disclaimer: disclaimed.
dedication: to the long quiet hours at the cabin with the most awkward family ever
notes: I'm so close to being done I can taste it

chapter title: ships in the night
summary: Zuko, Katara, and life after the war. — Zuko/Katara, others.

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"Sifu, the air doesn't feel right."

"Spirits, Twinkles, get your feet on the ground, you feel like you're about to fly off into space."

Aang settled as Toph pressed a shoulder against his side. They were sweaty and heaving, had been training for hours, when Aang had abruptly stopped. He'd frozen still as a trapped rabbitsquirrel, eyes blank and unseeing, and Toph knocked him on his ass for his loss of concentration. She'd reached down to help him up, but instead he'd pulled her down next to him, his long fingers wrapped around hers tight and white-knuckled.

They sat there together for a while, Aang breathing tightly into her shoulder until the tremors in his limbs began to cease.

"Hey," she said at last, quiet. "You okay?"

"I don't—I don't know," he gulped. "It, uh, it feels like—like—I dunno. It just feels… wrong."

"Oi," Toph said, voice still quiet. "Is this an Avatar thing? Because if it's an Avatar thing, quit it. You know how much I hate it when you get nutty over nothin'."

"But Toph—"

"Sifu Toph," she interrupted, pleasantly.

"Sifu Toph," Aang sighed, "what if it's bad?"

"Then we'll deal with it when it comes," Toph said. She let herself fall backwards, arms askew at odd angles against the dirt. "Like we always do. You got nothin' to worry about, Twinkletoes. You an' me an' Sparky an' Sweetness, we'll take care of it."

"Like always," Aang echoed, and Toph thought she could hear some of her dumbass, lighthearted friend in his voice. It wasn't often he was there, anymore—and honestly, she wasn't surprised.

Being the Avatar was a heavy burden.

Aang didn't seem to take it seriously, but Toph knew him better than that. So instead of saying anything else, she punched him in the ribs, and snickered at the sound he made. It wasn't enough to wind him, or even hurt him really. It was affectionate—her type of affectionate—and that was what mattered.

Aang grumbled, but flopped down next to her, anyway.

The sky swirled above them. It was a deep dark emptiness, as far as Toph could tell, but Aang wasn't wrong. There was something almost… electric in the air, edged in anger, tasted of blood. There was only one name for it that Toph could think of, and that was vengeance.

Aang clung to her, and for a reason that she didn't want to think about, she let him.

(Sokka was never going to love her the way she wanted to be loved—Sokka loved Suki, and that wasn't about to change. Toph had come to that conclusion and it hurt, maybe was always going to hurt, but for now it was okay. For now it was okay.)

"C'mon, Twinkles," she said, voice rough and slow. "Get up, we're gonna be fine. Your grounding needs work."

She pushed off and up, shooting upwards into the sky with a shout of laughter. The earth arced after her,

Aang sighed. If nothing else, he could always count on Toph to be practical. Some things never changed, and this was one of them. The sky was blue, Katara was his forever girl, and Toph would never let him mope.

He was grateful, for that.

Drenched and laughing, they were—Ran Shao had blossomed under the gentle fall of water that had followed the Fire Lord and Master Katara as they'd walked the streets, sweet clean rain filling up tubs and buckets and even potholes in the roads. The people followed them, too, hands out to catch droplets more precious than gold.

(They'd avoided a riot with the fabricated rain. Katara had no idea how long the tenuous peace wouold last.)

Zuko and Katara slipped back into the palace under the cover of late evening, the stars twinkling brightly into a hazy lavender dusk as the sun settled far behind the horizon.

There was always a rush; the comings and goings of the court were most pleasant this time of day, when everyone was full from supper and sleepy-warm with contentment of the thought of home. The two of them walked slowly, enjoying the cooling violet air, hands brushing with every step.

Katara raised her face to the sky, breathing deeply. The world shivered with promise—although, given the way that two of their errant family appeared out of nowhere to stare them in the face, it might not have been the promise of anything good. Toph's arms were crossed over her chest, and Aang's mouth pulled down at the sight of how close she and Zuko stood together.

It took conscious effort on Katara's part not to move away.

"Where have you been, Sugarqueen?" Toph demanded. "World's falling to pieces, and you and Sparky are out for a stroll?"

"We," and she emphasized the we, she and Zuko, Zuko and she, "were out getting water to people. What's up?"

Toph didn't shrink at what could have been construed as a reprimand; Katara wasn't surprised. Even before Bumi had given her the ability to do essentially whatever she wanted, nothing fazed the tiny earthbender girl. She just looked up absently at Katara, more bored than anything else.

"Twinkles is in over his head again," she declared. "Snap him out of it."

Katara's forehead creased, and she was stepping forwards to wrap her arms her arms around him before she could really stop herself. But she held on for a long time, before she finally let go.

Something had passed behind her back while she'd held him, clearly—Zuko looked like he'd eaten an unripe persimmon and had his mouth sucked out of his face—but Katara honestly didn't want to know. She bit her lip.

"Aang? What's bothering you?"

"The air's all—wrong," he said, hesitantly, shrugging his shoulders up around his ears. He'd grown into them some; those silly koi-elephant ears had always made him look younger than he actually was. He still looked young. Was probably always going to look young.

Spirits, but youth was such a far sweet thing.

"What do you mean?" Katara asked, tipping her head.

"It just feels… I can't explain it," he said, frustration over-taking the hesitancy. "It's all tight and weird. Like—"

"Like?" Katara encouraged, gently. Gently.

"Like the Western Air Temple," he said, and his misery was so sudden and so intense that it felt like she'd been plunged into a bucket of ice. "Like that, but alive."

"Oh, Aang," Katara said, and reached for him again. "I'm sorry."

He clutched at her, fingers winding tight into the fabric of her dress, and he hid his face in her shoulder. He reminded Katara of a wounded polarlion cub, clinging to its mother as she tried to keep it safe.

Katara hummed at him, arms sliding around his shoulders, her old lullabies rising in her throat. She chanced a look at Zuko and Toph, behind her—Toph's shoulders tight and furious, Zuko's face only tired—and knew that she couldn't keep this up.

"Come on, Aang," she said, softly. He nodded into her, again, still clung to her like a limpet. "Let's go talk to Iroh. Zuko, can you find—?"

"Yes," he said, already passing her, headed inside.

For the barest second, his fingers curled against the small of her back, and a flare of heat went through her. Katara fought not to sigh, drop Aang, and follow Zuko inside so that she could go to bed.

(Her dream sat acrid at the back of her throat. Yue. The orange cloth. That empty, vacant sky and falling, falling forever—but no. The Spirits hadn't abandoned them. That dream, sick and twisted as it had been, had nothing to do with this. Aang was scared. Katara was scared, too.)

The Avatar needed her.

It was just that that was nothing new.

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tbc.