Aang had originally thought Toph was been acting a bit weird when she asked him not to close their shared window. She would lie, saying she liked the breeze, and Aang would oblige with her wishes. Occasionally she just had nights like that, when all the windows in the house had to be left open for no apparent reason, and Aang eventually stopped asking if she was okay, if she wanted to talk, because the answer was the same every time.
"Go to sleep."
It wasn't a request, a command, or anything in-between. It was merely a tired statement, made by a person of authority when she had too much on her plate. She would wait every night until she thought he was asleep, as he had perfected the slow even breathing by that time, and would quietly slip from their thin mattress on the floor, and walk to the window that lead to the outside balcony.
She would silently lift herself over it, sliding down the wall on the other side, and would get away from the chaos of their lives on the cold stone lanai. She hefted a small sigh, leaning on the outer railing.
It was only when she was really tired, emotionally and mentally, that she would accept that things beyond her grasp of vision really existed.
It was only then that she would acknowledge the moon.
And as if in comfort, the moon would glow brighter on those nights, even if the blind woman couldn't see it.
"Hello Yue," she muttered, gazing into the sky. By some sort of miracle she could pinpoint the moon, every time, with her blind eyes, even when she could barely tell where a person's eyes were on their face. She would ask the same questions, every time, and receive the same answer, silence; but yet she continued to ask the questions, and they continued to comfort her.
"What's life like up there?" she asked, a small sigh escaping her lips. "Some must imagine it would be boring," she mused, "but I think it would be wonderful. To able to see the entire world, to be able to watch over everything and know that all will be well in the end."
"Do you miss it here?" she wondered, and wiggled her toes on the ground. 'Images' of crickets, and grass, and sleeping souls greeted her, and she nodded. "I imagine you would. There are a lot of things here to miss. Sometimes I wish I could just run away, and go somewhere far away where no one would bother me and I would finally have true peace… but then I wonder how much I would regret leaving my family and I swallow it up and stay. A little voice in the back of my head tells me that I'll miss them too much for me to realize yet."
She always pauses at this part, silently wondering if what the voice says is true.
"Yue, I imagine you would know who this voice in my head is, telling me all the things I would have never would have thought on my own. Reminding me of forgotten past and unlearned future. I imagine you would know."
Though this time Toph truly didn't know the answer to her question, and after a period of curious silence she would bow, and mutter a small goodnight. The wind would push her through the window, and she would slowly slide it shut after her. Aang would shut his eyes in a fake slumber, for she could feel when he was watching her, and she would walk over to the other side of the room. She would lean over the side of the crib, stroke the sleeping toddler's face, and then crawl into bed.
And she would feel it, that sense that someone was watching her, but not in the bad way that she was used to. It was a sense of peace, as though someone was watching over her, protecting her, and she would sleep.