Surviving (Daybreak)
[100 AG]
[The Fire Nation Royal Palace]
The bed they shared had been his.
A moment ago.
A lifetime ago.
It had swallowed him whole in quiet nights, he'd drowned in seas of red fabrics when jolting awake, heart pounding, his mind still clouded by nightmares, and the shadows in the corners of his room had watched on without reaching out as the shadows in his head had threatened to consume him after Ba Sing Se.
But Toph was curled into his side now, so damn tiny.
And Aang was draped over his legs, shaking still.
Sokka's bony elbow dug into his ribs, Katara sniffled quietly, the blanket rustled when Suki turned over again and again and again until one of the siblings wrapped their arms around her.
And all of them could have died in so many different ways today.
And all of them were alive.
They were safe.
Together.
And for the first time in a long time, he could breathe properly.
His chest ached and the heart beating in it bled for the girl who'd always been off, just a little, who'd always known who to be to get what she wanted and how to act to be seen, who'd finally cracked under all the pressure that had destroyed him long ago, not because she was his sister, but because he could remember all too clearly how it had felt to have the rug pulled out from under him.
To be in free fall and fall and fall and fall.
And he'd stumbled over so many folds before starting to fall.
He doubted she ever had.
He wondered if there was still a chance for her to pick herself up again.
Toph tugged on his hand and snuggled closer, so he tightened his hold on her.
Her hair tickled his nose.
Agni, why did she have to be so small?
Why did Aang have to feel so light, so barely there at all?
Who'd thought it fair to have these children fight a war?
Sokka moved and his elbow left Zuko's ribs.
He wasn't sure how much time had passed since they had dragged themselves to his room, Katara and him, wasn't sure when the others had found them, Aang on Sokka's back, Toph on Suki's hand, all of them dead on their feet, but not dead, and the Fire Lord was no more, would never be again, and Aang had started sobbing when Sokka put him down.
And he tried to find it in himself to care, when the boy started apologizing, in between hiccups and sobs, care about the death of a man who had been his father, had burned his face, would never have loved him, never did love him, and maybe it was because he had watched his sister break into pieces just hours ago, had taken a lightning to his chest and almost died today, maybe he was just too tired too properly process what Sokka had said, what Aang was crying, but all he did care about was this tiny little boy, shaking and whimpering and forced to do what nobody ever should've expected of him, and all he could think was that none of this was fair.
But then, nothing ever had been.
He sighed quietly.
Then closed his eyes.
The bedsheets rustled.