4.

Finally, when she comes stumbling through the door, half exhausted, half sober, she expects to find a quiet, empty apartment. What she's greeted with instead is a very light presence, the kind she struggles to notice until it's far too late – although her seismic senses are well attuned, Aang still manages to avoid her detection.

Toph blinks. She's confused to say the least. Did she and Aang agree to meet at her place later this evening? Before she can let a word out, Aang steps forward and says: 'Sorry – I thought you'd be home, and the door was unlocked.'

'Shit,' Toph mutters. She shrugs off her coat. 'What're you doing here?'

'I couldn't sleep.'

'Huh. What am I supposed to do? Rock you to sleep? Sing you a lullaby?' She nearly falls into the wall, quietly cursing her lack of sobriety. It was probably a silly mistake to drink after work. Toph will never admit to the fact she's a real lightweight. But for Aang to witness her unable to hold down her liquor, it's more than embarrassing.

Of course, he catches on quickly. 'Are you drunk?'

'No,' Toph snaps. 'Never you mind.'

'Look, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to intrude. I actually thought you might be home earlier.'

'I fell asleep at the office,' she says, deciding to lean most of her weight against the wall. That way, at least, she won't risk tripping over. Pride be damned. 'On my way back, I decided to have a drink or two. Big fucking deal. Who are you, my mother?'

Aang looks away. True, he couldn't sleep. In fact sleeping has been a hazard lately, because whenever he does sleep, it's always an unkind experience. The dreams he suffers from – what might as well be named nightmares. He doesn't know why he pursued Toph. There's something about her blunt manner which helps him get a grip of himself, but it was her company he generally needed.

Being a close friend, he didn't feel there was anything wrong with letting himself inside. Aang thinks he probably took that for granted, though. Toph may be close to him, but she's not like his other friends. Other friends would welcome him with open arms. Toph, on the other hand, would do the very opposite. It doesn't matter if Aang is her friend. The fact is, he entered her home without her consent, without her knowing.

'So,' she says, 'What do you want?'

'I'll go if you prefer.'

'No, I–' Toph groans. She sinks further into the wall, closing her eyes. 'I don't care, okay?'

'Are you all right?'

This question takes her by surprise.

She can't actually recall the last time somebody asked about her wellbeing. People have always assumed Toph is fine. She doesn't have any problems. She's confident, she's fierce, she's powerful, so, naturally, she'll always be all right. The fact Aang goes through the effort to make sure. The fact he might have noticed the slightest thing wrong with her, and had to be certain she was okay. It's unusual for her, and his concern makes her feel uneasy.

'Trouble sleeping, eh?'

Aang frowns. She's avoided the question, and he doesn't like that. 'Yeah,' he replies.

'So, you thought the most logical action would be to disturb me? Aw, thanks, Aang.'

'Of course not. I knew you wouldn't be asleep. Besides, when I saw the door was unlocked, and you weren't in, I… wanted to wait for you.'

She pinches the bridge of her nose, scrunching her eyes shut. 'If you expect me to comfort you in any way–'

'Please don't. That's actually one of the reasons why I wanted to see you.' He pauses. 'Can we talk?'

Toph refuses to move from the wall. She can sense him about a metre away, can feel his pulse, the tension in his shoulders. Whatever he wants to discuss, it's important, and she has a horrible feeling it'll be important for her as well.

'Go on, then,' she breathes.

Neither move. Aang decides not to beat around the bush, and his voice comes out uncharastically dull: 'I lied. I can sleep, and, for a while now, sleep has been so–' restless, exhausting, everything but what sleep should be, '–tiring. I keep seeing the same things, the same people. Sometimes, they're different people, but what happens to them is always the same. I didn't want to see you because I can't sleep. I'm here because I hoped…'

She tilts her head, frowning. Aang inhales, and shrugs.

'... I hoped I was right.' She doesn't say anything. Aang takes a step forward, softening his tone. 'That you may be enduring the same problem?'

