Disclaimer: Avatar: The Last Airbender is property of Bryan Konietzko, Michael di Martino, and Nickelodean. I'm making no money on it, I'm not claiming any ownership, and everything will be removed at the request of the owners.

Chapter 1 - Ghosts of Summer

The late day sun scorched the Fire Nation, and Toph Bei Fong was blistering.

Or maybe she wasn't. She couldn't see how red her skin had grown, but she could feel a certain, raw tenderness along the backs of her hands—a sensation that had long denoted "sunburn" in her sightless world. Her mother, she knew, would've had a fit if she could see her now. But Toph hadn't heard her mother's reproachful voice in two years, except in her own mind. And at that moment, that disembodied voice was throwing a right good tantrum over the fact Toph was not using an umbrella.

For once, though, Toph was half-tempted to listen. There was no breeze that day, and the little balcony of the Fire Palace that she occupied was just now catching the full rays of the sun. Groaning, she turned on her side along the tiny divan, and now her back burned instead of her front.

How unpleasant. Blind as she was, Toph had developed a heightened sense of touch. Vibrations, temperature, even pain—everything she felt acutely, to a point that often amazed her friends. Today, though, it was doing her a disservice. The heat baked her through thin layers of silk, sweaty skin sticking to fabric until it chaffed in areas she hadn't thought could chaff. Part of her just wanted to tear the ridiculous ensemble off—go naked and shock the Palace staff. The thought of their mortified and dismayed cries made her smirk, and almost convinced her to do it.

Yugh. But it was just too hot to move.

"Enjoying the view?"

Zuko's voice broke through her dim, muggy daze. Frowning, she blew out her bangs and sat up. Such a question could've been asked in innocence, and Zuko often was just as tactless as Sokka. But after six years, she'd grown used to his sometimes cruel ridicule. And learned how to give it right back.

"Trying not to broil, your Lordliness." Gracelessly, she scratched at the silk bunched just under her breasts, and realized she'd sweated through it. "It's surprising you Fire Nation bunch don't stink worse than you do."

"Unlike a certain someone, we actually bathe." His heavy boots clopped against the heat-soaked marble, and she wondered briefly if he'd been out of the Palace. The smell of earth clung to him as he took a seat beside her, his weight shifting the upholstery such that she unconsciously leaned toward him. Scowling, Toph punched him in the shoulder.

"I'm not a little pansy who likes to ferment in bath oils and rosewater. So what?"

"A pansy, maybe not. But little…" There was humor in his voice as he patted the top of her bunned head, making her grimace. She hadn't grown into one of those tall beauties so admired in the Fire Nation, like Mai or even Katara. In fact, she'd stopped growing altogether when she hit fourteen, much to both Zuko's and Sokka's amusements.

Whatever. She could still kick both their butts.

Toph let the gesture slide, though. She could break his fingers later. Right now, she was curious. "What were you doing out in the woods?"

Zuko seemed genuinely surprised at the insight; she could feel how he shifted to give her an incredulous look. "Spying on me from the balcony?"

"You reek of pine."

That contented him. "Wild animals have been harassing the villages outside of the capital. These days, there's always a new report of villagers having to kill some animal trying to get past the palisades. So I thought I'd go see for myself."

"No offense, but isn't that kind of hands-on for those soft, manicured fingers of yours, Princy?" She lied; she really did mean offense. "Why wasn't Uncle handling it?" Toph Bei Fong, over the years, had become a frequent enough presence in the Fire Lord household that she'd practically carved out a place for herself. As such, General Iroh had long since stopped being 'General Iroh.' Now he was simply 'Uncle.' And Toph deeply loved him as if he really were that to her.

"I didn't want him out in this heat," Zuko said a little too stiffly. Then he was standing, taking her hand. "Speaking of which, why can't we have this conversation somewhere shadier?" His palm was sticky, and heat radiated off his arm enough that Toph suspected he was dressed in something dark. The Fire Nation just loved their dark colors, even when it was fundamentally ridiculous to wear them.

