*Italicized sections indicate flashback/memory*
Zuko
Deep within Fire Palace of Caldera City, the young Fire Lord hovered over the crib that his young daughter slept in. He seemed in a trance, watching the soft intake and outtake of breath that made Princess Izumi's little chest rise and fall.
He was so transfixed on watching the steady rise and fall that ensured him that his daughter was alive and healthy, he didn't notice that someone had slipped into the nursery until a cold and trembling hand was on his shoulder.
"You need to sleep, Zuko," his wife said pleadingly.
The Fire Lord turned to his wife, and he saw her dark eyes glitter with what looked like tears. "In a few minutes," he muttered.
Mai frowned at him. "It's been one year. One — whole — year. If you keep this up, you're going to miss out on our daughter's life," she said, her tone firm but watery. "You need to stop blaming yourself for what happened to her."
Something like anger, or maybe regret, flared through him. "She died protecting our daughter, Mai," he said, louder than he had intended, "Because I had asked her to be on guard that night. How could I not blame myself?"
His words had caused Izumi to wake and start crying, to which Mai swiftly bent down and took the child into her arms. Zuko watched, guilt-ridden, as his wife cradled their daughter. He thought back to the last conversation he had with the leader of the Kyoshi Warriors, which was a little over a year ago.
Zuko had requested to meet with her in his personal study, where they were going over security planning for his wife's upcoming delivery.
"I suspect the New Ozai Society and Earth Kingdom extremists will be planning an attack the day of the delivery," Zuko had said, "We upped the security here in the Palace, but I would feel a lot safer about Mai's upcoming delivery if the Kyoshi Warriors were guarding the palace."
The armor-clad woman had smiled. "I was planning on doing so even if you hadn't asked me," she said, grinning, "We're all so excited for the baby to come. Katara and Aang will be arriving in Caldera City by tomorrow and Sokka, Toph, and I have been here for a few weeks now."
"And Uncle has been here since Mai announced she was pregnant," said Zuko was a laugh. "It sometimes feels like the baby's never going to arrive."
Suki smiled at the thought. "We're all just playing the waiting game, I guess."
Zuko had smiled, running a hand through his hair. "I know that Mai, for one, is tired of waiting."
"I'm sure she would be," she had snorted.
And on thenight of the delivery, exactly one year ago, a group of Earth Kingdom extremists snuck into the palace and managed to get past most of the security Zuko had implemented. Unfortunately for them, they were discovered by the Kyoshi Warriors. They alerted the palace and immediately, Mai, who was in the middle of labor, was moved from the labor ward to the metal bunker Toph had constructed for them — just in case things went awry.
Aang, Sokka, Katara, and Toph — upon hearing of the breach — rushed to the aide of the Kyoshi Warriors while Zuko stayed with his wife. By the time they arrived, they found most of the warriors driving out the last remaining extremists. The leader of the Kyoshi Warriors, however, had been found fatally injured in the struggle. They had been with her when she died, an opportunity Zuko wished he had.
He at least wanted to say goodbye, or tell her how much he appreciated her and cherished their friendship. But at the same time, he equally didn't want to miss the birth of his own daughter.
By the time Izumi was born, the news of Suki's death had reached everyone in Caldera City.
The entire world, most of all Zuko, had been torn between expressing grief for the passing of one of the world's greatest warriors or joy for the birth of the heir to the Fire Nation.
It had felt wrong being joyful for his daughter's birth when one of his best friends had died ensuring it went safely. But it also felt wrong to spend the early stage of his daughter's life grieving.
It had been hard striking the balance between grief and joy then, but now — Zuko realized as he watched his wife hum comforting lullabies to their cranky daughter — it felt impossible.
...
Ty Lee
On Kyoshi Island, an acrobat was in the process of paying her respects to an old friend of hers. She was seated, cross-legged, in front of the memorial that had been created in honor of the late leader of the Kyoshi Warriors. She had a picnic blanket spread out underneath her with incense and a traditional painting of Suki.
