Light On

Summary: As long as this light flickers, I live for you. Tokka, AU, Vietnam war, ANGST

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Toph's lower lip quivered, "Wha—what do you mean?"
He grasped her hand, "Please don't make this harder than it has to be." He whispered, "I've been drafted, it's not like I chose this. You know I love you with all my heart."

A tear ran down her pale cheek and he wiped away with a soft fingertip. She whimpered a little and sucked in a sharp breath. She was embarrassed for him seeing her like this, but it didn't really matter, did it?

Nothing was important anymore. Everything she lived for was leaving.

She buried her head into his chest, and grasped his shirtsleeve, "I love you, Sokka. I … I'm not sure I can live without you. And not having any way of knowing if you're okay or not…"

She trailed off, gasping for air to push the tears back.

Sokka's eyes drifted around the room, landing on an old kerosene lamp. He carried her in his arms across the room and sat down once more. He grabbed the lamp and blew some dust off it.

"See this?" He said. She lifted her head and looked at the lamp.

She nodded, "So?"

He pulled his lighter out of his back pocket. He turned light's switch and watched as the old gas fired back to life. "As long as this light flickers, Toph, I live for you."
She rolled her eyes, "Don't be ridiculous, Sokka. All I have to do is keep feeding the gas."

He smiled goofily, "Exactly."

"Oh…" Toph said slowly.

"You are my life." He kissed her hair, "So this lamp has no reason to go out."

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Sokka was shipped off to the front just months later.

Toph kept feeding the lamp even though she knew it was foolish. She received letters regularly.

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Hakoda heard of Sokka's death first. He wasn't sure if Toph knew or if he could break the news to her over the phone. He figured it would be better in person.

When Sokka's dad arrived at Toph's house, it seemed dark and empty. He roamed the halls calling her name, eventually stumbling upon her bedroom.

In the room lay Toph, motionless. There was an empty bottle of sleeping pills and an unlit kerosene lamp, still full of gas.

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A/N: That was the most morbid thing I've ever written. I love it!

-Mandi (Toruh)

(Story title: Song, "Light On" By David Cook.)