, and brushed her lips with his. She shivered when he raised his hand and placed it on her shoulder, trying to relax her. He was inclined to deepen the kiss when she tilted her head, when she was actually pulling away.

"I'm sorry," she apologized quickly, nervously. "I can't do this."

Jet pulled back. "We can take it slow."

"No. My father will—"

"Don't think about your father." He laid that hand on her shoulder again. "You say that you can't stop thinking about me. And I can't stop thinking about you. Just focus on that, and you'll be fine."

Azula nodded, and went in for the kiss again. This time he stretched his arm to cup her head behind her ear, gentle and encouraging. He felt her arm become stiff and rigid, like ice, robotically moving and unsure of what to do. Carefully and lovingly he guided her hand to his shoulder so she had something to grab onto, and he felt it clutch down for security. It was only then, did she relax.

"Can I ask you a favor?" she asked when they broke away.

He smiled warmly. "Anything you want, babe."

"Well for one, don't call me that in public," Azula chided. He chuckled. "I'm serious."

"All right, all right. Whatcha need?"

"I was. . . call me childish for this, but, I was wondering if we could look at the stars. Together."

Jet cocked his head amusingly. "Whatever you like."

They reclined on the convertible's hood and windshield, faces tilted up at the constellated heavens.

"You comfy?" Jet asked, as she laid down on his arm, using it as a pillow.

"Yes."

They even watched the sunrise together.

Author's Note: OOCness abound, I fear. . . You tell me. But I think I covered everything. If not, I'll certainly go back and edit it. Also, I do plan an epilogue - I had one written out, but didn't like it, and changed my mind. I'm in the middle of that right now :D