Disclaimer: Avatar: The Last Airbender belongs to Bryke and Nickelodeon, not me.
Takes place between seasons two and three. A companion piece to "Breathe."
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His breath burst from him in measured breaks. He swung his dagger with precision. For the first time he fought alongside his father, the pride swelling in his chest. The Fire Nation soldiers fled from them as they wielded their weapons.
Rain pelted his face, the sharp cold drops stinging his skin. He skidded across the deck as he slashed and cut, wielding his short sword with newfound determination. Bato glanced at him from the corner of his eye and gave him a curt nod of approval.
"Sokka, get Toph," his sister called. She sent a sharp wave of water crashing over their enemies.
"All right," he called back absently. He grappled with a heavily armored soldier. The faceless opponent cut and slashed with the expertise of training, but he ducked, relying on his wits. The man choked and reached for him, but he toppled backwards instead. Sokka let out a short barking cry of victory. He snatched up the man's sword before he could react and bolted, leaping across the deck towards the next opponent.
A sharp, high-pitched scream startled him. The soldier took advantage of the break to grab him by the shoulders and wrench him to the deck. Sokka rolled over, rainwater soaking further into his clothes, and slashed wildly at the man's ankles. The soldier tumbled to the ground.
Sokka leaped onto the rigging. He climbed higher, surveying the battle beneath him. "Where's Dad?" he shouted.
"I don't know," Bato called back. "Katara yelled for him, and he left."
Sokka scanned the deck. The stark light of the moon cast shadows across the Fire Nation ship. The soldiers were fewer now, soon overtaken by the rebels. He caught sight of his father climbing over the side of the ship with something slung over his shoulder. Rain blurred his vision; he raked his hair out of his eyes and squinted. He realized what his father held, and his breath caught in his throat.
Toph lay in Hakoda's arms, white and limp. Her slender bare arms and legs dangled at odd, unearthly angles. Her dark hair trailed across her face and her soaked clothes clung to her skin. Sokka leaped from the rigging. "What happened?" he said.
"She fell," Hakoda said.
Sokka's heartbeat stalled. The girl's head tipped back, her slim white neck bared in the cold rain. Diluted blood trickled over Hakoda's hands. "I'll take her," he said hoarsely. Without waiting for a response he took Toph from his father's arms. Her small, compact body felt heavy, heavier than he thought she would be. He carried her away from the fight, away from the shouts and the clanging and the cold stinging rain, and ducked below the deck.
It was quieter here. The battle was reduced a muffled rumble above his head. He clutched Toph to his chest. The back of her head slumped against his shoulders; one tiny hand dangled limply over his forearm.
He hit open a door and found himself in a small room with two beds. Gently he laid Toph down on the nearest one; her arms and legs collapsed against the clean white of the sheets. He rocked back on his heels and stared at her. She was quiet and stiller- more motionless than he had ever seen her before. Usually she slept restlessly when they camped outside, tossing and turning in the plushness of Appa's sides while they complained and elbowed her until finally she settled into a deep, open-mouthed sleep, flopped on her stomach with her arms curled underneath her.
Sokka leaned over her, his cheek above her small nose and mouth. He held his breath, waiting. For a sickening moment, there was nothing. Then he felt the faint warmth of her breath against his skin. He relaxed, his heartbeat beginning for the first time since he saw her limp body in his father's arms.
Katara barged through the door. "Is she all right?" she demanded. Water dripped from her long brown hair and puddle on the floor.
"She's breathing, at least," he said.
"Move," Katara said, pushing past him. She sat on the edge of the bed and gently leaned Toph on her side. Deftly she pulled the pins and combs from Toph's hair. Her fingers came away red as she fingercombed the long, tangled, soaking strands. Sokka leaned over her shoulder. He could see the gash against the crown of the girl's head.
"If she doesn't have a concussion, it'll be a miracle," he heard his sister murmur, mostly to herself. She unfastened the front of Toph's yellow tunic, stripping the wet clothing away. "If you had just helped her…"
"What?" he said, his skin crawling cold.
"You were supposed to help her off the ladder," Katara said absently. She pulled off the rest of Toph's clothing, leaving her in her sleeveless white tunic and shorts. "She fell because you didn't help her. Hand me that blanket, will you?"
He did nothing. She turned around, scowling in irritation. "Didn't you hear me? I said-" She halted. "Sokka? You've gone all white."
He swallowed. "Guess I failed again," he said bitterly, almost trying to smile.
"Oh, Sokka," Katara said, taking him by the wrist. "Sokka, I didn't mean it."
"No," he said. "No, you're right." He raked his fingers through his hair. "Go up and help Dad. I'll stay with her."
She bit her lip. "You go," she said.
"No," he said fiercely. He pulled her up. "I need to stay."
He picked up a blanket from the other bed and tucked it around the small girl. Katara touched his shoulder. "There's blood on you," she said.
"Go," he repeated, shaking her hand away. Katara left, closing the door behind her. Sokka sat down on the edge of the bed and leaned over Toph. She remained lost in unconsciousness, still and pale. The clean sheets beneath her were stained with water and droplets of blood. Sokka dropped his forehead against hers. Her faint breathing felt warm against his skin.
"I'm sorry," he whispered.
She didn't answer him.
He closed his eyes. All he saw was Yue, white and silent beside the gray pool. The memory made his chest ache.
A slight movement startled him. He opened his eyes to see Toph turning slightly. Her pale lips parted, and a soft pink flush warmed her cheeks. She sighed heavily; her breathing began to deepen and even.
Sokka smoothed her heavy, silky hair away from her face. "I'm sorry," he said again.
Regret still weighed heavily on his shoulders, but at least this time he had a second chance.
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Author's Notes:
Annnnnngggggssssst.
This was written on the spur of the moment as a companion piece to my oneshot "Breathe." A reviewer (I believe it was Squirrel) mentinoed that they wanted to know what Sokka's point of view was during that oneshot, and I thought "Hmmmmmokay."
Hope you enjoyed it!