There's a long silence, and, then, to his disappointment, Toph bursts out laughing. 'The only problem I have right now is you. I'm fucking exhausted, Twinkletoes.' She straightens, pressing a hand to the wall in order to maintain her balance. 'I sleep just fine. Perfectly, even. I'd be sleeping right now if you'd get out of my way. Or, get out even.'

'I'm wrong?'

'Wouldn't be the first time,' she says quietly.

She won't tell him. She won't tell him he's probably right. Probably. But it's a coincidence. Whatever Aang dreams about has absolutely nothing to do with what she dreams about. In fact, the very idea that they might be going through the same trauma–

Gently, Aang takes her wrist, stopping her from walking past him.

'The first time I saw you, it was in a vision–'

'Shut up.'

'And I had met you before. From somewhere, in another lifetime. I knew you.'

She yanks her wrist out of his grip. Clenches her fists, struggles to find the right words, because he is stepping into dangerous territory and she's too tired and too intoxicated to handle this at the moment. Aang waits, helpless, and his heart sinks to the pit of his stomach. Denying him, refusing to talk, she couldn't make it any more obvious that she's aware.

Lowering his head, he braces himself. 'You knew me too, right?'

'No,' she insists. But she answers too quickly, and her guard is shattered. 'Fuck,' she whispers under her breath.

'I'm right, aren't I?' Aang's heart is in his mouth. He is right. They share a connection neither have dared delve into until now, and surely it's their responsibility to, at least, talk about it. 'Please. I'm asking. As a friend. That's all.'

'I have no idea what you're babbling on about.'

'Yes, you do!'

Toph gasps when Aang roughly grabs her arms, turns her towards him, and his voice is pitched with desperation. He has to know. Aang needs her to be honest with him. Because if she's been having the same dreams as he, then–

… but, Aang doesn't know then. If Toph won't talk to him, he can't force her. And if Toph does talk to him, what happens afterwards?

He exhales slowly. 'Sorry. I'm–' he looks at her, and he falls apart, '–I'm scaring you.'

'What do you want?'

'I just want you to be honest with me, for once.'

Toph allows those words to sink in. She wants to hate him for doing this to her. For forcing her to talk, for grabbing her, for realising that, yes, he is scaring her. Aang rarely loses his temper. And to not see him, his expression, the pain in his eyes, how much he is pleading with her to cooperate, and just tell him the truth.

As his hands fall, it feels like a surrender. Like him giving up.

It terrifies her.

'You're right,' she says, and he freezes. Widens his eyes, holds his breath. 'You happy now?'

'Not really,' he whispers.

'I didn't have visions like you did, and I didn't know you immediately. It was briefly after the war when I started to, I don't know, figure things out. I started to have these dreams where I could see, but all I was allowed to see were–' faces. She grows conscious of the fact she's revealing too much for her to feel comfortable with. And, just like that, she shuts down. 'Forget about it. I never thought they meant anything. Just side effects after what happened. We all had bad dreams after the war. Mine are nothing special.'

'You saw him, didn't you? The face stealer?'

Toph shudders. That is what she sees, then. This monster, who possesses all of these faces, staring back at her, smiling, crying, screaming for help. 'I don't know.'

'I met him when I was younger. I haven't seen him since, and I forgot about him for some time. What with being focussed on other things. Recently, I've started to have visions of him, and not just of him, but a woman who used to mean everything to me.' Toph looks at him oddly. 'From another lifetime. A predecessor of mine.'

'What does she look like?'

'She's young. Brown, long hair. Dark eyes. Smiling a lot of the time. I don't really remember much of her, but I was once in love with her. We were going to be married actually, but it never happened. As punishment for my arrogance, her face was stolen, and she was taken to the Spirit World, and I never saw her again. I, once, tried to save her, but in order to kill the face stealer, I would also have to kill her as well. We were torn from each other.'

Toph takes in the story, but admittedly can't relate to any of it. Which is somewhat comforting. 'You say you've met this thing, then?'

