Translator's Notes:A little bit of information about the original author: Samara Lestrange (Pen name: -Samara-Lestrange-) is a fifteen-year-old Bolivian girl who enjoys many different animes, including Slayers, InuYasha, Shaman King, Fullmetal Alchemist, and many others. She also enjoys rock music and the series Harry Potter and Lord of the Rings. Oh, and she likes to sleep and draw, too :P

Samara is also the author of Ella es mi pecado, or She Is My Sin, a Zutara fic.

For the curious, I've re-uploaded this onto my translations account, because I felt it was a bit out-of-place at my normal account. Anyway, I will translate and forward any and all reviews left for this fic. :) Enjoy!

Hi!

Here is my new fic. I've always liked the pairing Suki/Sokka (almost as much as I like Zutara :P). I think that a fic with the two of them has many interesting aspects to explore. And I apologize for the delay with She Is My Sin, o.o I swear that inspiration isn't coming to me XD Although we'll see how I go with this.

Have I forgotten something?

Ah, well, I have to admit that I'm not fulfilling my promise of updating every two weeks T.T But, paying attention to my poor, pathetic mind, I beg you guys to tell me your opinions about this new fanfiction. So I hope that, when I return, you guys have left me some sort of little note (Samara pouting). Ahh… Anyway, I think that the title already exists in some movie o.o I'm not sure XD but whatever. :P

Disclaimer: No, Avatar and Aang aren't mine… and I don't want them, as what I really want is Zuko XD

HEART ON ICE
By -Samara-Lestrange-
Translated by helium lost

Chapter 1. A Beginning

"Now you're free, and I'm not.

Now you're at peace, and I'm not.

Now you're dead, and I'm not."

These were the thoughts that flooded the mind of the teen, his warm breath forming tendrils of vapor before him. His hands, slightly numb from the cold, found refuge in the comfortable pockets of his coat. A thousand and one empty words and memories circled his head, repeating themselves again and again… just like every other time when, after class, he spent a moment on the skating rink.

He was reliving a past that would never be able to repeat itself, feeling again these sensations that he couldn't feel anymore… This place was empty, desolate, and alone, with only a few couples skating on the ice, and even then they kept the silence, a silence that perturbed and bothered him, submerging him further in his thoughts.

The blue-eyed teen inhaled the cold air, and it entered, cutting into his lungs. He didn't understand why he felt this hateful feeling, nor why he had these hateful memories that stifled him, nor could he understand why he always returned to the rink, knowing that he was just hurting himself. He left the pale ice to sit at the closest bank, adjusting his backpack on his shoulders before walking with heavy steps to the wooden bench.

Here he was again, spending another lonely afternoon with only the company of other skaters gliding on the thin blades of their skates… He envied their freedom. He was only a spectator who was trying to intensify the traces of his past, trying to maintain life in the smile of his mother, trying not to lose the memory of that marvelous woman, trying to try to feel again her caresses, her sobs… trying to feel again the presence of this woman who had left him and his sister, and, above all… his father.

He should have felt proud—rather, delighted—for the recent news. He had passed the tests to get into the martial arts team at the university, and he could begin his training this upcoming Monday with his companions. He had never been bad at sports, and even less when at self-defense, something to which his father had already introduced him, years back.

But five months ago, his life had crumbled to pieces around him, and everything that he had known—his life, his family—had stopped making sense to him…

His mother, Natsuki Masahiko, had been an excellent ice-skater in her better years, and, as a teenager, she had already participated in many of the Olympic games—her various medals and trophies still adorned the attic of their house. But the sweet girl had abandoned her career in the rink, her heart stolen by a handsome young man, with whom she would marry, years later, and with whom she would start a family. A beautiful and delicate woman, his mother…

"Everything began with just an illness…" Sokka sighed, exhaling the air as more clouds of vapor rose before him.

A grave and internal illness, that slowly but surely was consuming the life of his mother, until it extinguished the light from her eyes five months ago, months in which his father, like a coward, unable to bear the death of his marvelous and beloved Natsuki, decided to leave the city, too scared to go on in a place filled with memories of her. Beyond this feeling, and believing that the best was to help her father in his desperation, his sister, Katara, went with him to begin her secondary studies in London.

The chestnut-haired teen looked sadly at the humongous clock on the blank, white wall. He had to go; Rezo was waiting for him. A loyal and faithful dog, yes, but he ate huge amounts of food, and he had to be hungry by now.

Sokka stretched lightly, then adjusted his clothing and left the facilities, walking until he arrived at the entrance lobby. He approached an enormous, glass shelf displaying old photos, medals, and trophies of the excellent skaters that had ever set foot at the rink.

