A/N:

Updates Every Monday

thank you to everyone who commented on the last chapter! I really appreciate your feedback and honesty. I hope that if you continue to read this story you won't be too disappointed. also, hope this chapter and everything to follow is what you've been hoping for!

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Sun filtered through the painted logo of the coffee shop's windows. The full shop buzzed with life and chatter. The whole place smelled like a roasty toasty paradise. The distinct aroma of melty cheese and warm tomatoes wafted around. The delicious smell of butter and sugar mixed like, well, butter and sugar.

A very, very frazzled woman stood frozen in the midst of the casual afternoon aroma.

Katara knew that face! It was akin to her worst nightmare, or a secret dream. She knew that man. Turning away quickly—

"Kat?"

Leaden dread settled to the bottom of her gut.

A gloved hand thumped against her shoulder and that voice was at her ear, excited, even breathy. "Kitty!"

The turn was in slow motion, breath froze in her lungs and her heart beat a quick tat-a-tat in her neck. Smiling down in surprised excitement was a scruffy stubbled chin and sharp black eyes. She knew that smile the same way she knew her husband's birthday or her brother's phone number. It was memorized; ingrained in the back of her mind where all the miscellaneous information seeped to. He had grown somehow, even though he had towered to begin with. She had to crane her neck back to meet his twinkling gaze.

Her vocal cords were stuck; they'd simply stopped working. With a mighty effort, Katara forced out a weak excuse of a laugh. The laugh was just as fake as she was unhappy to see him. And it sounded like it.

"Jet, Hi, crazy to run into you of all people. Um, it is you—isn't it?"

"Yes, I'm pretty sure I'm me."

Katara couldn't think of anything better to say.

Jet's gloved hand was still clapped down on her shoulder and the little stitched ridges of the leather pressed into her collarbone. His eyes were absolutely captivating. They glittered with familiar delight. The two of them just stood there and her world was frozen.

"That all you have to say?" He peered down, keeping eye contact.

"Wow, it sure is… crazy."

"I don't believe in coincidences."

It occurred to her that he was still holding onto her shoulder. His grip had tightened, though she wasn't sure when it had. Katara shrugged his hand off. He took a mini step backward, bumping into the person waiting behind him in line.

"Sorry, sorry."

The woman waved him off. He smiled and even though it hadn't been directed at her, Katara's heart skipped a little bahmp-a-bahmp-a-bahmp.

"Hey, you ordered yet?" He reconsidered. "Nah, you haven't. Me either."

That's when the

That's when the whole world came rushing back in full force. It imploded in her ribs and the bruising reality of the man standing in front of her swept through her chest up to her suddenly dry throat. She choked, covering her mouth. His hand had found its way onto her shoulder again. They both stared at his hand.

"Ah, sorry. Sorry. I'm just in shock a little bit." He laughed. "You can understand my... "

"Uh, it's my turn."

"Oh, yes."

She stepped up to the register but her mind was a mess of muffled thoughts.

.

Katara didn't know how she had gotten to be where she was.

She sat in a booth toward the back of the coffee shop. Facing her was a man she had not seen in at least ten years. Someone she had never expected to see again if she was being honest.

His hands were large. They engulfed hers.

"Is it really you? Am I dreaming or something? I can't believe this! I cannot believe that I am sitting across from Katara Nilak. You can't even imagine how many times I've thought I saw you in a crowd but every time it just turned out to be my head playing tricks on me."

He paused in his chatter. His voice was familiar in the same way a favorite pair of shoes is. His voice was also alien in the way a forgotten song's tune dances just out of reach.

"Hey. What—" One of his large hands clasped her left one. "What is this!"

She hadn't really been listening to him.

In her flush at running into him she had completely forgotten about—well about everything! Who he was. Who she was. Who sat between them even in this coffee shop.

He whistled, long. Breathy. "How long?"

She looked down at her hand.

He was referring to her twin rings. He took her hand in both of his, delicately selecting her ring finger. "And who is the lucky guy?"

She flushed, stuttering, "Oh. Um. Six years? I—"

"Six years!" He widened his eyes at her, and his smile was toothy again. "Where have I even been? Six years!" He whistled again. His finger was tracing the small diamond set into her ring. With the most delicate motion he had ever displayed, Jet slipped the rings from her finger in a fluid movement.

