Zuko awoke to the pattering noise of rain on the roof. He sat up and looked around. Azah must have gotten up already. He got out of bed, flinching as his bare feet touched the cold planks of the floor.

The teapot was full of water and hanging over a fire to heat. Zuko spotted a scrap of parchment sticking out from under one of the teacups. He pulled it out and unfolded it.

Making a run to the market for today's meal supplies. —Azah

Fair enough. Zuko lifted the teapot from its frame and poured himself a cup. He took it out to the parlor and picked up a scroll from the satchel of its fellows, settling on the comfortable couch to read.

This wasn't one of his. The title at the top read "If You Wish It: a comedic drama by playwright Kaijan Lee." Zuko skimmed the script, vaguely interested by the farcical plot and its twists and turns through the love lives of noble military families and humble koala shepherds. The entire thing was annotated in Azah's uncharacteristically neat, tiny calligraphy. He felt a twinge of discomfort at seeing something so personal as some of her notes by the more profound lines. The script was quickly rolled up and placed back into the bag. Seeing now that several other scrolls shared with it a pink ribbon tied in a bow around one end, Zuko was able to distinguish his own scrolls from those of his wife, and he selected one of the unmarked ones to read.

He had made it to the part of the Hira'an history describing a terrible volcanic eruption that destroyed half the town when he finally set down the scroll and his tea and stood up to begin pacing. He glanced out the window. There was no sign of Azah.

How could a single errand last so long?

Zuko had just about resolved to go out and look for her when he caught sight of his wife walking—no, skipping—down the path through the rain.

Azah's hair and dress were plastered to her skin. She wasn't wearing shoes. As she neared the house, she looked around surreptitiously, set her covered basket under the overhang of the porch roof, and backed up into the rain once more. She threw her head back, held her arms out, and closed her eyes, blissfully standing still in the midst of the downpour.

Zuko had the strong feeling that he was seeing something even more personal than her script notes. He instinctively tried to avert his eyes, but then she began to dance, and he couldn't tear them away for all the world.

It started with a single twirl. Water droplets sprayed out from her hair and the hem of her dress in an expanding circle and stopped as abruptly as they had started when she stopped, the momentum of cloth and hair twisting around her frame. Azah laughed, then, light and lilting. Her eyes still closed, she made a bow to an imaginary partner—a flamboyant, dramatic bow rather than the tightly wound bow traditional to the Fire Nation—and held out her hand to the nonexistent individual. She began walking a wide circuit around the spot, occasionally switching directions, hand still held in the same place midair. Then she pulled away into another bow and gave a little twirl. She spun again, this time without stopping, faster and faster, arms above her head until the force of motion pushed them down and out from her body, water droplets spraying out and colliding with the falling rain, until she finally slowed to a stop, face flushed, chest heaving, and opened her eyes.

Zuko stepped away from the window and hurried back to the couch, hastily picking up his scroll and tea once more. It was another minute before Azah stepped through the door with her basket in hand.

"Good morning!" she chirped. "Did you sleep well?"

He nodded, not trusting his own voice to function properly. He felt as though he had intruded on something sacred, as though he had seen deeper into Azah's life than he was meant to, married or not.

His wife faltered. She looked at him in confusion. "Are you all right, my lord? You look… sick."

"'M fine. Just a… dizzy spell." Hastily, he changed the subject by gesturing toward the bag of scrolls. "So, uh, what's all that?"

"The scrolls? I thought that I marked all of mine with ribbons to prevent confusion—did I miss some?"

"Uh… no. I was just curious as to what they're all about."

"Oh! Hang on. I'm going to get breakfast started, and then I'll show you."

Oh, boy. At least the questions had stopped.

"I got the flint and steel I needed yesterday," she called from the kitchen, "so the cooking will go a little easier, now that I don't need help lighting the fire."

"Great."

He heard the sound of water striking metal and the hissing of rapid evaporation. After a few minutes, Azah stepped back out with a plate of steamed buns, the teapot, and her own cup. She set it on the table and sat down, this time beside Zuko. Her clothes and hair still appeared somewhat damp, but they were no longer soaked through and dripping. She pulled a woolen blanket from the back of the couch and wrapped it around her shoulders before picking up one of the marked scrolls.

"Most of these are scripts from my personal collection of favorites. This one—" —she opened it up— "—is probably my favorite of them: A Tempest in a Teapot. It's one of Kaijan Lee's comedies." She pointed to a section of her writing next to one line. "I've developed a habit of annotating all of my favorite bits. This part, where Admiral Jai offers to marry Lady Kaorin and she declines, can be taken so many different ways. I spent an entire rehearsal debating it with the actor cast as Jai." Azah heaved a sigh, one corner of her mouth twitching up wryly. "Anyway, that's what these all are. They're mostly by Kaijan, but there are a few others."

Zuko nodded, mouth full of bread and sweetened chicken-pork. She took a bun and delicately tore it in half before taking a bite. They spent a few minutes eating in surprisingly comfortable silence.

Of course, it couldn't last.

"So, what do you want to do today?" she asked brightly. "Interested in any indoor activities?"

He shrugged.

"Did your family keep any games here?"

"Uh… I think there might be a Pai Sho set in storage."

"Do you play?"

He nodded.

"Great! That ought to keep us occupied for an hour or two."

Hey, everybody, hope your year is off to a good middle! I forgot to add an Author's Note when I put this chapter up the first time, sorry. So anyway: life is really good, and I don't plan on disappearing on y'all again, at least not for a while.

That said, I only have one more chapter drafted so far, and then it's back to the outline. I have a lot of other writing projects that need attention, not to mention school and work. So I'm sorry about that, but chapter's won't be getting more frequent for a while. I'll be trying to get another chapter or two drafted before the next one goes up, just to give myself more breathing room.

I appreciate all of your critiques and compliments! Thank you so much for those; they really keep me motivated on this story.

God bless,

Liz