The lights shone on a beautiful picture, one that meant a lot to him. A girl with blue eyes and chestnut-colored hair that gracefully cascaded over her shoulders, dressed in a delicate, sky-blue ice-skater dress, triumphantly held up a golden cup. Behind her, there were various other girls with their skates over their shoulders, surely feeling the joy that she must have been feeling after winning. Below the image, engraved in black-and-white, were the words "Natsuki Tsurigame—National Figure-Skating Champion—1981."

He lowered his eyes and diverted his glance, trying to leave as soon as possible. His backpack was heavy on his shoulders, but not as much as the emptiness that flooded his stomach when he remembered what he had once had—a mother who would wait for him with open arms when he arrived home… He longed for this mother, who had brought him lovingly to this place so many times, and even though he was little, he had already known how to skate very well, but of course… having a teacher like her…

He left wearily through the enormous doors and felt air that was a little warmer sweep onto his face. It was an autumn afternoon, and he was in the middle of the city of Osaka; the tall buildings seemed to touch the rosy sky, painted with shades of red and purple. The trees displayed their withering foliage, and every so often, another leaf would fall gracefully with the breeze, brushing subtley against the people that passed through, living their monotonous lives in this moribund city.

The college students passed through the main avenue, flooding the place with their colorful uniforms. Sokka, deciding that the best would be to buy something to eat—as he wasn't up to cooking for himself—stopped for a moment before the intersection and examined the depths of his pockets, hoping to find some money so that he could stop at some place and buy something. Fortunately, he found enough to pay for a decent meal. The corners of his mouthed twitched into a small smile, and he crossed the street, intent on going to one of his favorite restaurants.

He passed various other shops, but he had his eyes set on the ice-cream shop with enormous stained-glass windows with Gothic letters spelling out the name of the place—Sinistra. Behind the windows, he saw the calm interior of the place—a bit dark, yes, but still very cozy. At a table by the window, there sat a couple engrossed in one another, showing off their affection to the world. Sokka frowned, disturbed—it was at that table that he had sat many times before during the summer afternoons with his mother and his sister to enjoy their favorite ice cream. Chocolate was his favorite, and strawberry, Katara's. But his mother always ordered coconut or vanilla. He wished that he could stop for a cup of coffee, but he was beginning to lag behind—he had to hurry up a bit…

A pair of kids ran close by him, almost knocking over a chubby woman hugging her groceries with both arms. The teen didn't pay much attention to her, instead looking in the direction in which the kids had ran off. He saw that the fast-food joint where he usually went was closed, and all the lights were off inside… The doors were closed, and there was obviously nothing for him to order.

"Damn it, not now…" he said, feeling the impulse to knock down the door, as his stomach was already beginning to growl. He put his hands on the glass of the door and tried to think of some other place where he could go to eat.

Resigned, he began to walk toward home, hoping to encounter some place on his way there. The cafés were full, and, as it was almost six, he could hardly blame them. His steps were accompanied by a delicate breeze that made the brown jacket he had on flutter.

Finally, he reached a place that looked promising.

"Kyoshi?" he whispered, reading the name on the modest building. Leaving behind any preconceived notion that he may have had about the place, he entered the place. The doors squeaked when they opened. Inside, everything was decorated with the colors black and gold, and a shade of green decorated the walls of the roomy place; the tables were open, inviting, and familiar with their tablecloths with pretty borders. Behind the tables, there was a counter.

The floor was wooden, just like many of the other decorations, and the small bar in the back attractively displayed its drinks and shots. Sokka continued looking around the well-lit, clean and cozy place. It seemed to him that the food wasn't too bad, either, as an exquisite aroma was beginning to dance near his nose…

He didn't really know the system of this place, and so he walked over and seated himself at a table farther away from the rest of them. He took off his backpack and made himself comfortable in the plush chair, observing for a moment the portrait on the wall behind him. It was of a beautiful woman with green eyes outlined excessively with black makeup. Her gaze was serious and deep. Her skin was white, and her lips were painted a strong, crimson color. There was neither a name nor a label beneath the picture; Sokka was wondering about this when someone lightly touched his back.

"Good afternoon. Can I help you?" said a voice behind him, bringing him back into reality. He turned to find himself looking into the smiling face of a girl.

"Umm… I haven't decided what I'm going to order yet," said Sokka, better examining the girl who was his waitress. She was dressed in baggy jeans and wore an apron tied around her waist with the word 'Kyoshi' embroidered in black on the front. Her shining hair was an auburn color—almost red—and her green eyes were like emeralds, exactly like the eyes of the woman in the portrait. Her lips were colored red, and her skin was smooth and pale.