She yelped so loudly that several people looked around.

"Shush, I'm just looking." He held it to eye level. His expression was calm, even observational. He clicked the two rings together once, twice, and a third time. It was a purely mindless tick.

"Well, can I have it back?" Irritation even more familiar than his voice was beginning to creep up her neck. "Give it back to me Jet!" She reached across the table to snatch her rings back from him but he lifted them out of her reach.

"Alright, alright!" He patted her hand with the one not holding the rings.

"Jet—"

With a motion just as fluid and gentle as before, he slid the wedding band onto her index finger, and then the engagement ring. But he didn't let go of her hand. His hand still rested a top of hers.

"Thank you." She grit her teeth, anger flushing high in her cheeks and at the base of her neck.

"Sorry. Got a little distracted."

"How have you been Jet?" She itched to move his hand.

It was almost as if he sensed her irritation.

Jet's fingers stroked the exposed skin of her wrist.

She stared him down.

He drew little circular motions into the space between her thumb and index finger with his pinky.

"How have you been Jet?" She emphasized his name. You want to play this game? Her eyes asked.

It was almost as if his eyes twinkled with a response, I like this game. "You want to know how I've been the past decade? That's a long time to catch up on. How much time do you have?" He grinned deeper.

The circular motion was getting well beyond her nerves.

"I don't have anywhere to be—"

"Work—this is my lunch break. I need to get going soon."

"Really? It's not even..." He flipped his sleeve down to check the time, "2:18. You really have to get back?"

"Soon."

"Well in the meantime will it kill you to play catch-up? What were you asking me again?" He reversed the direction of his stroking finger.

"Do you mind?"

His eyes followed the direction of her glare. "Sorry. Habit." Grin.

It hadn't been.

He stopped the rotation of his finger but returned to his fascination with her rings. She couldn't remember a time she herself had fiddled with them this much. Not even when she had gotten the engagement ring at first.

He was twisting the ring around and around her finger. Over and over, the cool band of metal slid round her finger. "It's nice." He said.

"Thank you." She didn't mean it.

Although his touch was adding fuel to the flame that was her irritation, the feel of his skin was bringing up thoughts she did not want to examine.

College.

She did not want to think of college.

Shrouded in the blur of those memories was pleasure yes, but more prominent was the pain.

"What's he like , Katara?" A wolfish little smirk.

She slipped her hand from his. He only held on for a split second. "I really do have to be going Jet."

He shrugged, leaning back in the booth and crossing his arms behind his head to rest against them. "You're being difficult Kitty. Why do you always have to be so contrary?"

"I'm not being contrary!" Heat rose in her neck spreading up into her cheeks and lighting her eyes. "Do you think I'm some kind of bratty little kid? I'm married for heaven's sake!" She stood, wobbling just a bit, and shoved her ring hand in his face. "Did you manage to miss that?"

He caught her hand between his engulfing ones. And then, he stood with her. He towered.

There was displeasure in his eyes but it looked suspiciously like hurt. "I did notice."

"Yeah? And? I have to go."

She stormed from the shop, her bag swinging from her shoulder. She ignored the stares.

As she marched down the street her anger grew and grew. What a little idiot she was. Time had blended the hard edges of dysfunction to almost invisibility. Where the hard lines of their incompatibility had once been sharp enough to cut her, time had made the fuzzy lines look like puffy pastel clouds. He was like a hot poker on her skin. Together they were oil and water. A decade was much longer than she could have ever conceptualized.

How much she had forgotten...

Jet was the same person he had always been. He liked to get under her skin and he had all the cheat codes to push every single one of her buttons. She was still the little girl who took the bait.

After that first kiss in the rain she and Jet had dated off and on for a year and a half. In the fall he turned 18 they decided to wait for her to graduate. Looking back on it, the decision had been a surprisingly mature one for the juvenile pair. They kept in contact and called often. She was a silly teen but all the same, she had understood why he chose to date other women during their waiting period. It only hurt enough to maim.

On her eighteenth birthday, he showed up on her doorstep. He swept her up into his life again and everything was right. They were meant to be. Obviously.

She was always secretly afraid that he would grow tired of her. Could you really expect more from flighty people? All the same, Katara's dream was that someday he could find it in himself to settle down with her and maybe they could get married.

