Of Play-dates, and Sickness
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Giggles rang out through the halls as a bright-eyed, dark-skinned four-year-old bounced through the halls to her parent's room. Black hair, tied in traditional Fire Nation style, fanned out behind her, as she ran, so eager to go and play with her daddy, like he'd promised.
As Asamiya rounded the corner near her parent's room, she was stopped by the strong arm of her mother, wrapping around her, and holding her back.
An obviously pregnant Katara bent down to her daughter's eye level and looked straight into her golden eyes – eyes that came from her father, who loved her more than anything.
"Now," Katara asked, looking into those large eyes, "where are you going in such a rush?"
"Daddy promised we could play all day today, Mommy, 'cause he said he didn't have to work," the little girl replied. Katara felt her heart ache for her child at the gentle, excited innocence she saw in those eyes that so matched her husband's own. She wanted nothing more than to watch Asamiya run into the room, and pounce on Zuko, who, instead of being so sick, was just sleeping in on his one day off, or just laying, pretending to sleep, waiting for his little angel, but instead, Katara shook her head.
"I'm sorry, sweetheart," she said gently, "your father can't play today."
"But – but Mommy," she told her mother, a bit of worry creeping into her young voice, "he promised we would. Why can't I go see Daddy?" Katara sighed, sadly.
"Asamiya," she explained, her voice as soft and gentle as possible, "of course you can see your father. He just can't play right now."
"Why not, Mommy?" the little princess asked, gazing up at her mom, her eyes shining with the tears of worry that were only just starting to form. Katara took a deep breath, and let it out slowly.
"Sweetie," she said, placing a caring hand on the girls' small shoulders, "Daddy can't play because he's sick. He'll be alright, after a while, though," Katara added quickly at the look in Asamiya's large eyes. "Come on, dear," the Fire Queen said gently, "I'm sure it would make your father feel so much better if he could see you."
Zuko looked up from where he lay as the door opened. He smiled when he saw his daughter, his pale face lighting up as he looked into the dark skin, black hair, and golden eyes he loved so well.
Asamiya, however, didn't smile. She gasped as she too k in the sight of her father, lying in his big bed; his normally light face was even paler and his long, black hair, normally up in a topknot, was down, and devoid of the usual flame crown. He was sweating, and had the blankets pulled up to his chin, and tucked tight around him. His golden eyes, which had always seemed so bright, were dull, and stray strands of hair were plastered to his face, and the dark scar, normally almost a dim background detail, stood out sharply against his sallow skin.
"Daddy!" Asamiya gasped, tears falling down her cheeks as she ran to his side. She climbed up onto the bed, and crawled over to him.
"...hello, Asamiya," Zuko whispered, his voice hoarse. "Sorry we can't play today, love."
"Daddy?" Asamiya asked, worried. "Are you gonna be okay?" Zuko carefully reached up, and brushed the tears from her face.
"Of course, love," he replied, his voice weak, and yet, still so reassuring, "I'll be fine."
Asamiya, and Katara as well, cringed when Zuko turned his head and started coughing. Asamiya sat up straighter in fear and concern as Katara raced over, bending the water from the pitcher to a cup as she came, and grabbed it, pressing it gently against his lips, as she helped him sit up.
Zuko drank slowly, sighed as he finished, and started trying to regain his breath. He closed his eyes as Katara laid him back against the pillows, piled up to make him more comfortable, and focused on his breathing. In. Out. Come on, Zuko, you're the Fire Lord. You should be able to pull yourself through being sick –
"Daddy?"
Zuko's eyes snapped open as he was jolted back to reality by his daughter's voice, quiet and scared, and so unsure. It broke him, and tore at his heart to hear the usually confident, outgoing little one so frightened and sad. Slowly, he turned his head to her, and the look he saw on her face and in her eyes killed him. She was young, she was innocent, she wasn't supposed to know such fear and pain. She was supposed to run and play, and let her parents worry about her, not her about her parents. Zuko suddenly found himself caught between a soft bed below, and his sobbing daughter, clinging to his neck, her face buried in his chest as she sobbed.
