Thok

Thok. Thok. Thok.

"He's good."

Zuko turned at the sound of her voice, finding her standing above him, leaning against the same tree he was. He folded his arms, turning his gaze back to his nephew.

"Yes. Mai's a good teacher. And I think she likes having a student, although she'd never admit it."

Thok. The blade struck the center of the target, quivering.

"Seems to me like she'd never admit to anything."

"Mai's like that."

Thok. Another knife, right beside the first one. They could both hear Aku's cheers.

"But you love her for it, I assume."

"Of course."

Thok.

"He's started calling me Auntie Toph, you know."

"Really?" He turned to look up at her. "I approve. You've been very kind to him, and he likes you."

She bristled, but more out of habit than anything else. "Don't need your approval, Sparky. And I like him too."

Zuko had grown accustomed to her biting remarks, so he just smiled quietly and watched. Mai stood behind Aku, her black hair beginning to fall out of its bun and blowing in the breeze. Aku had pouches of knives at his belt, and was throwing them one by one at several targets set up a few yards away at the treeline. Mai looked pleased, but not so anyone but Zuko and Aku (who had become quite good at reading her) would notice.

Aku raised a knife, prepared to throw—then Mai took him by the wrist, corrected the placement of the blade between his fingers, and let him go.

Thok. Bull's-eye.

"Haru says I should try to forgive you."

The words were so quiet, Zuko wasn't even sure he had heard her correctly. He kept his gaze firmly fixed on Mai and replied: "Did he? I'm surprised he's the forgiving type."

"The army has changed him, I think," she said, sitting down next to Zuko. It was the closest she had gotten to him since his arrival a week prior. "Now that he's got an outlet for his anger against the Fire Nation, he's a lot more peaceful in other respects. He isn't the Haru I knew."

"And you don't like it?"

She was silent for a moment. The breeze washed over them both, rustling the leaves above their heads. The silence could almost be called companionable: Zuko waiting politely; Toph thinking deeply, for once her anger not directed at him.

"Sometimes I felt like we were kindred spirits," she said with a sigh. "We were so much alike. Now, with him so calm and…and normal…it makes me feel like I'm not normal."

"You aren't."

"Thanks, Sparky. Thanks a lot."

Her sarcasm made him smile. "Since when have you cared about what people think about you?"

She pounded the ground angrily, a scowl appearing on her face. (Zuko felt the ground tremble beneath him.) "Since I became an icon for those mindless refugees."

Thok. "You know, most people would like being an icon."

"It's the pressure that kills me," she grumbled. "The generals all look to me for help, but I know nothing about war—just fighting. The refugees all think I should be president of Lingsi because I was a friend of the Avatar, but I know nothing about politics—just earth. It seems like they expect more of me than I can give."

He watched her, sifting dirt through her fingers, staring sightlessly at Mai's thin figure, graceful movements and her faint, proud smile.

Thok.

"Even Haru," she continued. "I thought I might be free from that pressure at home, but he's always telling me things…Telling me how I shouldn't be so angry, how I should control my temper, how I should handle this person and that person…how I should forgive you." Toph leaned back, letting her head strike the wood of the tree behind her. Zuko didn't even see her wince. "It reminds me of living with my parents. Expectations, limits, pressure…There was a reason I left with the Avatar."

"I know," Zuko said quietly. "You always feel like pretending is the only way you'll satisfy them."

"Yeah," she said, her voice just as soft. There was a moment's pause, then: "Pretending sucks."

He chuckled—that was the Toph he knew. "Yes it does."

Thokthokthok. Three, in quick succession, all striking the center of the target. Aku cheered and threw his arms around Mai; Zuko applauded with pride while Toph whooped loudly beside him, laughing.

-x-x-

"They love each other, don't they?"

Haru glanced up at Aku in surprise, then turned to follow the young boy's gaze. Out the window, Zuko and Mai were walking by the edge of the forest, holding hands. Mai was leaning into Zuko's shoulder, and Zuko was speaking quietly to her.

"Yes," Haru replied. "They love each other very much."

Aku nodded, toying with the white linen curtains surrounding the window that billowed in the breeze. "That's what I thought." There was a moment of silence, then: "Do you love someone, Haru?"

The earthbender started, fumbling with the large pebble he had been holding in his hands—and shaping. "Why do you ask?" he inquired, regaining his grip on the rock.

Aku shrugged. "I just wanna know. Do you?"