They dated for another year and this time there was no off and on.

She was careful not to mention marriage. The last thing Katara wanted was to scare him off. Jet never brought the subject up. Although she never shared her dreams with Jet, she confided them more than once in Sokka.

Her idiot of a brother was nothing if not ambitious and he decided on his own to get the "damn ball rolling". Taking matters into his own hands turned disastrous. Big Brother was not a subtle guy.

"So what are your intentions with my sister? Hasn't it been long enough of this casual dating thing?"

Jet naturally got defensive. "Whose business is that?"

When Katara found out she was upset to say the least. "Don't listen to my brother, he's a complete idiot! I don't expect that from you! I'm way too young to get married. We're both way too young for that."

"But you're expecting it in the long run."

"No—"

"You've been hiding this haven't you."

"No, I—"

"I guess it's time I was honest too. I'm leaving."

"Like, we're over?"

"No. Yes. I'm moving away and I'm not coming back." And he left without letting her explain.

The thing she had been so frightened of their entire relationship had happened just like that. Just the idea of commitment spooked him. If they had been older and Jet more mature maybe things would have gone differently. If Sokka hadn't interfered, maybe she would have someday gotten her dream. If this, if that, maybe.

At the end of the day, Katara had been left alone.

Katara only briefly dated after Jet. A childhood friend had stepped into her life to fill the void Jet left. Aang and she only were together for a few months. Jet had banged her pride up pretty bad. Although Aang promised that he didn't hold the breakup against her, they didn't really speak afterward. She and Sokka didn't speak for a while after that either. They made up before Christmas but it was mainly their father's doing.

Eventually, she graduated from college after moving around and looking for something to fix her broken heart. She found an interest in accounting as she pursued internships of her own. It wasn't that she had decided that she needed to prove herself if he ever came back. He'd moved on and she had done her best in turn. Somehow she found it comforting that she was independent like Jet wherever he had wandered to in the world.

Maybe someday—she would tell herself.

Maybe someday he would find her again.

And now he had.

The hurried scuffing of pavement caught her attention. Before she could register it, a hand was clamping down on her shoulder and someone was spinning her around. She yelped, struggling the hand off. The tall man pulled her into his chest and she kicked out.

"Katara, I'm sorry." Both of his hands held her in place so that she had to crane her neck back to look up at him. "I just want to talk."

She was taken aback. "Wha—"

"I'm sorry."

"Jet—"

"Please, I know you still have some time left on your lunch break. Can't you give me a chance?"

"You mean like the chance you didn't give me?"

His hands loosened their grip.

"You chose to leave okay? And I chose to marry someone else. It wasn't to get back at you and it wasn't because I was lonely. I don't need you back in my life. Okay? So let go." She pushed his hands away.

"I might be the same person but I know what I did back then was wrong. Katara, I was scared. That's why I left." It was so matter of fact. Blunt and painfully candid. His usual cool charm was subdued, but not missing. He offered up a placating shrug.

"Well, I'm sorry." She didn't hide the hate.

He leaned down and his mouth pressed into the corner of her cheek. His breath caught her ear and his hand at her waist burned.

"Come with me. Let's just go, be spontaneous like we used to."

"No."

"Come on Kitty."

"Jet, leave me alone."

"You make it sound so easy."

"It's obviously far too late for anything else."

"Is it?"

"What's the alternative?" There was nothing to stop her from just turning and walking away. She could push his hands off at any time. So, she cut with her words. "I don't need you to fail me again. Once was enough." It was as heartwrenching as it had been a decade before. Only this time she was the one to walk.

It took her a full thirty seconds to notice her phone buzzing in her suit jacket pocket. In a semi-daze, she pulled it out to swipe right on the little green icon. Her mouth was still parted in a soft little confused o.

"Hello?" It was Uncle Iroh.

Zuko woke blinking into the faded stripes of his pillowcase.

Something was off. Something was horribly wrong. He blinked into the warm pillowcase, still groggy from sleep. Something was not right… He rolled over and squinted at the ceiling, then turned his head to squint at the bedside table.

The bed was warm, but it was empty.

'Oh, that's right.' He said to himself. Katara hadn't come to bed.

But, that was also not what was wrong.

That's when it hit him.