"Daddy, don't – don't go!" she cried. "I'm scared, Daddy, don't leave, don't, don't be sick, Daddy, don't go away like great grandma Gran-Gran! Please, don't go away!"
Zuko felt tears prick his eyes. Why, why did he have to get sick at a time when she wouldn't understand because of how young she was? It just wasn't fair. He hated seeing his little girl – heir to the throne, the crown princess, his only and beloved child – so sad. She was just so precious, and so sweet. Gently, he wrapped his arms around her, and stroked her long dark hair, shushing her gently.
"Asamiya," he soothed, "it's going to be alright. Don't worry, dear-heart. I won't 'go away' for many years."
Asamiya sat up slowly and looked down at her father, sniffling, and hiccoughing.
"Y-you promise?" she asked, a distant, tentative hope in her voice.
"Of course, sweetheart," Zuko replied, trying his best to sound certain, and strong, if only for her. But it was hard to get that same surety in his voice when it was hoarse, and he felt so weak. But he tried, for her. "I won't be going anywhere. I'll always be here. I promise."
Asamiya lay back down against him, the faintest smile crossing her face as her father gently kissed her dark hair, and she snuggled closer.
Katara smiled as she sat on Zuko's other side, watching the moment unfold. She saw the concern beyond her years in Asamiya's eyes, and the love, and sadness in her husband's. It was in moments like this – quiet moments, when hearts were opened, and any walls torn away – that she could see just how much the two meant to each other. Suddenly, she realized that it was getting closer to lunch time. Standing, she looked down at her husband, and little one. Much as she hated to separate them, both had to eat, and it wasn't healthy for little Asamiya to dwell too much on her father's condition.
"Sweetie," she whispered, catching the attention of both people lying beside her. Zuko looked up at his wife, their eyes locked, and the Fire Lord understood. He didn't like it, but he understood. "Asamiya, why don't you come with me to eat, and let your father rest?"
"But, what about Daddy?" Asamiya asked. 'Isn't he gonna eat, too?"
"Of course, dear," Katara replied. "He just has to eat special food, until he's better." Asamiya nodded, and wrapped her small arms around her father one last time before she left.
"See you later, Daddy," Asamiya said, a sort of reluctance in her voice that made Zuko feel so very loved, and he felt just the tiniest bit better than he had before his little sunshine daughter had come to see him.
"See you later, love," Zuko replied, smiling softly.
Katara and Asamiya sat alone at the table. Katara ate – albeit rather slowly – but Asamiya hardly touched her food. Katara felt obligated, for the sake of the whole family, to call her on it.
"Asamiya, dear," the Fire Queen said in a motherly voice, "you really should eat, sweetie. You know, as sick as he is, your daddy's very worried." Asamiya cocked her head to one side.
"Why?" she asked. "Uncle Iroh says you shouldn't worry when you're sick."
"Oh, love," Katara explained, "he's worried about you."
Asamiya nodded, her eyes widening in understanding; she had to eat, for her father's sake. She didn't want him to worry and get worse, so she forced herself to eat, even though she felt almost sick with a concern that she didn't quite understand the depth of.
As soon as she finished, little Asamiya, pushed her chair back, and ran off down the hall in the direction of her parent's room. Katara, also done, decided she, too, wanted to see her husband, so she walked off after her daughter to her room.
Opening the door, Katara was shocked to see Zuko asleep, and alone. Little Asamiya wasn't there. She frowned, and was about to go and look for her when Zuko started coughing in his sleep. Her attention now focused on her sick husband, Katara temporarily abandoned the search for her daughter and rushed to Zuko's side.
Gently, she held him up, rubbing his back, and whispering soft words of comfort. She bent some water to his mouth, and his lips parted and he swallowed it.