Toph immediately pulled out of his grasp, taking a moment to straighten the pleats of her thin, green robe. It was a lady's gown, meant to be worn at leisure while in court. It was also not Toph's usual fare, but she always changed out her knee-length trousers and sleeveless robe for something a bit more feminine when at the Palace. Wearing her typical attire used to bring a load of consternation down on her, and her neck would crawl with the feeling of the staff's reproving stares. Well, let them stare! They were all batty if they thought she cared.

She just didn't like how unhappy it made Mai.

Mai. Now there was a dysfunctional relationship. The first few years had been cordial enough. Mai tolerated Toph's frequent and unexpected visits, and treated her with all the grace of an adept hostess. She even cracked a few smiles (as Iroh told her later) at some of Toph's raunchier jokes. That changed, though, as the pressures of running the Fire Nation began to pile up. Mai was clearly a much more talented bureaucrat than Zuko, and Toph wagered Zuko didn't even see a fat bunch of the orders and dictates that came rolling through. Mai was so well trained that running a nation had literally become an art form for her, and one she'd quickly mastered.

Unfortunately, as the work load grew out of control, so too did Mai's stress. Suddenly, she wasn't so warm—if ever the word 'warm' could be applied to her—to Toph's random visits. Suddenly, she was disapproving of Toph's table manners, and her tendency to belch loudly in front of foreign dignitaries. Suddenly, she felt nothing but distaste for all of Toph's crude habits, clothes, and speech.

In other words, suddenly, she'd become Toph's mom.

At one point, the fighting between them had grown so violent that Toph had stormed out in a rage, vowing never to return. That didn't last long. By the next summer, Toph was on their front stoop again, acting as if the fight had never happened. After all, how could she stay away from Uncle? And dear, sweet Grumpy-Face? Throughout all of her traveling—all of her great forays into the wild unknowns—Toph had always called the Fire Palace her second home. With Toph's friends scattered on the wind, and Gaoling forbidden territory, the Fire Nation was the only place stable enough to return to.

She and Mai had mended their friendship, though they had yet to forget the fight. Instead, they compromised. Toph dressed a little more appropriately for court, and Mai held her tongue about Toph's thick, healthy coating of dirt. Toph minded her manners in front of guests, and Mai refrained from locking her in her room during dinner. It brought peace to the household, much to Zuko's relief, and the two girls co-existed well enough as long as they didn't talk too often.

Again, kind of like Toph and her mom.

They'd reached the cool interior of a Palace room, which Toph assumed was one of the dozens of administrative offices scattered throughout this wing. Perhaps even Zuko's personal office, though he never used that room, preferring another chamber with an airy view of the turtle-duck pond. This room most certainly didn't have a window; it smelled musty, and spider-beetles crawled behind several scrolls stacked in a recessed shelf.

"Out with it." Toph had to pause as she stepped into the room, the thin-threaded carpet momentarily disorienting her. Mai would've preferred she wear shoes, but that wasn't something she was about to do. "What's the real deal with you not sending Uncle?"

Zuko pulled out a narrow, high-backed seat for her, but she refused it with crossed arms. "His visits are becoming rarer," he said with a sigh, taking the chair himself. "I just thought I'd keep him from spending his whole vacation running errands for me."

"Yuh-huh. Now are you ready to stop lying to the living lie detector?"

There was silence as Zuko considered her, likely sizing up her bluff. Not that Toph really needed to bluff; she'd known Zuko long enough to see right through his words. Finally, he relented, the chair creaking as he propped an elbow on one knee.

"He's getting old, Toph. And I'm worried about his health."

"Uncle? Sick? I bet he's got firmer abs than you, tiara-boy."

"It's not a tiara," Zuko snapped in a moment of nostalgic immaturity. Then, just as quickly, he'd brushed it off. "This heat, Toph…it's doing crazy things to people."

The ominous note to his voice immediately caught her attention. "Crazy like what?" Unconsciously, she started to bend herself a seat from the floor, but then hesitated; Zuko probably wouldn't appreciate her destroying his carpet.

