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POT CALLING KETTLE

Chapter Four

The sun sank and Toph's eyelids went with it. She was nearly asleep on his shoulder when the tentflaps rustled, admitting into the shelter two familiar—to Sokka, at least—men. One was short, round, and bearded, his face the sort wherein crinkles had creased the skin at the corners of his eyes—he smiled often and was smiling now too. The other man, tall and broad-shouldered and considerably younger-looking, wasn't smiling at all. Both had fair skin. As Toph sat up a little on the cot, the taller man gestured to himself and asked, "Do you know me?"

"Zuko," murmured the Earthbender. She yawned into Sokka's shoulder and persisted before the tall man could grow too much hope, "Right? Or was Zuko the fat one?"

Iroh chuckled and stepped around his nephew, balancing a cup carefully in his hands. "Indeed, young Toph, that is Zuko. I am the fat one. My name…" He paused, casting out the question as one might throw a line into a still lake.

"It's Iroh." Toph smiled. Without a trace of apology she supplied, "I don't remember either of you, but Sokka's been telling me stuff."

"Has he?" The former general's parchment-colored eyes drifted to Sokka, a mix of speculative and contrite.

"Yep." Toph withdrew her foot from its position on the floor and rested it against the cot's edge, wiggling her toes. Even that small motion came off fatigued. "He has a hard time shutting up. Or that's the impression I'm getting." She tapped a single finger against the tribesman's elbow. "Not that I don't appreciate being filled in."

"It is fortuitous that you have such a good teacher to reeducate you," agreed Iroh. Crouching next to the cot, he offered up the cup he'd brought into the tent. "Whether or not you remember, this is your favorite tea. It has calming properties." In the thicket of his beard Iroh's mouth gave a twitch. "Given the state of affairs today, I thought you might… enjoy it."

Nostrils flared appreciatively, Toph groped for and took the cup. It shook a little in her hands. "Help me steady it," she commanded. Sokka did so, and with a growl of mixed frustration and satisfaction the Earthbender sipped at the hot liquid. Her eyes widened. The growl died—the sip deepened into a gulp. "Shit," she exhaled upon drawing back, "I have good taste!"

"And you were one of my teashop's best customers back in Ba Sing Se." Iroh beamed. "Doubtless you will be again." Rising in a crackle of knees, the old man provided, "I'll send a package of this with your Waterbending friend so you will have a supply on your journey. Good luck, Toph."

"Thanks, geezer dude." Toph performed a wobbly salute with the cup, sloshing a bit of its contents over both her fingers and Sokka's. "You're pretty cool."

"Actually, since he's a Firebender, he'd be considered hot," Sokka interjected.

Brow quirked, Iroh thoughtfully rubbed his chin. "Are you saying you find me attractive, young man?"

Sokka gagged. Toph brayed laughter and sprayed him with tea, and even the silent Zuko managed a feeble smile. With a delicate flourish of a bow, Iroh chuckled and departed the group's company.

Left alone thus with the bruised Earthbender and the equally bruised tribesman, the Fire Lord blurted, "This was—is—my campaign. And this. This." He flung a hand first to Sokka and then toward Toph, at whom the point of his index finger lingered. He swallowed. His throat clinked like the links of a rain-drenched chain. "It's my fault."

"It isn't," protested Sokka. "C'mon man, no. You didn't order those guys to ambush us—"

"Much less flambé us," Toph concurred. She finished the tea in a slurp and dropped the cup next to the cot, where it made a harmless dent in the dirt below.

"They attacked you because they protest my rule." Zuko's face, already skewed by its scar, looked more pained and tormented than usual. The faint crescent of his maimed eye flickered shut and opened again, a sickle moon.

"Yeah, well, that's a stupid thing to protest." Shrugging, Sokka tightened his hold on Toph. She was getting heavier and slumping too; against his collar her head nodded, and her mouth touched his skin. Her lips were still hot from the tea. "This isn't your fault. Or even if you want to believe it is in some twisted way, fine, go for it. I'll bet Toph doesn't blame you for it. Right?"

He shifted his gaze down to Toph. Zuko peered at her as well, savaging his lower lip between his teeth.

"I don't blame anyone or anything except luck," sighed Toph. "Because I guess I don't freaking have any." Reaching up, she ran her fingers carefully over the spot on her skull where the bit of shrapnel had left its mark. The hair there was puffed higher than the surrounding mass, belying her hidden but swollen scalp. She blew out her breath in a hiss and muttered, "I wish people would stop apologizing. At least I'm alive."

Zuko shifted awkwardly. Shuffling from foot to foot like the teenager he no longer was, he allowed, "I'm glad you are alive," and turned to stomp from the tent.

After his footfalls had faded from perception, Toph scowled up at Sokka. "Hey." She prodded his cheek. Her fingers were grubby, insistent. One of her nails scratched through his stubble. "Sheesh. Am I really that screwed up?"

Sokka considered. In the dwindling lamplight she looked the part of the victim, diminished and damaged, and parts of her felt the same. She was leaning on him. Toph never leaned on anyone.

But her knuckles moved against his hip, hard, shameless. She knocked the bone, ratta-tap-tat. The knuckles produced a threatening crack. Her next demand verged on menacing. "Well?"

"You're still you," he replied, and touched her hand. She blinked. "Yeah," he went on, voice thick, "you're still you, Toph, no question."

She groaned. "So what's the problem?"

Sokka took her fingers in his and looked at them, pale on dark, until they blurred. "You're still you without us," he answered. "And you don't seem to—to miss us." He added selfishly, "Me."

Toph gave him a short shove. Lowering herself on her elbows, she eased away from his grasp until she was prone on the cot. She let him keep her hand, though, and grouched back, "Why would I miss you?" Before Sokka's soul could break in half, she squeezed his thumb and said, "You're right here."