He rolled over and off the side of the bed in his hurry to check the clock. His head knocked hard into the side of the bed frame. Wincing and grimacing and scrubbing his skull, Zuko pulled himself back up.

His phone's clock read 2:36. And it was daylight. His phone screen also had 3 missed calls from work, one from his Uncle's cell, and 2 unread text messages. Wednesdays were usually busy.

Never as busy as Saturday or Sunday, but they were usually busy.

Just then his phone rang. He dropped it in surprise. Katara's smiling contact photo flashed up at him from the floor.

"Hello—I—Katara?"

"Zuko?" Her voice was stranger than it had been even last night.

"What's wrong?"

"I just got a call from your uncle! He said they can't get a hold of you. Is something wrong?"

He stared at the floor in frozen disbelief. Glancing from the floor to his phone, he blanched. That was her number all right.

"Zuko?"

"Slept in."

"Is everything alright—" She seemed to realize how much that question didn't work. "Are you feeling okay—" That also seemed to stump her. She took a breath and tried again. "What happened?"

There was a twinge of guilt in her voice.

Almost unfamiliar.

He considered lying but chose to tell her the truth. "I don't know."

"Well, do you need me to come check on you? I… I hadn't gotten very far past the calling you part. I promised your uncle that I would swing by the house if you didn't pick up but now… I'm not sure."

He considered saying something along the lines of 'it's all good' but if he was being honest, it wasn't 'all good'.

"What if I need you to come here?" He whispered it so quietly that he knew she had not heard him.

"Urm, I didn't catch that?"

He imagined her having to hike all the way back to their apartment in the middle of the day with just a pair of dress shoes and an unfamiliar metro schedule. On second thought, he didn't even know how long it took her to travel home in the evenings. The notion of her inconveniencing herself in such a manner, plus the guilt at sleeping in on a weekday when he was scheduled, plus the fact that his Uncle had had to cover his shift on such short notice all crashed into him like a tidal wave. He sunk down into the shame and embarrassment.

Gloom rose up into his chest like a suffocating cloud of cotton.

Zuko placed his phone carefully on his knee. Shaking hands rose to cup his clammy face. His toes scrunched in the carpet. One, two, three. In. One, two, three. Out. In and out, his breath rose and fell and rose and—he pressed the phone back to his ear,

"Um, sorry. What did you just say?"

"Is it an emergency?"

"No," He winced into his still quivering hand. "I'll see you tonight."

"Do not go into work. Iroh insists."

.

Zuko dressed and walked to work. The sky was a soft blueish grey and a slight breeze ruffled his hair. He worked up a smile in preparation to see his uncle.

His jaw was tight from lack of practice.

When he pushed through the swinging door of the Jasmine Dragon he felt a rush of relief. Soothing warmth bloomed inside of him. The whole place smelled floral and spicy and the unmistakable sweetness of pastry filled his nose. There at the register leaned his wide-framed uncle.

Iroh was a large-bellied man with shoulder-length greying hair and dark sparkling eyes. He wasn't your "conventionally attractive" and he had missed out on the golden-eyed genes but his smile made up for everything. He was round and soft and welcoming.

Zuko made his way to the counter and around the register to his uncle.

"Zuko my son!" Large warm arms wrapped up and around his back giving him a firm squeeze.

"I'm so sorry uncle." His voice was muffled in Iroh's warm polo.

"Don't fret Zuko." Was followed by several firm pats and a soothing rub of his back. "It's good for your aging uncle to get up early from time to time. Keeps me limber."

Zuko blinked hard. "Thank you." He whispered.

Iroh let him go and stood back to get a better look. He smiled reassuringly and winked. In that moment Zuko was reminded of the one thing he had always known and would always know: his uncle was proud of him.

Iroh was pleased just to see him.

His uncle loved him. In that moment it was all that mattered. Comfort filled his chest, swelling wide and filling and full. Iroh's kindness was universal but he always reserved a special smile just for his nephew.

"My son, the next time you are not feeling well you should tell me. If you had let me know this morning or even last night I would have been all too pleased to step in for you."

In a misplaced attempt to dodge his shame, Zuko crouched behind the register and retrieved his visor. He pulled it down over his overgrown bangs. "Has it been busy?" He steeled himself for the answer.