"Just…crazy. Animals are going into villages now, and the outlying communities are afraid. Skirmishes in the city, fights in the districts. Did you know we've had two outbreaks of unexplained illnesses on two completely unrelated streets?"

"And how are you sure these are all related to the heat?"

"I just know my city." Suddenly, Zuko stood, pushing his chair back to where he found it. "I've been the Fire Lord for six years, and I haven't seen anything like this."

"It's summer, Zuko." There was uncharacteristic reassurance in her manner, though she made sure to keep her expression hard. "And this is the Fire Nation…"

"Again, I know my city. I know my home." He pressed his hand against the wall. "And this isn't normal."

Toph let him enjoy his gloomy silence for a moment—though, in all reality, she was feeling it a little, too. "So you thought the temperature might get to Uncle?"

"I just didn't want to take the chance." Zuko was pulling open the door now, its metal-studded wood creaking on the hinges. "Please don't tell Mai about this?"

Toph snorted, ambling out at his invitation, back into the hallway. "I'm only allotted three sentences to speak to her, and I'm not gonna waste them whining about you."

"Ah," he said, shutting the door behind him. "Are you two still on the three-sentence-rule?"

"Kept the peace, hasn't it?"

"And it keeps you quiet."

Toph smirked at that, and fell in place at his side. "Why don't you just tell Mai what's worrying you?"

"She has enough to worry about without me adding to it."

"You know, Uncle would probably think you're being ridiculous."

"Yeah," Zuko said distantly, and suddenly, his mood no longer invited conversation. So Toph stopped speaking, allowing only the hollow echo of their footsteps to follow them down the hall.

~o~`~o~`~o~

The light of the green crystals created shadows on the wall, weak and blurred as they melded with each other. Those silhouettes had become Aang's only company; in the three days he'd been shut up in that room, he'd been essentially alone.

Essentially. In truth, the withered form of King Bumi was there, as well, though he hadn't spoken more than ten words in the last two days. Instead, he lay silent in the bed beside Aang, his sunken eyes closed in sleep, a shock of white, matted hair strewn across his pillow. The garish rings he never lacked were now missing, and twig-thin fingers grasped the sheet weakly in a desperate attempt to keep warm.

That in itself was telling; outside the Omashu Palace, the world was baking under a late summer sun, and even this far inside cold stone walls, Aang could feel some of the oppressive heat. Bumi, however, felt nothing; not the heavy sheen of sweat on his forehead, not the way his chest moved with labored breaths.

He was dying. Aang had known he was dying, even before receiving the message to come to Omashu at once. There was some connection Aang shared with the earth that told him when he was needed most. And he knew, right then, that the need was with his oldest friend.

Aang refused to leave his side. He would be with Bumi until the final moments, when the king moved on to what awaited him next. Bumi had never had a family of his own, but he'd always been a part of Aang's—the crazy uncle who balanced a line between 'entertaining' and 'scaring the cousins.' The kind of uncle who made every day an adventure. So Aang waited with red eyes and a heart that was too tired to cry.

"Why the long arrow, young airbender?" The voice was barely a rasp, and Aang turned away from the shadows thrown against the wall. In the faint light, Bumi's eyes still looked closed, but his mouth had fallen open, revealing three prominent teeth.

"I'm sad that you have to be stuck in bed," Aang murmured as he leaned forward. "I wish you could be out in the fresh air."

Bumi chuckled—a harsh, brassy laugh that almost sounded like tiny coughs. "I do like the air, but I'm just as fine with being trapped in here. After all, I'll soon be calling such a place home, anyway—might as well make myself comfortable."

Aang grimaced at the morbid joke. "You shouldn't talk like that."

Again, that hoarse chuckle. "Ah, to be young and afraid."

Aang couldn't say he was afraid of death; he had faced it too many times to really fear it, anymore. But he did fear the death of those he loved. Which included Bumi. "How about you? Are you scared?"

"No…" His voice trailed off, fatigued. "To be honest, I embrace the challenge. Not much could best me in life. Maybe death will finally surprise me."