'Mhmm. His name his Koh. Despite Avatar Kuruk's previous actions, he held no grudges against me. We did meet again after Azula had nearly killed me with lightning. That time around, he attempted to steal my face, but failed. I haven't seen him since, except in my dreams. And, I don't intend to. He gave me the creeps.'

'Oh,' she murmurs. Toph folds her arms. 'I recognise the woman you're talking about.' Aang raises a brow, heart skipping. 'I dream about her frequently, and it's annoying. In the same dreams, I'm so desperate not to have my face taken away, I–' she hesitates, wondering whether to be this graphic in front of Aang, but what difference would it make? He should know. 'I rip out my eyes with a knife, so I can't see him.'

'Toph…'

'Each time, he says I've learnt from my past mistakes, whatever that means.'

There's a horrible tension filling the room. It feels like a wall, slowly closing in on her lungs, suffocating her. She can feel his eyes on her. His breath, soft, like feathers, scattered across her cheek. Somewhere along the way, he placed a hand on her shoulder, watching her intently. Listening, and understanding, and knowing exactly what she's referring to.

'Aang?'

'Yeah?'

'It's all bullshit.'

He chuckles, nervous. 'I have to agree with you there. But, I learnt that it is possible for friendships to transcend lifetimes – there's no reason to believe that the same thing hasn't happened to us.'

'Maybe. Maybe not. It doesn't matter.'

'It matters to me. There's a reason you keep seeing her.'

'There's not. I probably see her because I spend too much time around you.'

He raises a brow. Sighs. Toph is running away from the topic, because she won't admit there's some truth behind it. This is demanding too much from her. This is demanding a great deal of emotion, the will to entertain the possibility that, maybe, she and Aang were fated to meet. That they, a long time ago, had met before.

'I saw you,' Aang says. 'That matters to me, anyway.'

And that's the final word. Unwilling to talk about this further, Toph turns away from him. 'You can stay the night,' she offers, and the reluctance is almost bitter. Aang doesn't say another word, folds his arms, and lets Toph walk away.

Once the door closes behind her, he falls back against the wall. Neither will sleep a wink that night.

.

.

.

Aang takes the liberty to prepare breakfast the following morning. Which is virtually foreign to Toph, who has a nasty habit to forget about breakfast altogether. Her shift starts in a couple of hours, and while she dresses into her uniform, she can hear him cheerfully cooking away. Only Aang would feel comfortable enough to make a meal in Toph's home – especially without invitation. She has half the mind to knock him over the head for it.

Stepping into the next room, she approaches him; he has his back faced to her, manipulating fire under a bowl, and stirring what smells like a stew of some kind. 'Hey,' he says. Aang turns to smile at her. 'Did you sleep well?'

'Yeah,' she lies. 'What're you doing?'

'Making breakfast. You don't mind, do you?'

The desire to say yes is excruciating, but she can't blame him for his generosity. 'What is it?'

'My own recipe. I went out and bought a few vegetables, some pepper, stuff like that. You'll like this one, I promise. It's healthy.'

'Urgh.' She grabs her coat, and shoves it on. 'You can save me a little, I guess.'

'I'm not saving you anything. You should eat, Toph.'

'You're starting to sound like Katara, and that's not a good thing.'

He laughs. 'I can think of worse things to be like.' He hovers over the topic for a second, then hurriedly asks, 'How are you?'

'Fine. You?'

'Yeah.'

'Great,' she mutters. 'You gonna be here for much longer?'

'I'll leave today. In fact, I'm planning to leave for a while.'

'Good. You're becoming a nuisance, latching onto me like this.' Accustomed to her charming words, Aang doesn't take it personally. Instead, he returns to the breakfast, which is about ready to be poured out. Toph lingers in the doorway. She's relieved he'll be gone – after all, she has missed her own company. But, for some reason, she isn't as over the moon as usual. 'How long is a while?'

'A few months. Probably a year.'

'... oh.'