No matter what Iroh said, he would feel guilt. If it had been a busy day they had needed him and he had been missing. If Iroh said no, Zuko would assume that he was lying to soothe his feelings. The mind was a funny thing. Zuko's mind was a troubled one and he found a way for every situation to end in lose-lose.

Iroh chuckled. He gave his nephew another firm pat on the back. "I told you not to fret. What will you gain from worrying over something that cannot be changed?" Iroh hooked his finger around the lip of Zuko's visor and pulled it off. He gave Zuko's bangs an affectionate swipe. "You need rest. Go back home."

"I want to help out here. It's not my day off!"

It wasn't exactly worry that crinkled Iroh's eyes. "You've been working very hard."

Not hard enough , his mind protested.

"Nonsense! What would we do without you? I depend so very deeply on you my son. That is why it is so important that you take good care of yourself."

Iroh would not hear anything else after that. He sent Zuko back on his way with a little paper box filled with pastries. Before he hurried Zuko out the door, Lan walked through. She was mildly concerned but mostly seemed busy. He made an effort to say he was sorry anyway.

"It's okay. These things happen every so often."

As Iroh wandered into the back, Zuko stalled. "Hey Lan, how is your husband doing?"

She smiled indulgently. "He's doing well." Her voice was lightly accented, soothing.

"So vacation went well?"

"Yes. He liked the snow. It was a bit too cold for my taste though."

Zuko fiddled. "Skiing mid-summer—that must have been weird. Huh."

She laughed. Her quick fingers made quick work of resetting the napkin dispenser. "I stayed in the lodge and read. Also drank lots of tea."

"Can I ask, well, um—"

"Yes?" She quirked a look at him.

"Do you and Amani ever fight?"

Lan was a couple years younger than him but she had been married almost the same length of time as he and Katara had been.

She quirked her lips again, hands stilling as she set the bundle of straws down on the counter. "Yes."

"And… how do the two of you make up after?"

"I try to apologize—mostly. He'll get mad at me for it though."

"He gets angry when you apologize?"

"He says I tend to take too much blame onto myself."

"Oh."

"Why do you ask?"

He resumed his fiddling.

She didn't press. "If it was a bad fight you should resolve it quickly. The longer the hurt drags on for the less likely you'll be to forgive her."

.

Zuko trudged back up the city walk with his hands in his pockets and the plastic bag swinging from his wrist. It was getting closer to 4:00 than to 3:00. He felt the unmistakable weight of a wasted day pushing down on his shoulders. It took very little to bring him down.

He considered trekking up to Katara's work so that they could maybe travel home together.

He stopped by a small convenience store to actually think through the logistics. Only a scraggle of people passed him. Who except for him had time to idle on a Wednesday afternoon?

No, he decided.

He would wait for her to get back in her own time.

When Katara returned from her lunch break, her shared cubicle was full. She tried not to let the prickle of irritation become anything more than that. Iris was leaning on Suki's desk as she fiddled with her hair. They were deep in conversation but Katara couldn't hear what it was they were talking about.

She moved to her desk in a daze. She felt… there wasn't a word for the physical feeling that covered her from head to foot. There wasn't a description for how she felt. Or, if there was, it was out of her reach.

She sat.

She stared at her computer screen.

She blinked.

Dirty.

That was how she felt. But it was more than guilt, it was closer to anger. Her skin crawled where he had touched her. Her hands itched and her waist buzzed, her cheek absolutely stung. Little guilt ants crawled over her back and down her chin and up her shoulders. Even with the creeping feelings of guilt, a stronger sensation of outrage was surfacing. What had given him the idea that he could touch her? Why did Jet feel so entitled to the body and personal space of a woman who he had left a decade before?

Although it might have been more correct—morally—to feel ashamed because she was a married woman, Katara was less concerned with the fact that she was married and more concerned with the violation she felt.

She flinched at the image: Jet grabbing her from behind and swinging her whole body around to face him like some kind of rag doll. It had been humiliating. The cozy fantasy of young Jet was gone. In its place was the reality of the pushy and demanding person he had always been.

Winding her hair up on top of her head with stiff fingers, she fixed it in a messy bun. The screen in front of her glowed softly as if it beckoned her to return to work so she could forget the lingering feel of another man's hands on her body. She didn't want to forget. All her anger from the past couple days was gathering steam again and this time it was aimed at Jet. It felt so good. Her blood was heating and she had no qualms about hating Jet. He had actually hurt her.