Despite the tears forming in the corner of his eyes, Aang cracked a grin. "I hope you keep winning the battles, Bumi."

"Not forever, Aang. Not forever." He grinned, too, the expression making his eyes sink even farther into his cheeks. "Although…I do miss my Flopsie-kins."

"He's waiting downstairs for you. Sokka's watching him."

The grin immediately vanished. "Oh. Well, I suppose you better go fish the boy out of Flopsie's digestive tract." Aang laughed at that. "Tell me, have the chimpanzee-egrets begun to migrate yet?"

"Huh?" The question took him aback, and he blinked at Bumi in confusion. In turn, the king waved a bony hand gently in the air, though he dropped it back on the bed a moment later, exhausted.

"Come, come, there's no window in here. Have you seen the chimp-egrets migrate?"

"Um…no." He actually hadn't. All the way from the South Pole, Aang hadn't seen any of the birds migrating. None had started their yearly trek out of the mountain range. "Why?"

"And the water-orchids? I do so love the water-orchids. Are they in bloom?"

"I…I didn't see any." They were a vivid shade of blue, so brilliant that they were visible from the earth even on the back of Appa. But this year the mountainsides were barren.

"Hmm…this certainly is a pickle." Bumi gave a hum, smiling faintly. "A pickle sounds delicious, actually. Would you care for one, Aang?"

"What do those things tell you?" He ignored the tangent, as he ignored most of Bumi's odd tangents. "What's worrying you?"

Bumi let out a disappointed sigh. "We'll come back to the pickle later." Then, abruptly, his mood turned unusually serious. "Listen now. I noticed something odd this year. I noticed that at the end of Winter, Omashu's walls were wet. Do you know what that means, Aang?" He understood it about as much as he understood the water orchids or chimp-egrets, so immediately, he shook his head. Though his eyes remained closed, Bumi somehow recognized the gesture. "I wanted to write to you, but I thought I would wait for the birds. Oh, the birds…"

Bumi trailed off wistfully, and it was a long moment before he spoke again. "It's been how long? Six years since the war? I honestly didn't think there was anything left to concern us. But…I must tell you something now, Aang, and you must pay attention. No stalling, or ridiculous tangents, or inexcusable sidetracking from this most particularly important point, which I shall tell you if you would simply lend me your ear, instead of catching yourself up in frivolous daydreams—"

"Bumi, just tell me." Aang had scooted to the edge of chair. In response, the king frowned, his eyes still closed, and looked on the verge of sticking out his tongue.

"You're so impatient. It makes me wonder who's the one dying here…"

Aang didn't respond to the joke, and perhaps sensing his anxiety, Bumi sobered quickly.

"Now, Aang, listen well…"

~o~`~o~`~o~

Sokka pored over a letter from Suki. It was such a charming note; every character was imbued with her tenderness, every line following a delicate curve that almost—but not quite—mimicked the sweet curves of her—

Sokka frowned. The gorilla-goat was staring at him again.

"I'm not normally this gushy," he explained, though Flopsie obviously didn't care. Stashing the note away, he hopped down from the stone barrier that formed the perimeter of Flopsie's run. "And I know what you're saying—Suki and I are through. Finished. Broken up and moved on. Which you're totally right, but…" He sighed forlornly, patting the pocket of his ao gam robe which now held the note. "Sometimes, you can love without being in love."

The gorilla-goat blinked and scratched its ear with a thick hind foot.

"You'll understand when you're older."

The relationship between him and Suki had ended a few years back. Not really because they got on each other's nerves—though he knew he certainly got on hers—but because they both had taken different directions. Suki was always destined to be the leader of the Kyoshi Warriors; that was her role in this world, and she hadn't ever questioned it. Nor had he. Sokka knew exactly what the Warriors meant to Suki, so he not only supported, but encouraged her to return to Kyoshi Island.

However, Sokka was meant to lead the Southern Water Tribe in its attempts to rebuild. He was always destined to take his father's place. And while Hakoda still had quite a few good years left in him, there was no one he trusted more to help him than his twenty-two-year-old son.

