Old Bone Comb
It was one of those nights again. The nights when he couldn't stop remembering all the death he had seen, until it all led back to his mother. Sokka loved so many people that had been killed; there was Yue, Suki, and Aang. The war had been the worst in the world, but it was over now, thanks to Aang, and the larger than life price he paid.
And on every one of these nights he would lie awake and thank whatever cruel spirit who chooses who lives or dies that they hadn't taken his sister. Little Katara, she was all he had left. His father had passed on long ago; the war had worn him down. After Aang's death the two siblings came back home for their father's funeral, and home is where they stayed.
Every once in a while Sokka got word of how Lady Bei Fong was doing, he always felt obligated to check up on her. If he could have chosen, he would have gotten Toph to come and visit, but that would only remind Katara of Aang, and Sokka didn't want to hurt his sister any further.
It could get cold in the small igloo they shared. Even with the below freezing temperatures, Katara refused to have a fire lit in their home, just as their mother had. He glanced over at his little sister, she had fallen asleep in a sitting position, hair still braided and looped. For as long as he could remember Katara had fallen asleep that way when something troubled her. She would try to stay awake, but exhaustion would take over, and she would fall asleep in the middle of a blink.
If his mother was still here, she would crawl over to Katara and slowly unbraid her hair, combing through it with gentle care, so not to wake her up, but because his mother perished in the fire Sokka crawled over instead, and he was the one to unbraid her hair and run through it with the bone-carved comb, just as she would hum that old lullaby to him when he couldn't get to sleep. Katara stirred a bit in her sleep, and by the slight upturning of her lips, he could tell she was dreaming of their mother and father, and of Aang.
Katara only ever smiled when she dreamed.
And then he laid her down on the small pallet next to him, and draped a thick quilt over her to try and keep the cold out. After all, this was the coldest night of the year, and they didn't have a fire. For the first time in a while Sokka knew he was going to cry. He was going to sit on the floor like the little lost child he was and bawl his eyes out, until the next day when he would put on his strong face and take care of his sister, because that last piece of her broken heart belonged to him, and he wouldn't dare lose it.
Until then he would cry for Aang, and his father, and Suki, and Yue, then he would cry out for his Mama, because at a time like this he needs her most of all. And when he was done with crying, and ready to sleep he would try to the best of his ability to sing that lullaby for himself, because he didn't have the heart to wake Katara up, or the courage to go to sleep without it.
But none of this would happen in front of the fire. No, never in front of a fire.