Haru opened his mouth—then closed it again. "I did love someone once," he said at last. "She was a girl I met in the Fire Nation when I was still with the Avatar."

"I thought you hated the Fire Nation," Aku said innocently. Haru looked up with a kind smile.

"I did. I still do, a little bit. But she was very pretty, and very kind."

"What was her name?"

"Iza," he answered with a sigh. "She owned the inn where we stayed for a few days."

"What did she look like?"

Haru chuckled, leaning back on his hands, the pebble quite forgotten. "You're a curious little boy, aren't you?" Aku nodded happily, making Haru laugh again. "All right, all right…she had straight black hair. She always put it up in a bun in the morning, but by the time she finished working the tables and the reception desk in the inn, some of her hair fell down to frame her face. She had a very pretty face…eyes the color of a sunset."

Aku tilted his head to one side. "Why didn't you marry her?"

"Because marriage doesn't work like that," Haru replied sadly. "It would have been very hard for me to marry her."

"Why?"

"She was a Fire Nation citizen. I was with the Avatar, working to bring down her Fire Lord. If she knew who I was, what I was doing in her country…" He trailed off, his gaze turning to the window, where Mai and Zuko were still visible in the distance. Aku regarded Haru with sadness for a few moments, then said, simply:

"Oh."

Haru sat up and began shaping the large pebble again with his earthbending. If he did it right, it would turn out to be a nice long blade, for a glaive of some sort or a spear. Hopefully it would someday adorn the weapon of a non-bending citizen.

Then, without warning, Aku continued with his questions. "Does Toph love somebody?" he asked.

"Toph is very hard to read," Haru replied without looking up, his fingers pressing against the rock in different places. "I know she loved Sokka when we were with him and the Avatar."

"The one at the North Pole. With the wife and child."

"Yes. That one. I don't think she's loved anyone since, but like I said: it's hard to tell, with her."

"Like Mai."

He glanced up. "What do you mean?"

"You can't really tell what she's thinking sometimes. You have to know her real good."

"Yes, that sounds about right." He looked down at his rock again, then added: "She wasn't always like that. She used to be very open with us—with all of us. We always knew what she was thinking, because she would tell us. Now…with Aang gone…she's a little more closed off."

"She's hurting," Aku pointed out. Haru nodded.

"Aang was a very good friend of hers. I'd say she's hurting a lot. All of us are."

"I'm sorry."

"It's all right."

Aku pulled on the ends of the curtain he was holding, swinging it around for a while. Then: "How did he die?"

Haru froze. Uh-oh. There had to be a good way to answer this. Obviously, he couldn't tell him the truth: at least not the whole truth. Zuko would be devastated—Aku would be devastated. Haru didn't even know if Aku would believe him if he told the real story. Most likely not, he reasoned. The child worshipped his uncle. It seemed to have a good effect on Zuko, having someone admire him. In Haru's opinion, it brought out the best in the scarred prince.

"It's a very long story," Haru began slowly. "And a bad one. Aang had a friend—he was a friend to all of us, really. All of us in the gang." Aku gripped the curtain, leaning forward; he was visibly hanging on to every word. "Then, when it came time to face the Fire Lord, Aang succeeded. He killed Ozai. And right after he did it, right after he dealt the fatal blow—our friend killed Aang."

Aku gasped. "Why?" he demanded. "Why would he do that if he's your friend?"

"Someone had promised him," Haru replied, "that if he killed the Avatar, he would regain his royalty: the royalty that had been taken away from him. That someone was very evil, and very persuasive…and our friend fell for her tricks." He paused for a moment, then continued, in a softer voice: "But…I think he's sorry. I think he's very, very sorry. It's hurting him too, you know, to know that he killed a friend. To know that he made a very, very big mistake."

"Very, very, very big."

"But people make mistakes," Haru said, looking up at him. "You've made mistakes before, haven't you? When you accidentally say something to hurt a friend?" Aku nodded. "Well, it's kind of the same thing. You don't mean to hurt them, and you don't want to hurt them, and you always regret it after you do it. So I think our friend is sorry he killed Aang, and I—for one—forgive him."

"Did he get his royalty back?" Aku asked earnestly, eyes wide.

He sighed. "Yes. He got what he was promised."

Aku sank back to his original sitting position, still gripping the curtain in both hands, crumpling the fabric. "It's still sad," he said quietly. "Even if he is sorry." Haru looked down.

