Disclaimer: I do not own Avatar: The Last Airbender or Come Back or Everlong.

Notes: One of these days, I'm going to write something happy, since I really am a happy individual. I suggest you listen to Come Back by the Foo Fighters and Everlong by the Foo Fighters. I was inspired by a Foo Fighters fanfiction, that I read long ago, called, Come Back. It is on Live-Journal… somewhere. Anyhow, it's slash (not this story), so let that be a warning.

Warning: Implied… stuff. Dark themes.

Come Back With Me (Everlong)

Wait for me.

You left without saying goodbye, just with a single-song CD and a promise to return.

But you never did, and I don't think you ever will.

You said that you were dying (or dead, but I can't remember anymore). You could only think of the fire that claimed your mother's life and ravaged your skin while trying to save her. But that was so long ago, Zuko. You're not deceased; your touch still burns on my skin—lingering, teasing, and ripping everything into nothing—even seven months later. (Not that I would ever stop feeling like this toward you.)

So, why did you say you were leaving? To clear your mind? Why do you need space? I am always willing to support you I hope you know. I love you.

I think you are just lost, Zuko.

I wanted to stop you. Tell you that I would help you; love you; keep you; yearn for you forever more.

Turns out, I didn't need to say a thing.

Zuko, you read my thoughts, and said that you know what I feel, but that I don't understand. You said you weren't good enough for me; that you need to get your act together, need to stop messing up, need to stop being Zuko in order to give me all I need.

You are the one who doesn't understand: I fell in love with Zuko, and not anyone else.

Where are you now, after you jumped on the subway and left, bringing only a CD with the faithful song that always drifts through my mind? Does it haunt you as well? The chords are heavy and distorted, aren't they?

Heavy on your shoulders, and distorted in your mind. But it really is lovely. And it's the only thing that keeps me here, even when it separates me from everyone else—no one else can see the significance.

I miss you (more than you know).

Is life rough in your dreary apartment? Are you thinking of me? Are you getting food? Are you having luck in your search for yourself? I know you are still alive, Zuko. I can hear your heart beating in my head.

When you left, if you remember correctly, I never said I would wait for you patiently. I never said anything. I nodded my head absentmindedly. I'm not the type of girl to wait forever. I'm no sucker. I'm no sap. I'm no pushover.

So, don't you even think of dying, because I am coming for you.

Packing nothing, I knew that I wasn't going to get lost (I'm not you). I ran out of the apartment (after being caged like a drugged animal for too long, mind you) with my keys, money, and cell phone as companions. And that CD, of course—it hasn't left my side.

Swift steps. One foot in front of the other. I passed by your apartment three blocks down, musing all the while if you, too, have walked this path at this speed. I bet I could beat your time getting to the train. I was always faster than you.

I know where you are (a place of the past—familiar, clustered, busy, noisy—so you can be another face in the crowd in which you weave so easily through) because you never change.

I could only think about you, while holding onto the bars in the train tight, as if it was your hand and your heart. Why do you always insist on thinking solely of how you can help yourself? Am I not here, Zuko? Had I not said I loved you? Was I not clear enough when I screamed your name?

My feet hit the ground running as soon as the train stopped. I followed an unseen trail. I thought of an unseen face. I knew of an unseen location. I felt an unseen sensation.

Apprehension isn't my thing.

You would laugh if you had seen how many times I stumbled upon getting to the place where I knew you would be—the apartment's renovation rids the ashes but not the burn. All traces are not gone, nor will they ever be.

One green street sign points down hill—farther, farther, never ending—until it meets yet another. All but one is unfamiliar. That one sign brings back more than I think I bargained for. Though, I move on, knowing that you are so close now.

So close, and about to be together once more.

Grab (the rusty handle); twist (the wrist clock-wise); pull (the door toward my chest); push (my leg forward with a shaky step)—mechanical movements with feeling. A smell of smoke. A look of dim fluorescent light. The stairs are creaking under my feet, and, for a second, I think they may swallow me whole. But nothing can keep me from you anymore. Not you and definitely not this place.

I go another floor up—up, up, up—and the oxygen becomes scarce. I thinking I'm dying like you.

You said you'd come back… But you don't have to keep that promise any longer.

Don't hesitate anymore, I tell myself. I repeated the action I completed at the front door, which seems like a lifetime ago.

Open the door; be strong. The dimness of the hallway is against my back, shoving me forward; the darkness of the room is against my chest, chasing me away. I guess I'm between two worlds.

Yet, there you sit, in the midst of the chaos, on a disarrayed bed, looking shocked, ragged, tired, lost, with a CD in your hand and a thousand batteries and broken CD players at your feet.

I am here, whether you're ready or not.

You whisper my name like it is toxic. A destructive wave. A rising fire. You speak farther, but I don't know what you are saying.

"I know you said you'd come back."

A ghost of a regretful nod. Confirmation? Confusion…? Worry?

One foot in front of the other.

"Well, I can't wait that long. So, I'm here for you now, Zuko."

Five feet away.

"Come back," Desperation.

Two feet away.

"Please."

I fall to my knees at your feet; they ache as shards of a CD player dig into my jean-covered skin.

I'm strong, yeah, but I still need you.

I need more time, is what I think you say. But your voice is so raspy and my mind is so cloudy that I can't be sure.

I respond anyway.

"You won't come back, huh…?"—an empty smile, hands raised to lie on your knees—"I don't care. I came for you. And I'm not leaving without you."

You stare at me, wondering what I have in store next. I remember when you said that I would never cease to amaze you.

I didn't change much, as surprising as that may be. I never lose something without a fight. I will go down swinging.

Go ahead: call me spoiled.

"Come back, Zuko. You don't belong in this place."

I see you mulling over the predicament at hand. I'm hearing the ticks of a clock, but where they're coming from, I do not know.

Resolution in your shadowed eyes.

You lift my chin; I notice your hands are softer than they once were. You haven't moved much, have you? Your hair is longer and greasy and there is stubble growing on your face. I still see you, though, Zuko. I know you are in there… Somewhere.

I don't want to be left alone with these longings for the past.

You lean closer.

Come home.

Your breathing is warm.

Everyone misses you.

Your kiss leaves a scar, and I think it is identical to the one on your face.

I miss you.

Pulling back, with eyes clear and determined, you lift my hands (my heart) and lead me away from the past.

I been waiting here for you—

Everlong.

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Blue-Apple (October 19, 2006)