Chapter 21

"Three days," answered Hakoda quietly, weary, and had it not been for Sokka's quick reflexes the man would have died a violent death when Zuko's hands wrapped around his aged, wrinkled throat.

The room exploded with noise and shouting, scraping chairs and after a moment even a soft-toned alarm that rang in the halls alerting the staff to a request for security's intervention. In a flash Suki had marched the children to the door and ordered them to Stay Put Or Else before she rushed back in and backed-up a very red-faced, straining Sokka.

"Like Hell three days!" Zuko shouted even as Sokka and another medic pried him away from the Tribe's leader, his glare murderous and less than sane. "Have you no faith in her?! She just needs more ti-"

"She's had time!" cried Hakoda, his deep voice cracking in misery. "She's been here for a month, your Highness, and has next to no response following every stimuli they could think of. Including the experts you so graciously provided for her assistance," he added with fraying control. It was the most vicious Zuko had ever seen the firm, but fair, man, and if he'd been less personally involved he may have heard the pain behind it that so matched his own.

But instead, all he heard was someone telling him his Katara had less than three days left to live before her father and brother would remove her life support systems.

"She's still healing; she isn't ready to wake up yet!" Zuko lunged forward, but Sokka and Suki held fast, and the security staff finally arrived outside the door—closely followed by Zuko's mother, who had remained to support Zuko. He'd refused to leave until Katara regained consciousness.

"Zuko, darling, please calm down, let's talk about this," she began as soothingly as she could, entering their space and reaching out for him.

"No, I will not calm down—why can't you see it? She's exhausted—she was exhausted from all her stupidly compounding responsibilities before I even arrived. Her body is healing from being so run-down, and then the hypothermia exacerbated it! Don't you get it!? She needs a recovery from you and everything you piled onto her!"

"Zuko, that's enough!" his mother rose defiantly before him, and grabbed his chin, forcing him to look into her deep, currently fierce, amber eyes. A smouldering fire met his gaze, and he felt himself momentarily stunned.

"But—"

"Now, you listen to me, young man," she began. She was calm, but very, very unimpressed with her son's behaviour. Her grip tightened on his chin when he started to turn away from her to renew his battle with the Kuruks.

"This family is losing their only daughter, their only sister. She went out there to save you; I know you want to return that favour. She went out there to make up for the completely tasteless, inappropriate treatment her village had inflicted upon you; you want her to see that she didn't do it in vain. And most of all, her family want to see that happen, too. But do you have any idea what they are going through right now? They know it is their fault she went out there. They feel the most soul-shattering guilt because they know it is, in part, because of them that she's here in this condition. No, stop it, I know what you're about to say, Zuko, and you've already said it so it doesn't bear repeating. Listen to me, now," Ursa intoned meaningfully, still holding his frustrated gaze.

Breathing harshly as his throat constricted, Zuko clenched his teeth and bit his tongue, breath blowing out harshly between his teeth in an agonised wheeze.

His mother's grip softened somewhat, gradually, until she was finally holding his face her in hands. She tipped her head forward until it gently met his, third eye to third eye.

"Zuko, you aren't the only one in pain. You aren't the only one who feels guilt. You aren't the only one who is going to miss her. Do you think this is what she would want, if she was here now and knew she only had a few days left? Or would she want to see that you were happy? That you wanted to cherish the time you had left with her? That, above all, you love her?" she said in a hoarse whisper, her eyes crinkling as wetness built in them, a bright sheen. Her maternal instincts had gone out to him, and to Katara's family, when they'd learned the truth, and she couldn't help seeing the situation from multiple emotional, tragic angles.

"You need to learn to share, darling, and you need to learn to let go; she made her decision to not give up that night. And honey, I respect you so much for fighting for her and refusing to let her go now," Ursa said in a trembling voice as she saw Zuko's face crumbling as he struggled to keep his breathing even.

"But darling, if she doesn't come back, if she can't wake up, we can't make her stay. Not like this. This isn't what she wants. Her father and brother have shown you her living will; they need to abide by it. We need to respect her decision. I know it's hard; it's the hardest thing you'll ever have to do, I swear, but you need to do it. Especially for her. Accepting another's decision like this is the ultimate form of love, because they need to trust in you so much to carry it out in their stead when they are unable to tell you or do it themselves. Don't betray that trust, Zuko. Don't fight in front of her like this. She wanted you to be safe; she didn't want you to be trapped out there in the cold, alone, incapacitated. This is what she wants now; we can't selfishly keep her trapped here just because we can't let go of her, ok? Do you understand what I'm saying?"

Ursa released her grip on her son's cheeks lightly, to give him a moment to compose himself, and let her own tears fall unashamed. Queen she may be, but mother was she first.

It was a tense time as they watched Zuko struggling, and eventually he rubbed his hands over his face and took a few deep breaths.

"One week," Zuko requested respectfully, turning his red-rimmed, sunken eyes on the man who, at another time, may have become his father in law. "Please. Sir. One week. I stayed away for ten years. Could I please request one week?"

"Zuko," admonished his mother softly, but Hakoda held up a hand, eyeing the young man with a measuring gaze.

"A question, do I have your word that you will not interfere… when the time comes?"

The men regarded each other. Leader, future ruler; father, son.

Seeing her son vibrating with his emotions, Ursa reached for Zuko's hand and squeezed.

A week isn't enough. It will never be enough. What can I do in a week for her?

Then Zuko looked over at the unmoving woman in the hospital bed; and every moment they'd spent together, from her arrival on his doorstep, their time skating, the special events, and the one night they spent together in peace, in each other's arms, away from their responsibilities flashed in his mind.

She had never given up on him.

Zuko made up his mind in that moment.

"Yes."

"Then one week," agreed Hakoda solemnly.