She longed to shout at someone and it was the cold truth that fighting with her husband felt like kicking a lame puppy. Jet on the other hand was fair game! Strangest of all to her was how quickly the shock of seeing him again had gone. Now she was just furious!

"Katara."

Suki and Iris were watching her from across the space between desks.

"Hm?"

"You alright?" Suki asked.

Iris was watching her like a hawk. Her small mouth pressed up into a quizzical little squiggle.

"Yes."

The women exchanged glances.

"You seem a little," Suki made a wave-like gesture with her hands, "out of it."

"It's nothing." Katara's nostrils flared again. She tried to play it off as a heavy sigh. She tried to play off the sigh by scooting in her chair for a more comfortable angle. Theatrics were not her greatest strength.

"Beifong is looking for you by the way." Suki noticed the long draw of breath and raised one of those perfectly manicured eyebrows. "Boy trouble again?"

Katara opened her mouth to answer but before she could, a much different voice interrupted them.

"Jun." The voice was commanding and it carried. Co-workers from across the office glanced over at them.

Toph Beifong, their Human Resources administrative assistant, shoved between their desks. Without any grace, she slammed a stack of documents down on Suki's desk. "Married women shouldn't have boy troubles." The next bit was unmistakably directed at Katara, "What the hell did you do? Zuko wasn't at work today. They said he called in sick but his uncle was there and he told me that they couldn't get a hold of him."

"I—why is that any of your business?" Katara steeled herself from shrinking back, trying to find her anger.

Toph wasn't a tall woman but her aura towered. Even though her bright eyes were fixed on a spot lower and farther to the left of Katara, the intensity still made her cringe. "And that's not all, Jun. I happened to hear that you were having a very interesting conversation with a man on your break. It was a touchy conversation. Do you have anything to say for yourself, or am I the victim of malicious workplace gossip?"

"What are you implying Beifong." Katara was stiff, her voice was even. She kept her tone as neutral as she could help but steel was creeping in.

"Actually Beifong," Suki snapped, "She is correct, that's none of your business."

Toph simply tapped a thick finger into her elbow and sneered. She gave Katara's direction a particularly nasty look. "Actually Kyoshi, it is my business."

"And how is that?" Suki pursed her lips into a fake smile.

"I don't think that is any of your business."

"Oh?"

The air was stiff and the two women facing off did little to hide their animosity.

"What was that?" Suki flicked a lock of hair from her shoulder, "Do I hear the sound of jealousy? Is it that you like Zuko or that you hate his wife?"

"Don't be ignorant. I'm doing something called being a good friend. Something some of us in this room should try harder to do in our own lives. And you know what?" The next bit was not for Suki. "You can't blame Zuko because your daddy doesn't love you. Guess what, his dad doesn't care about him either but you don't see him walking around being an ass to everyone he interacts with. The truth is that a lot of dads are terrible but I—no one can blame their problems on their parents. Grow up."

No one spoke.

The deafening silence of an entire office floor resounded in the still room. Not a shuff of paper or a dry cough could be heard. There was all-encompassing dead silence but for the soft puff of the building's air conditioning system.

Heat and rekindled outrage boiled up in Katara's whole body. She was standing, facing Beifong with her own arms clenched tightly over her chest. Her heart hammered away in her throat.

Mark marched over, he exchanged a few low words with Toph and the two of them moved off to the HR end of the office. After what looked like an unpleasant dialogue for their superior, the two returned. Short and sweet.

Toph was glowering and Mark was not his usual assured sternness. He looked uncomfortable. Nervous even.

Toph crossed her arms, and then she cleared her throat. Through gritted teeth, she said, "Excuse me, that was unprofessional of me. I apologize Jun. Kyoshi. Zorita. I'm off to file paperwork for my own inappropriate workplace conduct." Her sarcasm was blunt. Then, before any of the three women could comment, Toph marched off with her cane sweeping and long dark hair swinging behind her.

Mark cleared his throat and took a moment to orient himself in the moment. He combed a hand through his greying dust-colored hair. "Ladies." And then he stalked off. He was still missing a bit of his pretentious aura.

"Now that the ogre is gone, what happened?"

Two pairs of curious, excited eyes stared back at her.

"Nothing happened." Katara was adamant.