"Very sad. That's why we're hurting—all of us." Aku nodded in understanding, looking back out the window to where Mai and Zuko were returning. Mai had a faint smile on her face, as did Zuko, and they now had their arms around each other as they walked.

"Does Teo love anybody?" Aku asked suddenly. Haru's mouth quirked in a small smile.

"Do you promise to keep a secret?" he asked the small prince, looking up at him through his lashes. Aku grinned.

"Yeah."

-x-x-

Something was missing—that's what woke Teo up. He wasn't quite sure what that 'something' was, at first. It was dark; the crickets outside were chirping loudly beneath the rustling of leaves in the forest, and the air was almost cold. Teo took a blanket from beside his pallet and wrapped it around his shoulders before hoisting himself up into his wheelchair. He had remembered what was missing.

Her breathing.

He wheeled silently into the living room, finding her exactly where he had expected to—hunched over on a stool in front of the fire, staring into the flames. But as silent as he was, she felt him move even before he had gotten out of bed.

"Shouldn't you be asleep?" she whispered irritably.

"I could ask you the same question," he replied as he approached, completely unfazed by her tone. "It's late. Almost morning, I'd say."

"Yeah well…"

He rolled up next to her, peering at her face. Flickering in the firelight, it was impossible to read. "Toph, is something wrong?" he asked quietly. She bristled, hunching over even more. Her reply was brusque.

"I just couldn't sleep, that's all."

"Last time you said that, you had been having nightmares about Aang's death."

She sighed, and all the fight seemed to drain from her with it. "I don't really want to talk about it, Teo," she whispered. Teo watched her for a moment, watched her stare into the fire without seeing it, watched the pain flicker behind her pale eyes like the fire itself—

But he didn't say a word. Instead, he took the blanket from around his shoulders and draped it over hers. She accepted it without a word, brushing his fingers with hers as she did so. "Thanks, Three-Wheels," she said. He just smiled shyly.

"You're welcome, Bigfoot."

They sat in a comfortable silence for a few minutes, calmly watching as the flames slowly sank and withered.

"You didn't ask," Toph said suddenly. Teo glanced at her.

"I didn't ask what?"

"You didn't ask why I couldn't sleep."

"You said you didn't really want to talk about it."

"I know, I'm just…surprised. That you didn't ask anyway."

"I figured I wouldn't get an answer out of you if I asked anyway," he said with a chuckle. She gave a half-hearted laugh of her own, although it seemed sincere.

"True."

Any other man would have asked at that moment. Any other man would have demanded to know, begged her to tell him—

But Teo knew exactly how to get answers out of Toph. So he stayed pleasantly mute, and waited.

He didn't have to wait long.

"It was Sokka," she burst out softly. "I had a nightmare about him."

Teo rested a hand on her shoulder. "Was it bad?" he asked, purposefully avoiding any direct question such as 'What was it about?' He had been around Toph long enough to know that those kind of questions only made her pull away.

She nodded. "I think…I think he was drowning," she said uncertainly. "He was beneath the ice, and I was on top of it. He was shouting something at me—something I couldn't hear. Suki was there with a baby…she was crying. I tried to shout to her, to get off the ice, but she wouldn't listen to me. She just…sat there, sobbing." Her voice broke, and when she continued, she sounded choked. "I think…I think I was crying too. I knew he was going to die, I just knew it. But I couldn't do anything. I was pounding on the ice, shouting for help…"

Teo remained silent, although he thought he heard his own heart cracking in his chest. She still cared for Sokka—she still loved him. Even after he was married to Suki, even after he had a child with her…

Then again, Toph had never been one to give up easily.

Beside him, she was rubbing her eyes furiously, audibly restraining sobs. "Then he was just…gone. He sank, and I couldn't see him anymore. Then Suki was gone too, and I was alone on the ice…I was shouting and screaming for someone to hear me…"

He made an instant decision—it didn't matter if she still loved the water tribe boy. He wasn't here now, was he? No. Teo was here, and Toph was crying in front of him, not Sokka.

Teo gently pulled her towards him, and she rested her cheek on his chest. "I'm not crying," she said angrily, although she didn't fight his embrace when he wrapped his arms around her. "I'm not."

"You aren't?" Teo asked lightly. "Oh, okay. 'Cause if you were, I would forget about it in the morning."

"You would?"

"Absolutely."

A noise escaped her that was somewhere between a laugh and a sob—then it just melted into sobs. Teo held her while she cried her heart out into his shirt, and gently carried her back to her pallet on his wheelchair when she fell asleep in his arms.