There is a silence that swallows you tonight that you haven't felt for a while. Sleep will not be a refuge tonight.
Even though the breeze drifts through the windows, and the weather has been slightly cooler in the Fire Nation, there is a weight on your chest. Because you are on your back, your spread both of your arms out, palms against the sheets. They are the finest, most luxurious sheets you've ever felt. The best you've ever slept in.
Back and forth you sweep the palms of your hands over what you are laying on. After a minute of nothing changing, you sit up, your head leaving its place on the pillow. The cloth curtains ripple as a short breeze brushes them for a moment and you stare at the movement as your arms find their way around your knees.
You try to take a deep breath, but it comes out shallower than you hoped it would. It is only a short moment before you are out of your bed, brushing the sheets off of your body, and wandering out of your room in the Fire Palace.
All of the hallways and other areas outside of your own room are well lit with lamps and candles but you're pretty sure you could find your way even in the dark now. A turn here and a straight walk next and you are closer and closer. The light reflecting off the edge of the doorway tells you he's still awake.
He's always still up.
There are scrolls and books piled up on his elevated desk and you can tell the ink is keeping low in the bottle, and not only because he's still constantly moving brushstrokes on paper as you approach.
"You're supposed to be in bed," You say softly as you come around the back the bench he sits on. He sets the brush he was just writing with down and breathes a sigh. You feel like you could do the same.
Zuko grabs one of your hands and pulls it. As you follow the movement, you think about the curtains in your bedroom just a few minutes ago. You think of a lot as Zuko continues to pull your arm so you come around the bench to sit next to him.
"So should you," He says as his fingertips trace down the inside of your forearm before one hand rests on your legs. The other picks back up the brush and dips it in ink but doesn't move it any further. The desk is scattered with papers of all kind: things from the Earth King and updates from the Water Tribe, your former home. There is a personal letter from Aang, though you refuse to read something containing a multitude of information that is probably to heavy and nuanced for so late in the night.
"I couldn't sleep," You shrug and think about your curtains again. The way the soft breeze rippled them from their place. You think about the weight that still sits in your chest, how it's a little harder to breathe tonight. There is a wedding being planned that is being repudiated by people all over the Fire Nation while world peace is trying to be established.
You don't know exactly how long it will take to rebuild the whole world after it was at war for 100 years, but as evidence by the fact that Zuko has worked late almost every night since he was crowned, it's going to take much longer than a few weeks or months. Most of these problems cannot be solved with broad policies and well wishes and good intentions. The world will only be righted once again when there is specific and direct action and complete follow-through, especially from the Fire Nation.
Peace is not possible if wounds are ignored or glossed over.
Peace if not possible if there is not active listening partnered with actions of justice.
"Do you ever wonder," You begin, trying to release the weight instead of it sinking further in, "what it would have been like if we had waited a little longer? Do you think things would have been easier?"
Zuko sets down the brush he had been holding in his hand, laying it against paper that is half-written on. One glimpse at it tells you it's a reply to Aang's letter. He sits up a little straighter and his hand moves just a little farther up your thigh. The warmth of his skin is welcomed. His eyes land on your face, just gazing at it. His own eyes seem soft and liquid, a warm amber in the candlelight reflecting off of them.
The wounds may still be open and raw, but even Zuko's own expression tells you that his words will not fix them or mend them. He doesn't want them to do that. The weight doesn't disappear entirely, but it fades away little by little, second by second. He won't be the one to heal anything.
So, instead of filling the silence of the night with words that may not end up meaning anything, he brushes his hand up and down your thigh again and your release your own sigh this time. Not everything needs to happen at once.
Maybe this whole part of your life is supposed to be about taking things one step at a time. Maybe it's not about focusing on Zuko breathing next to you, and you taking your own breaths right now. Maybe it's okay to not think of the bigger picture every time you're trying to process your own emotions. Maybe focusing on one raw emotion at a time can be better than trying to figure out the whirlpool all at once.
Maybe it's enough right now and maybe that's okay.
It could be the next five minutes, it could be half-an-hour or two hours, but you spend the next moments next to Zuko. You soak in his presence and you begin to understand that not everything needs to be understood at once, not everything needs to be processed at once. It is okay to leave yourself unfinished.
"Will you finish it in the morning so you can come to bed with me now?"
Zuko sets down the brush compliantly and sits slightly forward to blow out the candlelight on the desk. You both watch as the room grows darker, with only the moonlight creeping in to provide you any clues to where you are. He is not afraid to do what you ask.
He is not afraid anymore to just be.
You leave the room with your hand in his.