A/N

Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays, Happy Thursday?

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Prompt 08: Lullaby

The plane trembled as it pushed off the cement and raised itself into the sky. Zuko sank into his seat, gripping the armrests with white knuckles and a flared nose and clenched eyes. He tried not to think about how, as each second passed, he was farther and farther away from solid land, and the only thing between him and certain death was a giant metal machine with a target on its wings for karma or luck or the universe to strike.

And yet, despite all the signs and gut feelings, there they were, soaring above the clouds.

Zuko felt his breakfast climbing up his throat; even though he gritted his teeth and chanted mantras in his head, he was unable to stifle the growing groan of anguish.

He leaned against the window, hoping for a stable surface, but he shook with every rush of wind and shift of orientation. Morbidly, he mused how his body would look when it hit the ground — no, wait, he'd probably explode with the plane in flames. Maybe if he was lucky, his uncle could get an arm to bury and mourn properly. Hopefully it was his left arm — that was the better arm.

A hand touched his shoulder. "Zuko, are you okay?"

He thought about lying and just toughening through it, but the idea of preserving his pride quickly vanished when he felt the plane tilt and beep and snicker evilly in the rumble of the engine. When he tried to reply, he felt the bile come up and quickly snapped his mouth shut, forcing it back down. Katara must've seen the grimace and movement of his throat, because her hand tightened on his shoulder reassuringly.

"Oh, yeah," Sokka said from the seat behind them. "You've never been on a plane before, huh."

Toph laughed enthusiastically, shaking the seat in front of her; it was Zuko's seat, of course. "Ah, Sparky, this is gonna be a good ride."

Another groan escaped his throat at the horrors she would inflict on him, as if the movement of the plane and the many scenarios of a fiery death wasn't enough.

"Stop shaking his seat," Katara snapped. "He's gonna throw up."

"Pfft. Am I the one sitting next time him?" Toph snickered. "I don't think so."

Silently, he vowed to dump her in the first pool he saw.

"Come on, Zuko," Aang said from beside Katara. "Flying isn't scary. It's really cool and freeing! Birds do it all the time."

Good for them.

"Yeah, they swoop up and down, side to side," Sokka mused, "and loop-de-loop-de-loop, just like roller coasters — "

"Ugghhrhhhhhh…"

"You guys are awful." Katara sighed, but the rest of his friends laughed and he suddenly wondered why they were friends. He felt Toph reach over and ruffle his hair, but he only sank in his seat and thought about the crack of the engine, the nauseating blue of the sky, the gasoline and the flames and the fall, Icarus and his wings of wax, the smell of melting skin and — he leaned forward because suddenly, oh, god, oh, god, here it comes.

Abruptly, there was a rubbing on his back, smooth, small circles; the hand paused and scratched lightly, shifting from the middle of his back to his upper back. Zuko focused on the light pressure; his shoulders slowly relaxed and he peeked out of his good eye, in between his lashes and his arm, at the safety of her leg and how her blue eyes were a different hue than the sky, reminiscent of the hue of the ocean. He thought about the days spent on his uncle's ship, how the waves always rocked him to sleep.

Without another thought, Zuko placed his head in her lap and then slipped his hand under her thigh and looped his other arm around it. She smelled like rose shampoo and detergent. It was soothing. He sighed. She continued rubbing his back, his shoulder; he listened to her breathe, concentrated on the nuances of her shift in body as the air cycled in and out, in time with the hand on his back — circle, circle, scratch, circle, circle, scratch — and the fingers combing through his hair.

Aang cleared his throat and groaned suddenly. "Hey, you know, Katara, I don't feel really good either…"

Zuko tightened his grip onto her leg. He thought he heard her snort, but if it was at his action or at Aang's words, he didn't know.

"Oh? That's weird," she said. "You're normally really good with planes."

"Yeah, ugh, I don't know," he moaned. "The take-off was shakier than usual."

"Well, maybe you can trade places with Sokka and borrow Suki's lap."

"What?" Sokka exclaimed. "My Suki! Get your own, Aang."

"Sokka…" Suki said, but she sounded pleased, if not amused, at his reaction.

"Come on, Twinkles," Toph said, trying to stifle a laugh but failing miserably as each word was underlined with a snigger. "I'll help you get through your motion sickness."

"…No thanks… I think I feel a little better now."

Zuko relaxed, hearing Aang slump in his seat.

She tugged his ear and then brushed strands behind it. He sank into a light sleep, listening to her breathe over the chattering of the people and the machinery, and dreamt of arctic seals in blue oceans, of soft kisses and brown tresses, of a golden-dusted angel saving a falling Icarus, of his uncle and broken family, of his friends, of Katara.