"Are you sure? If you want, I can give you the menu," she suggested in a friendly tone, taking from who-knows-where a menu for the confused teen. She held his gaze for a moment before reaching out to give him the menu. "Sorry, but… You're not from here, right?" said the girl.

"Well, not really. It's the first time I've come here."

"I see… Well, welcome to Kyoshi, bar-café-restaurant. What would you like to order?" she said, almost bowing, as if she were following a daily routine. Then, the girl smiled, amused. "It's only a formality," she explained.

"Interesting…" Sokka returned the smile, losing himself in those beautiful emerald eyes, then hastily lowered his head again.

"I know, I know—it's strange, but it's the rules, and I have to follow them," said the brunette, closing her eyes and posing dramatically. "Well, anyway, about your order… What would you like?" she said, taking her notepad from her waist.

"Well, I've already told you that this is my first time coming here, so I haven't the least idea what they serve here, but I hope it's worth it…"

"Hey, I've worked here for a good amount of time, and we serve very delicious food," she said, slightly offended. "Well, if you want to know, we serve international food of all kinds: Italian, Mexican, Chinese, Arabian, even French… if you like." She rubbed her chin.

"Sounds good, but…" Sokka began, but she interrupted.

"Of course, we also have the classics—hamburgers, malts, ice cream, French fries, fish sticks, pizza—even though technically, that's Italian food," she said, laughing. Sokka felt warmed by her laugh, his shyness gradually disappearing.

"Well… fast food," he murmured, scanning the menu for all that was said by the girl.

"Oh, and, not to assume anything, but we also have an excellent selection of drinks," she said, winking at him. "Although… seeing your face, I'm guessing that you don't drink, right?" she said, peering into his face.

"What are you trying to say with that?"

"Oh… Nothing; it's just that, looking at your face, I'm sure that you don't like to drink."

"I do drink, just not very much. Sorry if I don't drink as much as you…"

"I didn't mean that; it was just a little joke. You don't have to be so huffy," she said, taking up her notepad again. "Anywho, I'm a little busy right now, so please tell me what you'd like to order."

"What do you recommend?"

"Well, it depends. Are you going to eat here, or are you going to take your food to go?"

"I'm going to eat here on account of the excellent service and attention," said Sokka sarcastically, smiling at the girl.

"Ha, ha. Very funny. Well, I'd recommend what everyone else likes to order—a hamburger with French fries piled up to the top of the plate, and our special malt," she said, smiling at him.

"Mmm, sounds good, but I didn't ask what everyone else orders—I asked for what you recommend," said Sokka, beginning to find himself interested in this girl.

The brunette gave him a strange look, but felt a slight tickling sensation at her collar. "Well then, if that's the case… you could try the lasagna, or the spaghetti. The pasta here's pretty good," she said, leaning lightly on the table, whispering her suggestions into his ear.

"All right, then an order of lasagna it'll be, err…" Sokka glanced at her apron for some sort of name tag or label, but he didn't see anything. "Sorry, but what's your name?"

"My name's Masagi Suki," she said casually as she took down his order. "Well then, in about five minutes or so, your order will be ready," she told him.

"All right, Miss Masagi," he said formally, still looking at her. Suki immediately noticed his gaze.

"Excuse me," she said, and left for the counter.

Sokka continued watchin the girl, the laces of her apron tied firmly around her narrow waist. He noticed the most her curves, and her hair that shone in the bright lights, falling past her shoulders. He leaned back a bit in the chair, waiting for his meal, and it seemed that Rezo would have to wait—something interesting had presented itself to him tonight, and it wasn't exactly the restaurant…

The sound of the door opening alerted the dog that was sleeping comfortably on the carpet of the room. The animal raised his pointed ears and woke up, and, with slow steps, he approached where he perceived the presence of his recently-arrived master. The lights were soon turned on and illuminated the room, furnished in a homely style, with a large sofa in the middle, three large chairs around it, carpeted in beige, and with various photos and pictures on the mantle behind the plush chairs.

A large window looked out onto the street of the suburb, but it was always covered with the voluminous, thick curtains.

"C'mere, Rezo. I haven't forgotten about you, boy," said the teen, taking off his heavy coat and throwing it onto the sofa. He went to the kitchen, followed by the enormous Labrador that wagged his tail frantically.

Sokka somewhat gone that night, or, at least, he felt that way when another waitress, instead of Suki Masagi, had come to give him his order. The teen arrived at the kitchen, where there was a rather small table with three chairs, and a long, marble counter, under which there were various drawers and boxes. Above the counter was a pretty and simple piece of furniture—or rather, the cupboard, and further along were the refrigerator and the stove.

