Dawn
She'd never been a good sleeper. But this night, the final night that Mai would spend in the same city, the same country as Zuko, was so much worse. Her room seemed to grow smaller and smaller, her breaths more and more ragged, until she feared suffocation and jumped up from her bed, sprinting to the balcony where she drew in gulp after gulp of sweet night air.
The cool stone was a delight against the soles of her feet, the breeze a tonic. Gazing out at the quiet city, Mai's eyes found the palace and then the harbour, and wondered if Zuko was making his way from one to the other. She pictured the thirteen year old prince, angry, ashamed yet somehow still proud, marching from his room, focus searing and straight ahead, determined to have his father's acceptance again, imagining it already, even before his feet left Fire Nation soil.
Mai saw so much so well because she knew Zuko, really knew him. Sure, she talked to Ty Lee more, actual words, mundane sorts of conversations about school or sleepovers with Azula. But her communication with Zuko was different, intense. Glances conveyed worlds. Brief touches cascaded into floods of emotions for both of them. And through the years, their communication was honed to something fine and beautiful, something Mai would miss more than she could ever express. She was heartbroken. And she did not know how she would survive.
"Push it all down...like you always do," Mai whispered to herself.
And that's what she did. No one saw her grief. No one guessed at her pain.
She waited on the balcony as the sun rose, witnessed pinks and oranges saturate the sky. It was beautiful and it didn't matter. Zuko was gone now, his ship out on the ocean, making its relentless way from her. He might never return. He might die on his quest for the Avatar. He might find someone else. Mai pondered that, wondering if she was even his, he even hers. But that was the most ridiculous possibility, wasn't it? They belonged to each other, two broken children, ripped apart. All Mai could do was hope that one day the opportunity would come, a chance to be together again.
As dawn faded and full, brilliant morning arrived, Mai closed her eyes and made a silent wish. It was something Ty Lee with her effortless optimism would do. Mai figured it couldn't hurt. Done, she wandered back into her plush room and crawled under the covers, pressing her angular face into the pillows, forcing back tears.
How many dawns would it take?