Ever since Suki's death last year, Ty Lee had remained on Kyoshi Island, nursing her own wounds from that night.
Sokka, if he wasn't spending his time in the Southern Water Tribe visiting his new nephew, he would be cooped up in the house that he had shared with his wife whenever they would visit his wife's hometown. Ty Lee, who had grown to become a close friend to the Chieftan of the Southern Water Tribe over the years, had tried several times to get Sokka out of the house. But most of the time, he wouldn't even open the door when she knocked.
She could understand his indifference towards her, though. Ty Lee blamed herself for what happened to Suki, and she wouldn't fault Sokka for doing the same thing. Closing her eyes, she winced as she remembered the last time she had seen Suki alive.
The Kyoshi Warriors, despite having no bending, were on the winning end of the struggle between them and the extremists who had foolishly tried to break into the palace and threaten the life of the future prince or princess. They had been driving the last of the extremists out of Caldera City, when Suki had whipped her head around and locked eyes with the leader of the extremists.
The leader had sent a large rock hurtling their way, which both girls dodged, before fleeing in the opposite direction. Snarling, Suki began pursuing the leader of the extremists. Suki had been trying to capture him for years now, but he always managed to slip away just before she reached him.
"Ty Lee," Suki had yelled to her, "Go find the other girls, make sure they're okay. Capture as many of the extremists as you can."
"But—"
"I said go!" she yelled, firmer this time. Her eyes were fixed on the fleeting figure of the leader. "I can handle this! He's not going to get away from me again!"
And the was the last time Ty Lee had seen her. True to her word, Suki successfully managed to capture the leader — who was later imprisoned for life — but not before receiving wounds that would prove fatal. Ty Lee swallowed thickly when remembering the incident.
Now, of course, she wished that she had stayed with her. That might've changed everything.
Most of all, she just wished that Suki knew how sorry she was.
...
Katara
In a cozy home in the Southern Water Tribe, a young woman cradled her infant son while leaning back on the rocking chair her brother had constructed for her. In a few weeks, her son would reach five months and she's glad for it. Yet, despite the intimate moment between mother and son, the young woman couldn't help but feel a sharp pang of grief going through her. A pang of grief so strong that it nearly made her drop her son.
Luckily, she managed to catch him before he fell further than her lap, but the sudden movement caused the child to cry. The young woman sighed and took the child back into her arms, cradling him once more. But her mind was preoccupied.
Because exactly one year ago, Katara lost somebody. No, she failed somebody.
As the memory of the incident resurfaces, hot tears well up in her blue eyes.
They had found her coughing blood and trying to staunch the blood that was rapidly blossoming from her abdomen. Beside her was the unconscious leader of the extremists, his hands and feet bound tightly with metal cuffs.
"Sokka," Suki had gasped, doubling over in pain as blood leaked from her lips. Sokka immediately went to her side, clutching her hand tight in his.
Katara had immediately taken her into her arms, quickly moving to coat her hands with water. She was trembling hard as the horrid realization dawned on her. Her healing — it wasn't working. She could feel her slipping away. She was too far gone.
Sokka had come to the same realization. "Save her, dammit!" her brother had shouted at her, shaking her furiously by the shoulders. Someone dragged him away from her, which halted his attack on her shoulders but not his screaming."You're not even trying! You're letting her die!"
"I'm trying, I'm trying!" she had shrieked back, tears streaming down her face in a steady trickle. Her water-coated hands moved faster against the bloodied abdomen of the woman she was trying so hard to save.
Katara let out a cry at the memory and hugged her son closer to her. "I'm so sorry," she choked out. "I'm so, so sorry."
But her words held little value considering the person she wanted so desperately to apologize to, was no longer alive to hear her apologies.
...
Sokka
A bitter man sat in the bedroom he once shared with his wife, and he tipped a bottle of alcohol towards his lips. The liquid stung as it went down his throat, but the numbness and lightness that followed were worth it.