Golden eyes flickered slowly open, and Katara found herself gazing into those eyes, and suddenly, it seemed like the final battle again, when he'd nearly died to save her. But, at that time, his eyes had been bright, almost glassy. Now, they were dull. Silently, she picked up the compress that had slid from his forehead when she'd sat him up and put it back in its place against his burning skin. A faint, weak smile crossed his lips, but to Katara, that frail smile meant more than all the full-fledged grins he'd ever flashed her way.
"...katara..." he whispered, breathless from the coughing. And a certain something else. Even after six years of marriage, she could still make him blush and stutter at times, but the one thing that never changed; no matter what, his heart always beat faster when she was there.
"Yes, Zuko," she replied. "I'm here."
"Where's...Asamiya?" Katara looked away, not really sure that she should say tell him she didn't know quite where she was, but one look into his eyes, she just couldn't not tell him;
"I... I don't know."
"WHAT?!?!" Zuko's voice, though still hoarse and weak, rang out, and his eyes bore into Katara's, filled with worry and concern.
"Easy, Zuko," Katara soothed, in an attempt to keep her husband from doing some harm to himself. "You're sick, love," she reminded him, pushing the worried father back down amongst the blankets. The Fire Lord coughed again, but only once, and the added concern in katara that cropped up at the sound, lessened a bit. "You have to rest, love," she told him, stroking the hair out of his face.
"But, Asamiya —"
"...is going to be okay," Katara said, cutting him off, as she brought a hand to his flushed cheek. "I'll find her, Zuko. I promise, if she's in a situation, I'll find her."
Just then, the door opened a crack, and both Zuko and Katara turned to see their daughter's face poking around the corner of the door. Her golden eyes were large, and filled with concern, as she entered, slowly at first, then quicker, with more certainty when she saw her father smile. Quietly, she went around the side of the bed, and crawled up next to him, and handed him a card, a sheepish look on her
round face.
"I made this for you, Daddy," she whispered, looking away, with a slight blush.
Zuko looked down at the card. On the cover, there was a picture of three stick figures standing beneath a rainbow, one mush smaller than the other two, its 'hand' clasping the tallest's, who had a flame crown in his hair, and a thin beard. The third figure was clearly Katara. The smiles on the three faces made Zuko's heart melt. Slowly, the Fire Lord opened the card to see, on the first half of the inside of the card, the tallest stick figure lying in bed, with the smallest next to him, with the words 'Get well soon, Dady' written on it. And on the other inside face he saw more stick figures, of the smallest one from the front and the tallest hugging and laughing, and above them, there was another rainbow, and the words, 'I love you, Dady, Asamia.'
Golden eyes filled with tears of love as Zuko gazed down at the card his four-year-old daughter had made. He felt suddenly weak, and yet, stronger at the same time. The card fell from his shaking hands as tears fell from his eyes.
When little Asamiya looked up, her face fell at the sight of tears in her father's eyes. Tears of pain and rejection flooded into her own eyes, and she couldn't understand why her dad didn't like her card. Asamiya looked away, and, as she reached to take back the card her father clearly didn't want, the Fire Lord's hand grasped her wrist gently.
"Asamiya," he whispered softly, "thank you. Thank you, love. My sweet, dear Asamiya. You don't know how much this means, my darling." Zuko pulled Asamiya into his arms, and held her as tight as he could, love lending him strength when he was weak.
As she sat, enclosed in her father's loving arms, Asamiya realized, her father did like the card, and she couldn't have felt happier. But, then, as swiftly as it had come, the feeling of security disappeared as Zuko pulled away and started coughing again. And, once more, Katara held him up, so he could breathe, and pressed a cup of water to his lips, to sooth him as best she could, but Zuko just couldn't stop coughing. Then he felt small hands rubbing against back, and the hearts of both parents filled with pride, and Zuko had never felt more cared for, and loved. And he smiled, because he felt so much better all of a sudden...
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Yeah. Can you tell? I love cute endings. Review, please!