'Don't worry. I'll be visiting Republic City often. I just–' he lowers the bowl. 'I've been thinking a lot about our discussion from last night. Maybe being around each other isn't the best thing right now. Besides, I'm in your way with your work, and there's so much more for me to discover out there. I spent a great deal of time trying to defeat Ozai, and then recovering from defeating Ozai, that I never took a step back from it all. Do you follow me?'

'Right. You're leaving because of me?'

'Not just you.'

'Whatever. Do what you want, Aang.'

'Have I made you angry?'

'You see, this is why I didn't want to talk about what we discussed last night. This is what you do. Run away from everything.'

That hurts. Aang allows the sting to spread in his chest, rattle in his stomach; pinch. 'I'm not running away. I'm moving on. There's a difference, Toph.'

'Is there?' She sneers. 'Well. It's cute you got that option, Twinkletoes. I'm happy for ya.'

'You don't have to be rude. Anyway, you're the one who's complained about my being here.'

'Didn't realise you were that sensitive.'

'Look, I'm not going to argue.' Aang forgets about the breakfast. 'Especially this early in the morning.' It does feel he's spent more time arguing with Toph than anything else, though. Trying his hardest to push past that tough exterior of hers. 'But you can't have it both ways. You can't get rid of me, and then ask me to stay.'

'I'm doing neither,' she folds her arms, stubborn. Irritated. Losing. 'This is your decision entirely. I don't give a fuck about what you do.' She pauses, because he's right: they can't argue. She won't argue. She needs to calm down, sort out her thoughts. There isn't any reason for her to get angry. If Aang wants to move on, then good for him. Katara is moving on, Zuko is moving on, Sokka too, now Aang – how lovely. 'Do what you want.'

This is not how he expected thing to go. Aang won't deny he's upset. Suddenly, he's lost his appetite, and Toph's attitude towards this whole situation is so confusing and hurtful. 'Unless,' he starts, daring himself. 'Unless you'd rather I didn't…?'

'I don't rather anything. I–I think it's a good decision. Doing what you want to do; and, yeah, I think you're right: time apart would be healthy.'

'Really?' Aang's expression falls. 'You think that?'

'I think…' I think you make me feel more than I ever wish to feel. 'I think if you hang around me much longer, I'll burst a blood vessel – that's how much you annoy me.'

'Oh. Okay.'

When he walks past her, his footsteps are heavier, more rushed. She could always register his presence because it was so light, vibrant, happy. Aang walks as if his feet were mere feathers. He walks elegantly, without any weight on his shoulders, hence the nickname she gave him. But now? Now he walks as if a huge mountain of stone has been strapped to his back.

As if the wind has been whipped from beneath his feet, and he's been grounded.

His emotions weigh him down, like a ton. The amount of anger, pain, betrayal, loss flooding through him has destroyed his balance. And Toph has done that, singlehandedly, and it is, by far, the worst thing she has ever done.

'I'll leave you alone.'

Aang grabs his outer shawl.

'Sounds like a plan,' Toph mutters. 'Where're you gonna go?'

He stops. Turns to her, 'Don't pretend you care – you've made it perfectly clear that you don't.'

What Aang does next is a mistake. He doesn't leave. Not immediately.

Aang towers over her. And it stuns them both into place, just how tall he is, just how much power he truly has over her; that if he wished, he could blind her – completely. That this man, this friend, is indeed the Avatar, and he could hurt her. In many ways, he's simply taken Toph's company for granted. She is easily the best Earthbender to ever exist, but–

It isn't just her petiteness which makes her fragile, and the fact she is, the fact she is completely and utterly defenceless against him, terrifies Aang beyond words.

Turning people away, being rude, being critical and horrible, it's a defence mechanism. An armour she's had to wear since childhood. It's all she knows. Her parents didn't teach her any social skills; they hid her for as long as they could, as if she were something to be ashamed of. Her blindness – that was shameful.

Until Aang tried ever so desperately to steal her for himself.

