Ch 2
Did you know that the gravedigger's still
Gettin' stuck in the machine
Even though it's a whole nuther daydream.
It's another town it's another world,
Where the kids are asleep, where the loans are paid
And the lawns are mowed.
Whad'ya think?
All the gravediggers were gone?
Just cause one song is done
There's always another one
(Regina Spektor, Consequence of Sound)
Zuko and Katara stare together at the broadening, bare-shouldered blue back that recedes from soft twilight into the velvety charcoal darkness inside. Mai should have known better than to expect her brother to chaperone – he hasn't been able to stay away from little Anirik since they lost Suki and the baby, three months ago. Nika – Suki's nickname for the little one- is the only reason he's not a total insomniac. She's also the only reason he still has laugh-lines, the only reason anyone ever glimpses his teeth or his quick wit. And no one understands how unsustainable that is. Everyone except Katara and Zuko seems to make a new pastime of commenting lovingly on how well he's been dealing with this, on how he honors Suki's memory by not letting himself – or his daughter – dwell on revenge.
Aang is thrilled that Sokka now meditates every day, and takes it as a positive sign that father and daughter now avoid meat as if it heralded Suki's so-called tragic demise. Dad goes on at length at how cool-headed, how unselfish, Sokka is showing himself to be in the face of such unimaginable odds. A good leader should never prioritize his pain over that of others', after all. Toph and Ty Lee seem to just be happy that despite the catastrophe he's still a goofball, still alive and kicking and armed with awkwardly witty comebacks.
They all ignore the elephant in the room. Sokka knows as well as Zuko and Katara do that this was no tragic disaster, no attack by ravaging, intent-free beastiality. He doesn't speak of it, but he's always been too bright not to recognize the clear signs of cruel intelligence underlying Suki's death. His pacifism is a ploy, a way of playing dead, of biding his time without endangering his loved ones by exposing them to insider status on his latest master plan. He's choking on intangible bile that no one but Zuko and Katara can sense.
Iroh understands. That's the worst of it, that Iroh – the only one of them who hasn't ruined his own reputation by irrationally pursuing revenge above all else – is encouraging Zuko and Katara to act in accordance with the boy's – when it comes to grief, Sokka will always be a child - ill-formed wishes.
She doesn't care what the old man says, for all his wisdom. She refuses to let her brother self-destruct. That's part of why she's here. She knows what Sokka will ask Zuko for, in time. She needs to beat them both to it.
Zuko turns slowly, shoulders hunching in a helpless gesture. "I don't want to ask why you're here."
"I don't have to tell you right away."
"How's Aang?"
"How do you think?"
"He'll always have some growing-up to do." So diplomatic. She misses his old temper – it excused hers.
"I wish Toph were on my side. When I push him he just pushes right back. Says I'm paranoid."
"Paranoia's saved our lives way too many times. Aang's just in denial – he wants that part of our lives over. He wants the war to be over."
Unjust, that he can see the threads – the chains, rather - connecting current unrest to the war. He couldn't survive if he didn't – he hasn't got Aang's luck or prodigy. Damn Aang for not needing to learn these things.
Because he's never had to, his children will. So will most children of this world he was born to protect.
Zuko has become more perceptive. "Don't give up on him" he half-shouts with his old intensity, and she supposes he could be speaking of either of the most important men in his life.
"I won't," she answers, "but only if you don't let Sokka hunt her."
"Not alone." He promises. "But it's not up to me to let him. You know how clever he is."
"We're clever too. And when it comes to this, he's not thinking straight. I won't let him die. I won't let her take him, too.."
Zuko's eyes cloud over. "If I'd been the son my father wanted, she wouldn't be like this."
The words are torn painfully from his throat. His sister is impossible to love, and nearly impossible to empathize with, and yet his guilt is more tangible than the downy grass they're sitting on.
Katara doesn't interrupt, much as she'd like to. But Zuko doesn't elaborate. Maybe he doesn't need to. It's not so hard to believe that Ozai's love would be more poisonous than his hate. Hate, after all, is entirely honest in its desire to maim.
She doesn't elaborate either, merely uncaps the flask and draws out the water she took from the Oasis on her last visit. Reaches with it for the painful-looking tissue around his eye.
He draws back. "Keep it. She needs it more than I do."
Katara draws it back into the bottle, loss and anger forcing a tremor on her hand.
No matter. Holy water, too, can be used for drowning.