Author Note: The comments Katara makes in this chapter are not a slight to her character. I love her dearly. I think she can get flustered easily and she may be making appearances later on in this fic. Who knows! Again: review, fave, follow, whatever floats your boat.

TW/CW: brief mention of suicide, mention of drugs, not expanded on (in this chapter).

This chapter's title comes from the song When the Sun Hits by Slowdive

Her room is right next to his, just two doors down. Enough room for her to breathe, close enough to feel safe. He opens the door, she hears fabric rustling and imagines he stretched out his arm to show it off, the motion means nothing. She sits on the edge of her bed, just staring forward. The same emptiness is there, the look she had on in the bath. He had hoped it would help, but he's realizing this is something different than physical exhaustion. He sits next to her and decides to speak. He doesn't wait this time.

"I can feel your sadness, you know?"

"I know."

"I'm sorry you're hurting."

"Me too."

"Yesterday you seemed…"

He paused. She spoke instead.

"Happier?"

"No. Like you had some life in you."

"It comes in waves. Right now I just feel tired and hollow. This last year abroad really scared me. I didn't know if I would make it back to everyone."

He knows what she's talking about. Disappearing, in a sense. Or suicide. Again, he thinks it might be both. He's felt that before, after his father made him deul, after his scar "healed," after he decided he was on the wrong side of history, and even after the war was over. He's tired, too.

"I'm happy you made it back."

His words have a double meaning.

"I'm not sure everyone agrees with you. Katara lost her shit when I visited."

"What did she say?"

"Nothing I haven't heard before from other people. I disappointed her. By not pitching in after we won she feels I was unfair to everyone; the Gaang, the four nations… I feel so suffocated, though. I didn't think helping Aang would extend past the war. I was 12. None of it crossed my mind."

She says everything so calmly and evenly. He's getting used to this newer version of her; a less harsh, more jaded form. He doesn't say anything. She feels him move to the center of the bed, she can hear the sounds of him propping pillows against his back so he can relax into them. He spreads his legs, stretching them outward into a V.

"Come here."

She shifts and crawls onto the bed leaving too much space between them, faces toward him and doesn't move.

"I said come here."

He says it softly. She's not sure where to put herself. She wants the physical comfort he's offering, but she's nervous. It's been so long since she's touched him like this. He's a familiar stranger. She crawls forward tentatively, feeling where his legs are dipping into the comforter. She can sense they're face to face, that medicinal smell comes back. It's herbal and funky. The smell is in his clothes maybe, or on his breath. Then she feels his hands on her, helping her turn around so she can lean back onto his chest. His arms don't try to hold her close, instead his hands are on his thighs lightly touching her legs too.

"I'm sure her life didn't turn out how she wanted either, but I'm sorry she said those things to you. She probably didn't mean it to be as harsh as it came out."

The vibrations from his chest and voice felt good. They grounded her.

"Probably not."

"Doesn't mean it doesn't hurt."

She sighs and breathes deeply, almost meditating. They just sit there with each other for a while. The smell still lingers and now she's curious.

"Do you smell that?"

"Smell what?"

She stirs, turning around so they're face to face again. He's still leaning back onto the pillows and now she's kneeling between his outstretched legs. Her hands come up to rest on his chest. She leans forward and starts sniffing. She sniffs his neck, shoulders, robes, hair, even going towards his armpits. This makes him laugh, she feels the heavy vibrations and his breath skitters across her face. As a result she blushes, her stomach tightens, she holds strong.

"I'm serious! Do you smell that?"

"I think you smell it more than me. I'm used to it by now."

He's not lying, but he's not filling in the blanks of her question. It's her turn to wait for him.

"Have you ever smoked anything before?"

"I've smoked tobacco with people I traveled with… only a little bit while we drank, this isn't tobacco is it?"

"Herb is different. It's like alcohol in the way that everyone has their own reaction. It can make you feel lighter, albeit a little foggier. People use it for various reasons."

Her hands are still on his chest and she's still facing him. He's not intimidated by her the same way he once was. The same goes for her. She knows he's staring at her face, scanning it. He notices she lost most of the baby fat, her cheekbones are more pronounced, and her dark circles are a little worrying. She's worn out. Tired. He covers her hands with his, pinning them to the front of his robe. She doesn't know what to ask next so he speaks for her.

"I like the way it forces me to relax. It's hard to get my mind off of things when I'm laying in bed. Hard to sleep knowing I have my responsibilities waiting in the morning."

Responsibilities. The word repeats itself over and over again in her head. She feels a twinge of regret for avoiding everyone, maybe Katara didn't mean she had to take on duties. Maybe Katara just meant that she missed her, that she wanted her around. She thinks he might want her around, too. The feeling passes quick enough.

"...I can feel your sadness, too."

He's not surprised by her statement. Iroh has always been worried about him. Worried that his life, outside of his duties, will pass him by. Worried he'll stop looking for a partner, that he'll stop wanting to start a family, that he'll become void of who he once was. He used to be driven, so propelled by honor and what was right. It's not like that anymore. Now his life is full of policies, staff, citizens, and working towards a new era of unity. He knows he's sad. He misses these moments with the people he loves, the ones who accepted him even after all he's done to harm them.

"I know."

"I'm sorry I left. Maybe Katara was right."

"Don't be sorry. The Avatar has lifelong duties and Katara married into that. Sokka's following in his dad's footsteps like he always wanted. Suki's been taking care of herself and her people for longer than we all know. I was the Prince of the Fire Nation, I was going to be leading something someday. You've always been free to leave."

She's bitter now. She's never been free to leave. She wasn't allowed to see the badgermoles, wasn't allowed a proper earth bending teacher in town, wasn't allowed to fight, was so close to not being able to train the Avatar. He watches her scrunch her face and realizes he said the wrong thing.

"I didn't mean it like that."

"It's fine."

The words were spoken too harshly for both of them, ringing in their ears. She takes her hands back and places them in her lap. He lets her. She scoots back, giving him room.

"I want some time alone."

He's not sure if that's a good idea, but there's no point in arguing. He messed up. He moves off the bed and towards the door.

"I have meetings to attend to today."

She stays silent. His voice fills the room once more.

"Come visit me in my room later."

He knows she won't respond. So he opens the door and leaves.