Despite his tipsiness, he had enough cognitive ability to understand that what he was doing was wrong and that if she were still alive, she'd be absolutely appalled at him. She'd want him to look to the future rather than wallow in the past, he knew that much. But as far as Sokka was concerned, he also knew that he was nothing but a dead man walking. A part of him died when Suki did, and the rest of him was slowly but surely catching up.
Ty Lee had come by a few times this past year. Most of her visits consisted of her begging him to get out of the house. Begging him to stop killing himself. He didn't want to listen, nor did he think he could.
Closing his eyes, his mind wandered back to that night.
"I'm trying, I'm trying!" Katara had cried, moving her hands more fervently.
He might've yelled at her more had it not been for the hand squeezing his. Looking down at Suki, he clutched her hand once more.
"Please," he had begged, "Please stay."
She had been crying, her tears mixing with the blood she had coughed. "I love you," she said.
"I love you too," he had echoed. Katara was now full-on sobbing, her hands shaking as they danced in circular motions. "For forever and always."
Something that looked like a smile crossed her face, but it could've also been a grimace. "Forever and always," she had repeated.
Sokka sighed, swallowing hard. He opened his eyes once more and looked down at the bottle of liquor. He didn't particularly like drinking, he actually hated the taste of alcohol. But he just needed to forget. He just needed to not spend every waking moment of his life thinking about her and how he could've prevented what happened. But until then, drinking was his only option.
Tipping the bottle back towards him, he took another swig.
...
Toph
Deep in the heart of Republic City, a young woman of short stature sat in her small apartment, hugging her knees tight to her chest. Her hands were clamped as tightly as possible over her ears and she wanted to scream until her throat was raw. Maybe she was. She couldn't tell.
She couldn't stop hearing it. The thump, thump, thu-thump of a heart beating. She pressed her fingers even harder against her ears, and she knew that they would be bright red after she removed her hands from them. But she didn't care. She just needed the sound to stop ringing across her head. Her green and unseeing eyes were screwed shut in concentration.
This — the ringing — had happened a few times since she died. Since that fateful night, Toph had become occasionally prone to attacks wherein the same haunting rhythm etched itself into her mind. But it had never been this bad before. Toph suspected the intensity of the ringing was brought on by the anniversary of her death. She didn't care, she just wanted it to stop.
Clenching her teeth, Toph tried to no avail to stop the memory of that night from flooding back to her brain.
After a few moments of trying to heal her wound, Katara had shaken her head in dismay. "She's gone," she had cried before removing her water-covered hands away from the woman she had been trying to save.
Sokka, who had been holding the woman's hand, dropped it and had fallen to his knees, his face ash fallen.
Toph had shaken her head sharply, her hands and feet alike pressed on the stone beneath her. "No she's not!" she had exclaimed, her voice betraying her happiness, "I can feel it. Her heartbeat. It's soft, but it's still there!"
Almost immediately everyone had sprung back to action. Katara had moved her hands back to the woman, and after a few moments, moved away again.
"Toph, she's gone," Katara had said firmly.
Toph's face had twisted up in fury. "No she's not, Katara!" she had yelled, her hands gripping the earth more firmly. She had definitely still felt the soft but still existent thump, thump, thu-thump. "I can feel her heartbeat!"
"Well, then you're feeling wrong!" Katara had screamed.
Toph's mouth had opened to shout at her, to call her horrible and wicked, but then her voice dried in her throat when the horrible, horrible realization settled over her like a heavy fog. "Oh no, oh no," she had muttered before scrambling forward to touch the dying — the dead — woman. Her hands found the woman's still-warm belly. And she felt it. The unmistakable heartbeat did not belong to the woman.
It belonged to the child within her.
Katara realized it at the same time, and she wailed louder into her hands.
Toph's eyes had widened and she clapped her hands instantly over her ears and began sobbing. "I'm so sorry, Sokka," she had cried to the man who was still on his knees, "I'm so sorry. I didn't know, I— I didn't know!"