Selfish, he reaches for her, 'I'm sorry,' and she doesn't fight him, doesn't push him back, when he tries to kiss her.

He stops. Suddenly, Aang stops, his lips a mere inch from hers. He's already overwhelmed by the close proximity between them, what he will undoubtedly feel if he dares move a little closer; what she will make him feel. It's already there, blurring his vision, making his heart squeeze, and his knees to snap beneath him.

It is her silence which makes him tremble. He needs her to say something. He needs her to do something. He needs her. He has needed her since the very beginning, and it's just so unforgivable of him to not realise–

'How sorry are you?'

Aang can barely recognise her voice, let alone his own.

He breathes across her lips, closing his eyes. We've done this before. 'More than you'll ever know.'

One of them scoots a little closer. Because it's too late to fall back now. They've waited too long to change their mind. Aang, almost protectively, possessively, wraps an arm around her waist, drawing her into him. She can feel his heart, pounding, thumping, heavy on her breast, and his breath is warm, rushing across her cheek.

She touches his face, the stubble across his chin, around his mouth. The wound from the metal cable, sore and rough beneath her fingertips. Aang sighs, content, eyes still closed. He wants her to touch him, know him, understand him – but a part of him wonders, doesn't she already? Was their discussion last night as delusional as Toph insisted it to be, or does she believe there's plausibility behind it? Does she believe him?

Then she passes her thumb over his lips. They feel smooth, soft, inviting, and he reacts, inching only slightly closer.

It isn't a kiss, but a touch; their noses bump, and she feels cool against his body, so small and, yet, steady. That is when he clings onto her, arm still around her waist, the other hand passing her cheek. She has more balance than he; she always has. She's his anchor, and he depends on her more than ever now, to keep him held.

'Aang.'

The name sends a wave of panic through him. Only briefly, he opens his eyes, just to look at her, and his eyes drop to her lips. He swallows, thinking he might kiss her. When Toph starts to retreat her hand from his face, when she's foolish to enough to abandon him at his most vulnerable, Aang is certain he is going to kiss her.

'Aang, there's somebody at the door.'

'... what…?'

'Let me go.'

Then, he is thrown back to reality. Aang blinks his eyes open. Sure enough, there's a knock at the door, and he releases Toph at once. The sudden absence leaves them both in a state of shock. Toph has never been so intimate with another person before, and she has no other choice than to shove the incident right into the far reaches of her memory.

Aang isn't as strong. He stands, catching his breath, trying to control himself, while Toph approaches the door. When she opens it, Aang sees what looks like a military gentleman. 'Are you Toph Beifong?' He asks.

'Yeah, what d'you want?'

'This is for you,' and he offers her a sealed envelope.

Toph accepts, and closes the door. Aang frowns. A letter. How bizarre. Anybody who knows Toph would have the intelligence to not send her a letter. She can't read it! Irritated somebody could be so stupid, Aang kindly offers to read it.

He opens out his palm, ready. But it's as if Toph hasn't heard him. She stares blankly, her fingertips brushing across what looks like a stamp over the envelope.

It occurs to Aang that there is nothing to read. Whatever is stamped, Toph can feel and interpret the symbol, and clearly that symbol means something. Because she eventually passes him the envelope, a look of mild annoyance and defeat on her face.

Aang recognises the Flying Boar, the Beifong emblem. What strikes him odd is the fact a line has been swiped through the boar. Glancing at Toph, he has a horrible feeling this only means bad news: 'What's wrong?'

'It means a close relative has died. I just need to find out if it's either my mother or father.'

He widens his eyes. 'Oh, I'm… sorry.'

'Don't be yet. I have to find out who it is first.'

Letter still in hand, Aang follows Toph towards the door. 'Where are you going?'

'Where do you think?' She opens the door, an invitation for him to follow. 'I'm going home.'

Abandoning their breakfast, and everything that just happened between them, Aang shoves the envelope into his pocket, one step behind her.