i am never without it, an all canon compliant drabble
It is like a bolt of lightning passing through her heart whenever she thinks about it. She has never been struck by lightning, but she has felt the effects of it beneath her fingers. She has knitted together the internal damage from such a strike. It aches like a gentle, peaceful destruction, crackling and electric and completely natural and devastating. It is not wrong because it is an elemental strike, but it is wrong as she pulls together the pieces torn apart by sparks and tendrils of electricity winding their way through the body. It is not easy to remember the exact moment of such a strike of emotion like lightning, just that she feels it and she feels the aftershocks, the ripples that course through her and touch every part of her in a butterfly effect. Everything is suddenly within the grasp of electricity and it gives her life a brand new perspective—
Life after she has been struck by lightning.
Life after she has fallen in love.
Being in love with Zuko, she concludes, is like being struck by lightning.
The only thing left of her love is something she must piece together, sewn haphazardly like a torn seam. It is not wrong because it is love, truly and purely, but it is wrong as she seeks to mend the destruction winding its way through her body. It is not easy to remember the exact moment of such a strike of emotion like love, just that she feels it and she feels the aftershocks. A faint stirring of her nerves as she realizes he has saved her life without a moment's hesitation. The painful wrenching of her heart as she watches him silently mourn the loss of the last member of his family. The way she feels betrayal at taking Aang's hand in front of him; the way the betrayal threatens to rock her unsteady, lightning torn heart out of rhythm when Aang kisses her in front of him.
This is her life, she surmises. A life living with a heart forever altered by the strike of lightning, careful to adjust to the changes.
Excessive strain is to be monitored and she must be careful of the faintness of her own heart; it is not as strong as it used to be, it cannot withstand everything that it used to be able to. She must take into account to adjust to the changes of her new lightning struck love. Fear of excessive strain is what keeps her from having children until she is nearly thirty, and when she does, it is what keeps her from having a whole herd of them the way she has always wanted. She is careful of the faintness of her own heart, not to imagine too much what her children would look like under different circumstances, not to stare too long when she meets the Fire Princess, not to cry too much on her pillow at night. Her heart is not as strong as it used to be, it cannot withstand everything that it used to be able to.
This is why, she thinks, her heart feels a groan of relief as Aang slips away, the pressure relieved but the tear in her heart widening at his absence. She is both alleviated and heartbroken at his death, but she is familiar with the attempts, and she pulls together the pieces of her lightning torn heart.
She is hesitant and careful and in all her eighty-five years of life, she has only felt this stirring of nerves once, when her life was spared. She stares up into the familiar scarred face, her old bones trembling but sure as they reach to touch him. He is real, from the glassy appearance of his golden eyes, to the gray length of hair that falls over his shoulders, to the way that he winces when her fingers touch the center of his chest where the lightning died in his ribs. His hand closes over her hand and he looks down at her, his eyes meeting hers and she feels the rapid crackling, the static charge in the air, and she looks away.
Sometimes, she wonders, whether she is the one who has been struck by lightning. Her chest is absent of physical scars, but she knows that she is never without the scars beneath the surface.
notes: a second part from zuko's point of view will be posted in the next few days, so consider this a two-shot. it is also mildly inspired by the popular poem by e.e. cummings. i carry your heart with me(i carry it in my heart)