The man had put two and two together, and he evidently had also not known that his wife was pregnant. For he had cradled her tighter to him and let out an anguished cry.
And Toph had still been able to hear it. The quickly diminishing thump, thump, thu-thump.
The heartbeat of Suki's unborn, but still alive, child.
With a gasp, Toph wrenched herself out of the memory. Don't think about it, don't think about it, don't think about it. It was a silent mantra in her head.
Wordlessly, Toph moved her hands away from her ears. They were still ringing, but no longer with the haunting heartbeat of a slowly dying unborn child within the womb of an already dead mother. Katara had wanted to try and induce labor somehow and save the fetus, but the child had died before Katara could think of a way to save it.
Toph frowned, wondering if the child — who had to have been only a few weeks old — would be independent enough to survive outside its mother's womb if Katara managed to induce labor.
Toph screwed her eyes shut again at the thought, her breath coming to her in ragged pants.
...
Aang
In a small, but extraordinarily popular tea shop in Ba Sing Se, the Avatar sat in a small booth in a secluded corner of the shop. In front of him was an undrunk cup of tea that had by now gone cold. He stared out the window, lost in thought as he watched citizens walk by.
Aang was in Ba Sing Se to sign an act that would help improve living conditions in the Lower Ring. He had just attended the official signing at the King's Palace, and decided to stop by The Jasmine Dragon before heading home. He frowned as he remembered the official signing.
He had been distracted during the signing, and he accidentally signed in the spot where the Earth King was supposed to sign. To make matters worse, when the Earth King brought out a second copy of the act, Aang had misspelled his name. How you can misspell a name that is only two characters long (安昂), Aang had no idea.
And even now, as he sat watching pedestrians walk by, he was still distracted. Because exactly one year ago today, he lost a good friend and powerful ally of his.
Having to become the world's last hope at age twelve, Aang had been through a lot. Many deaths, many losses, many heartaches. But none more recent, or quite as jarring, as the death of the Leader of the Kyoshi Warriors. He sighed as he remembered It didn't feel right when Aang addressed her like that, and he said as much when he was asked to speak at her funeral service that was held on Kyoshi Island. Suki wasn't just a warrior, she was also his friend.
"Thank you all, for gathering here," he had said, looking over the crowd of people who had come to mourn Suki's death.
Among them were Zuko, Mai, and their new child — a baby girl named Izumi. The name had been one of Suki's suggestions, and the Fire Lord and Fire Lady named their daughter in her honor. Beside the Royal Family sat his wife, Katara, and his recently widowed brother-in-law, Sokka. Toph sat beside Sokka, chewing her bottom lip so hard it was bleeding.
"Thank you for traveling so far, to pay respects," he had continued, "A mentor of mine once told me that death was a stage of life just like all the others, one to be respected but not feared. A few days ago, we all lost someone we cared for and admired. A woman whose bravery and compassion served as a monument to her name. Many of you know Suki as a warrior or a fighter. While she was both of those things, she was also a wife and a sister and a friend —" he had hesitated for a moment.
He wanted to say that she was a mother, as well, but it felt wrong and out of place. It was true that Suki was with child when she died, but the rest of the world didn't need to know that. That was something everyone decided should be kept private. So, he quickly covered up for his slip-up:
"—and I am honored to have had a friendship with her. And though she is no longer physically with us, her legacy lives on. It lives on through the Earth Kingdom citizens she saved on the day of the comet. It lives on through the hearts of the friends and family she has left behind. And it lives on, through the life of Fire Princess Izumi, for whom she had laid down her life.
"Her life," Aang continued, "will serve as an example for others. Her name will live on, and her sacrifice never forgotten."
"Aang?"
Aang jolted straight up, knocking over his luke-warm tea. He looked up to see Iroh standing in front of him with a cup of tea of his own in hand. One of the older man's eyebrows was quirked at Aang.