The good-bye between him and Suki was heartbreaking. After the two had (tearfully, on Sokka's part) separated, they had kept up a long-distance relationship through Hawky for a little while. But eventually that faded away as their responsibilities grew larger. It wasn't fair to either of them to continue clinging to a relationship that would never progress past a few syrupy love letters. It was best just to make a clean break.

But, kumquats, he missed her terribly sometimes.

Flopsie, at that moment, growled, thus pulling Sokka from his nostalgic daydreams. "Huh? What's wrong?" Then his stomach growled, and he thought he knew the problem. "Oh, you want something to eat?" In response, Flopsie hopped forward, then snuffled his clothing. With a grin, Sokka pushed at his head. "Alright, alright, get down. You're drooling on my robe." His very fancy robe, which he saved only for very fancy visits to very fancy palaces.

Not that Omashu seemed all that fancy to him, anymore, but at least the blue silk robe was a tad bit cooler than his Water Tribe robes would've been. Actually, going naked would've been a lot cooler. But he wasn't in the mood to test the generally good humor of the Omashu guard.

Flopsie was still pushing at him with its large, wet, black nose. "I got it, I'm going!" Time to raid the kitchens and find some meat.

But as Sokka crawled out of the pen and into the covered walkway that bordered it, he was immediately brought up short by the appearance of Aang. The young airbender had blossomed in six years. He was now as tall as Sokka, his boyish features replaced with a manly jaw that he even shaved on occasion. He was still pretty lanky, never really filling out with muscles, but that was totally misleading—Sokka had seen him without a shirt; the kid was ripped.

Most of it was hidden under drapings of orange robes, a sign of his Air Nomad origins, which had eventually grown into a sign of his Avatar-hood, too. Sokka had occasionally suggested he just wear whatever was comfortable, but for Aang, these robes were comfortable. They were one of his few links to a past he never wanted to forget.

The airbender walked toward him now, a pensive frown across his usually cheery face. That frown worried Sokka just as much as Aang's presence did. It meant that the worst had happened; it meant that there soon wouldn't be much reason to stay here.

"Is he…?" Sokka said tentatively as he neared, and for a moment, Aang didn't seem to recognize him or his question. But then he shook his head.

"He's just sleeping. He wanted me to come check on you, though." Now that he was close enough, Sokka could see the circles under Aang's eyes, and how red and swollen they looked. He squinted as if the sunlight were simply too bright.

Sokka only feigned being hurt. "Bumi didn't trust me with Flopsie?"

Aang weakly nodded. "Actually, there's something that worried him more…" He started to walk away, signaling for Sokka to follow. "Have you noticed the heat?"

"Heat?" Sokka muttered sarcastically. "What heat? It's cold enough to freeze you in a second iceberg."

"Bumi thinks it's not normal."

Sokka snorted at that. "If Bumi doesn't think something's normal…" He trailed off quickly, but his tactless joke lingered on the air, awkward and uncomfortable.

"He thinks it might spell trouble," Aang said after a moment, his voice small. "Not just for Omashu, but for everyone."

Sokka wouldn't so quickly agree, but he humored Aang. After all, it had been unusually warm in the South this year. "What does Bumi think is causing it, then?"

Aang shook his head. "He doesn't know. But he suspects there's someone who might."

"And who is that?"

The gray eyes regarding Sokka were stormy and troubled.

"Azula."

A/N: New story which I am, unfortunately, writing as I go. I've got an end in mind, but it's not all mapped out. Which means pairings are totally in the air. As a general pan-shipper myself, I'm certain there'll be enough hints of every ship before I actually decide on anything. Like this chapter had Zuko/Toph and Sokka/Suki (and probably Aang/Sokka or Aang/Bumi -- didn't really plan those, though). Rest assured, some kind of pairing will eventually happen.

I want this to be shorter than my other multi-chapters. Planning for it to be 15 chapters, but I won't be held responsible if it goes longer. It just needs however long it needs to tell the story right.