She met one disappointed look and one skeptical.

"We saw you with a man earlier." Iris was blunt. "And he did a little more than nothing to you."

"Wh—what do you mean!"

"He sure was friendly with your ear. Hands were friendly too."

"That's—that's—he's just an old acquaintance that I ran into."

"Mhhm." Iris gave Suki a look.

"You're not the only person who steps out for lunch," Suki said. "But you sure do seem to be the only person getting some on their break."

"When was the last time you had sex?" Iris asked.

Katara choked on her breath. She almost wished their stoney HR was back. Katara really didn't want to be having this conversation, especially not right now.

It had been slow and excruciating, but the best they had had in a long time.

And yet, she lay awake in his arms. Katara lay awake listening to his soft snores and the whisper of his breath against her temples. His chest fell in rhythm with his breathing.

Thoughts had wrestled in her mind, two or three of them grappling with each other. Blows were exchanged, and confusion and anger were the ones winning most of the time.

Her frustration had stemmed from the same place even a few short months ago. He got to interact with people he loved every day! And she spent all her time in the office or buried in her phone at home. Because… because… no one wanted to spend time with her.

Katara had wrapped her arms tighter around his middle. They lay there snuggled in the soft covers. He slept soundly and content, while she was restless and uncomfortably hot in her clueless husband's embrace.

For a very long time, she had sweat and fret until she finally drifted to sleep.

Grappling for something to say, Katara landed on: "That's not really something I'm comfortable talking about…" She grimaced, looking down at her feet.

Iris was beyond disappointed and ready to pursue the topic even more now.

It was Suki who shut it down. There was sympathy in her voice as she changed the subject. Her hair appointment had apparently not gone to plan. As Katara began to space out again, Suki began painting all the juicy details of her own story. A rooky stylist and a grumpy cab driver were the two antagonists of the tale.

That was when the hawk showed his face. He seemed to have recovered well enough, though he was still looking paler than usual. (An accomplishment.)

Mark was upon them in seconds. "Ladies! Ladies! I've been hearing quite the commotion from your corner of the office this afternoon. What do we always get to talk about with each other? What is that lovely topic this side of our office just keeps forgetting about?"

From behind their desks a fourth voice joined in for the chorus. "Gossip should be reserved for breaks and any other time that is not company time!"

Mark was getting sick. That had to be the reason. Maybe he was just sick of the hassle he always got from the group of women. Or, maybe he was still recovering from his little chat with Toph. He fixed each of them with a last glare and then stalked back off to his office.

As soon as he was out of sight, Suki and Iris began whispering again.

"I was expecting much worse!" Iris stage whispered from behind her hand.

"Soon he's going to be telling us we can't pee on company time." But when Katara didn't laugh or even answer, Suki left her alone.

Shadows lay heavy against the kitchen floor. The yellow light of the overhead lamp did very little to dispel the falling evening. It was past 5:00pm and Zuko slouched at the kitchen table. He was bending over his phone as he tried to stifle his laughter. He didn't want to miss a word Toph said.

"He's really going to make me file a report." She practically growled.

"I've never felt more like injustice was served."

She snorted into the phone with cheerful gusto. "That's the downside to Human Resources. Drama is your job but you're not supposed to be part of the drama. Even when you really really want to."

Zuko smiled in answer, pleased with himself. She was in a surprisingly upbeat mood considering the circumstances. "Should you be talking to me? Katara says there's a strict policy against non-work related calls."

"Oh, there is."

He grimaced and slid into the half-pulled-out kitchen chair. "And you are a stickler for rules."

She couldn't take that one and he pulled the phone from his ear, wincing at her raucous laughter.

Emboldened by her light mood, he went straight in for the kill. "You know how you were going to call your parents back the other day?"

There was a long, long, long pause. "… I never said that Jun."

"I mean, you know how they invited you for dinner?"

Another pause, though this one was shorter. "And you're going where with this?"

It was his turn to pause.

"Zuko," Her tone sounded pained. "You must have missed the very important part of that conversation where I said that I would no way in hell be accepting a dinner invite from that woman."

"...not in so many syllables…"

"What are you thinking? It's probably a terrible idea. I promise it is."

He didn't respond. Instead, he dug his calf into the wooden leg of the kitchen table. Hard. Until it stung. Then he released the pressure with an intake of breath. She was still waiting for him to respond.

