A/N: I wrote these Maiko drabbles a few days ago as an attempt to get my brain functioning again. I hope you enjoy them, if even a little bit.

Distances

Mai knew her parents peripherally; she knew their habits, their likes and dislikes and their mannerisms. She was all too aware of what they both expected from her. But she did not know what was in their hearts. She didn't know what they felt passionate about or what they really enjoyed; enjoyed with the same abandon Mai felt while throwing her knives.

For fifteen years she resided in the same house as they did. For fifteen years, she shared meals, went about mundane activities, slept and read and stared out at the rain or the blazing sun, longing for something different, better. She longed in silence, only expressing boredom on occasion or disdain for the prison her parents wanted her to enter willingly.

The sound of her mother's voice grated on her nerves. The way her father sipped his tea irritated her. Yet, she did not know these people who happened to be her parents.

Zuko left three years earlier, in the deep dark just before sunrise, on some old ship that his uncle scrounged up. He was sixteen now, Zuko; banished and disgraced, wandering the world over and over again, scarred on the surface and much deeper down. Mai knew only some of this for certain. The rest she surmised. Despite the distance and time that yawned wide between them, despite the little time she had ever spent with him, she and Zuko were not strangers.

A thread, thin and fragile perhaps, woven of shy confessions and tender moments, comfort and empathy, connected them yet. Perhaps one day they would reunite. Until that time, Mai would cherish the closeness she still felt, one she would never feel for or with her parents.

Solace

Every night, the same horror plagued Mai. Long after her parents had gone to bed and were silent in their room, long after the people of Capitol City finished their business or pleasure and were safe in their houses, Mai dreamed. The word dream implied something pleasant or something wished for. What Mai saw and felt during that time of deepest sleep, her body still as a corpse, was not something she ever wanted to experience while awake. And every time she rose from bed, every time that she opened her eyes, the relief she felt was like a presence in her bedroom, palpable and solid. It took a few minutes for the nightmare to fade enough for her to function. But it always loomed in the background like a beast of prey ready to gobble her up.

The need to feel the fresh, early morning air, still tinged with dew, drew her to the wide expanse of windows that filled one wall of her room. She flung back the shutters and breathed in deep and long. The sun, weak yet, tickled her bare arms. She rubbed delicate hands along the skin and stared at the horizon, straining her eyes.

The simple knowledge that out there, somewhere in the world, Zuko lived and breathed and wanted to come home, was all that kept her going these days. She recalled his face, his eyes especially, and drew strength from the memory. The prince couldn't banish the nightmare, as he had been banished, but his existence made them bearable.

And when he did come home, it would vanish, never to return, no matter how hard it tried to regain its grip on her. Mai was sure of it.

Perfect Pair

He was miserable. Mai could see that. Anyone could see that. Zuko was Fire Lord. He'd wanted the throne for as long as she or he could recall; not for power's sake, but for the genuine love he felt for his nation. Now he had the throne and the job was killing him.

Zuko was intense. And his anger and worry, his frustration and his fatigue were always on full display for Mai. He couldn't disguise his emotions even if he wanted to. His eyes expressed everything, swirling kaleidoscopes of rage, fear, exasperation and love. Sometimes it was difficult to sit in the same room with him. Sometimes it was all too much for Mai.

Her emotions she kept under rigid control and her eyes rarely betrayed a thing. Inside, each was kept in a separate compartment and rarely broke free. And when they did, whatever Mai expressed was muted and subtle, little hints of the stronger passions contained within her.

They made a strange mix, but a complimentary one, and their relationship worked. Still, on occasion, Mai needed a break. It was then she trained, took a long walk alone or burrowed away in the library, losing herself in some historical drama or poetry.

"I'm sorry, Mai; I just can't contain all this stuff." Zuko waved his arms about. "If I kept it all inside, I'd go crazy."

"Like I am?" Mai asked with a wicked smirk.

"No, no, that's who you are, the person who keeps things to herself. But I'm not like that."

"You're not," she agreed. "And it's not like I didn't know. You were an intense kid too."

"Are you sorry?"

"What?"

"Are you sorry that you're, you know, with me?" Zuko blushed then, thinking about what 'being with' Mai entailed.

"No, never."

"You're sure?"

Sometimes Zuko's insecurity was a bit much as well. She rolled her eyes. "I'm sure." Standing up, Mai walked over to Zuko, placing a gentle hand on his arm before standing on her toes and kissing him full on the lips. "The kisses alone are worth everything."

Zuko's eyes sparkled with delight. "Then I'll have to return the kiss, won't I?"

The tension and worry fled his body and mind and for a moment he was at peace. Mai had the power, the ability to soothe and calm him like no one else.

"Perfect pair," he muttered under his breath and smiled.