"Are you alright?" asked Iroh, before he sat in the seat across from Aang.
Aang flushed with embarrassment before using waterbending to put the spilled tea back in the cup. "Sorry," he said.
"No need to apologize," Iroh said kindly, sipping at his cup of tea, "I know how hard this day must be for you, and I thought you might be in need of some company."
Aang gave a humorless laugh. "Yeah, you could say that." His brows furrowed. After a few moments, he continued. "I guess it's just hard to comprehend that she's really gone."
"You have my condolences," he said, bowing his head slightly. "I also considered Suki to be a dear friend and, just as I have for the rest of you, I truly watched her morph into an incredible young adult. When she passed away, it felt like I was losing my son all over again."
"How did you manage to get through that? Get through losing your son?" Aang asked, subconsciously thinking of his infant son at home.
Iroh sighed. "It was certainly challenging, but still possible." He placed his cup of tea on the table before continuing. "In this world, life exists everywhere. And the truth is, life does exist even after death — no matter how inconceivable it may be. And there are ways in which you can learn to live again, even after experiencing a grief such as this."
"How?" Aang had asked, more eagerly than he had intended.
The old man only smiled. "It is important to not stop yourself from feeling joy because you think you should be feeling grief. Joy after death is not something to be ashamed of, but rather something to be embraced."
Aang thought of Zuko, who was still torn between joy over the birth of a daughter and sorrow over the death of a friend.
"It is equally important to forgive yourself," Iroh continued, "for what happened was not your fault nor was it in your control. Do not live in the what-ifs or could've-beens. Live in the present, plan for the future, and accept your past."
This time, the Avatar thought of Ty Lee and Katara, who were both still struggling to admit that what happened wasn't either of their faults.
Iroh's wrinkled face grew serious. "At the same time, however, do not lose yourself in trying to forget the past. Accept your past, yes, but do not forget it. Never forget."
Grimacing, Aang's mind went straight to Sokka, who now spent his days more drunk than sober.
"Remember to acknowledge what happened to you, and know that you are strong enough to get through it."
Aang remembered Toph, who had been rocking back and forth on the floor with her hands clamped over her ears after Suki died.
"Always understand that it is okay to have days where you feel grief. Allow yourself to feel sorrow, allow yourself to cry. It is okay to have days where you don't want to put on a face for others. Take time for yourself and focus on your healing."
He now considered himself.
There had been so many days, particularly the ones that had directly followed Suki's death, where he hadn't allowed himself to mourn. He was the Avatar, and the world needed him more than he needed to grieve. He would put on a face and hope that nobody could spot a difference.
"And lastly, " said Iroh, "do not isolate yourself from your family or the people who care about you. Talk about your loss with them, help each other get through it as a team — as one. Remember Avatar, just as there is rain after a dry spell and dawn after night, there is life after death."
At the end of Iroh's speech, Aang felt lighter than he had in a long time. His words had resonated with Aang. At that moment, it had finally clicked. He knew what he needed to do. He could imagine Suki smiling at him from the Spirit World and shaking her head before muttering something like, 'took ya' long enough!'
Aang stood from his seat, reaching for his glider. He peered out the window to see Appa ready to take flight. "Thank you so much," Aang said appreciatively, "For the advice, I mean."
The old man only smiled. "I am honored to offer my advice to anyone who will lend an ear."
"I think I know exactly what I need to do," Aang said, determination crossing his features as he thought of some people who may need to hear Iroh's advice.
A/N: I don't necessarily believe the popular fan theory that Suki died young, but I thought it would be fun to write. It's interesting because when I started this one-shot series, I was aiming to write fun and light-hearted stories about the members of the Gaang. Somehow, that kind of turned into a collection of morbid and bleak stories for characters who weren't part of the Gaang. Either way, thoughts on this one? As always, critiscm/feedback/suggestions are always welcomed. And feel free to leave prompts in the reviews.