Living alone in such a large house was one of the reasons why he preferred to spend his time outside. Plus, there was the fact that being outside the house would have it dirtied less often, and, well, he would have to clean less often, as well. And such a large, lonely place left him feeling consumed with loneliness, and for the most part, he liked to remain on the streets.

He knelt down until he was level with the first small drawer below the counter. He opened the doors and took out a large bag of dog food, and upon hearing the tearing of the bag, Rezo jumped up and started barking happily at his owner.

"Shh… I'm doing this as fast as I can," said Sokka, taking out a plastic bowl. Rezo barked and ran around happily as the red bowl was handed to him.

He took the towel and entered his room, still drying his hair, not bothering to turn on the lights. The day was finally over, and he was eager to jump into bed. He was tired, but felt better, remembering that the next day was Saturday, a well-deserved weekend before he would return to his classes at the university.

Sokka pulled on a comfortable pair of pants and a shirt to sleep in. He gave up trying to completely dry his hair, leaving it damp; he flung the towel at the basket for his dirty clothes. He went over to the bed that was waiting for him, and fell on top of it, collapsing as if all his strength had left him. The soft mattress, the smooth sheets, the brilliant moonlight streaming through the window… none of this made his life any less miserable, as it was usually during the night that he needed his family the most.

Nobody could listen to his problems, help him, understand him, wish him "good night", nor give him advice… There was no one to quarrel with to give him a feeling of sense to his life. He, Sokka Matsube, was one of the best students in Shinoda University, one of the guys that you could say had everything—good friends, good grades, a house all for himself, independence, a good social and academic life. Yet…

He had lived in that house since he was born, and he remained there, almost like how he remained at the rink, the heart of his mother. Natsuki had given in to the passion of that sport, just as she had absorbed herself completely when she became a mother and a wife.

The photos of his family on the bedside table reminded him that it was with them with whom he would curl up with to sleep when he felt as if he didn't have the strength to go on anymore. "Cruel fate," he thought, and heard his own voice filled with incredulity.

He had waited for years to enter the university and be the pride of his parents, who had prepared year after year for him to become the best… And just when he had done it… everything that had made sense for him vanished, leaving him utterly alone.

He turned and lay on his side, cheek pressed to the pillow, and wished that he could be in London with his father and with Katara, but he could never leave this house—the one that his father had wanted to sell weeks after Natsuki's death to try to get rid of all of those painful memories.

Staying here and going on here, where his mother had been and where she had walked, and not throwing all of his life overboard… Sokka knew how to pretend in front of his friends, who had given him their "deepest condolences". It would sadden him, and to continue carrying the memory of someone who had already left… it was torture. But he had wanted it to be like this… masochism or whatever you wanted to call it, he continued going to the skating rink, hoping and waiting until he plucked up the courage to return to skate on the ice…

Now, he had not regressed to the disastrous fate of things. He knew that he should go on… but for what? He didn't know for sure; he only knew that he would continue in the memory of his mother.

He yawned and curled up again between the sheets, and seconds before he fell asleep, he remembered the person who he had just met that day, that interesting girl… Masagi Suki, Sokka thought, smiling unconsciously. How silly it was to be thinking of her; the best he could do for himself was to leave his mind in peace for a day… or perhaps at least for a few hours, until he would go to see her again.

In only one night, he had already formed new expectations for himself—to many, perhaps. And without knowing it, he had already put Suki in one of them…

How was it? Was it bad? o.o Heheheh, well, you guys are seeing where I'm going with this, right? XD I know… You guys want to tie me up and lock me away because I'm not updating She Is My Sin, right:P

Zuko: If you already know… then why are you asking anyway, peanut-brain? ò.o?

I like to make things difficult :P Mwahahahaha, well, my beloved readers, here I bring you another crazy idea of mine, a Sokka/Suki fic. I know that not many of you like that pairing, but… I had to do it! MY CONSCIENCE screamed at me to do it T.T and you'll see that I'll add Katara later, and, of course, Zuko, because a fic isn't a fic without him…

Zuko: Are you trying to flatter me? Damn, the sky is going to fall ­­­­¬¬

Of course, because without you, there's no one for me to torture ;P Well, my beloved friends and Zuko, I shall leave you now, waiting for me to update soon. And of course, it would make me happy to see some reviews for this new fic o,o Can you believe that I dream about it? xD I beg of you guys TT don't be evil… I'm waiting for your reviews!

See you soon,

-Samara-Lestrange-

Translator's Notes: As this is my first serious translation, any and all feedback is appreciated—if anything sounded awkward, please point it out; also, if you are fluent in Spanish and would like to comment on my translation, please do so. :) Just make a note if your message is to me, instead of to Samara. Thanks!