And he knew that she would wait all evening.

"I… it's not anything special. I was just thinking about things. What you said at the Dragon stuck with me."

"Don't do it."

"I'm not going to call—"

"Whatever you're thinking about is a B-A-D idea."

"I promise you I'm not going to call my dad."

"No. You are not going to call your dad."

"I didn't say I was going to."

"If you're going to do anything at all potentially poor for your health, you should confront your wife about her—" But whatever passion had gripped Toph to start her sentence abruptly faded. She would not continue.

He did his best to coax her into giving him the end of her thought but she brushed him off.

"It's not important."

"It sounded like a real concern."

"I shouldn't have said anything. It's her responsibility to—have you ever thought about... getting a divorce?"

"What?"

"I'm pretty sure you heard me." But she sounded uncertain.

"You really think she would ask me for one?"

"This isn't about her."

"This has everything to do with Katara."

"No. No, it really doesn't. I tell you this because you're very important to me Zuko. Your wife expects so much out of you when she gives so little in return. It is not your responsibility to cater to her trauma. At least… not until she recognizes yours."

"You don't understand Toph."

"Look," she sighed and he could just imagine her pinching the bridge of her nose. "I understand how you feel. I love my mom. She means well… I think that's what makes it so hard for me. She means well but all she can do is hurt me. If she really cared, wouldn't she leave my dad? Or, maybe, talk to him about what he's done? Or maybe do more than demand change from me?"

"Toph. I just keep making everything worse. I only trauma dump on you." He was digging his knee so hard into the table leg that he almost couldn't feel anything but the smarting.

"Stop apologizing. It doesn't trigger me to listen to your problems, honestly, it just makes me sad. Well… it kinda makes me feel better about the decisions I've made. If I hadn't made the ones I have, I might still be stuck in the same situation as you."

"I've just been really tired recently."

"Yeah…" She sighed. "I get that."

They sat in silence for a little longer. He stood. His shin stung from digging it into the wooden leg. "Hey, Toph?"

"Yes?"

"Are you alright?"

"Sometimes."

"I'm sorry."

"I know you are, kid. I know you are."

"Do you think talking to your mom would really help you?" He quickly added, "Not me—not—I mean you personally! Would it be beneficial to you?"

"I… don't think it would be."

"Not now, or as in not ever?"

Toph let out a breath that was just a bit of a laugh. "That's actually a good question. Unfortunately, I don't have an answer. Maybe I never will have an answer. I love my mom so much and that's why she hurts me so much. I've found that distancing myself from her is the best way to protect myself. If I don't expect change from her, I can't be disappointed when I don't get it."

"Thank you. Thank you for telling me."

"You're welcome Zuko."

"Sometimes I wonder if there's anything wrong with you."

"Sorry, we can't all be perfect."

He wished he could return her smirk but of course, he couldn't even see her.

"Aaand maybe you should know that your wife was talking to a guy on lunch."

That was by far the strangest goodbye he had received from her.

"Take what you will from that. It was all the rage at work." There was something else she was hiding but it was obvious that she had said what she had meant to and he would not be successful in extracting anything else from her.

After she hung up, he still could hear her words playing over and over again in his head.

What was he supposed to make of that cryptic warning?

Katara spoke with a man at work. That wasn't exactly noteworthy news and yet it had been gossip. He couldn't think of any reason that she had brought it up.

Unease began to crawl up his spine.

Was Katara that unhappy with him? Was that why she had stopped trying? Did his wife want a different man?

And then the worst question of all occurred to him.

Had she already found someone else?

Nausea brought on purely by anxiety roiled in the pit of his stomach. Bending to catch his breath, he knuckled his eyesockets so hard he saw white. He tried the whole deep breaths in and out thing for thirty seconds but he knew before he even began that it would be useless.

Zuko stood and swiped his cell from the table with trembling fingers.

He shook as he opened his contacts and scrolled down the list.

The ringing only lasted a few seconds.

"Yes?" The smooth voice asked.

Zuko opened his mouth and then closed it. The nausea was intensifying. With a great effort, he started, "Uncle Zhao. It's um—it's Zuko."

A/N:

thank y'all for me! after posting the last chapter, I wanted to make sure the whole thing was finished and done! and my mental health hasn't been the best and I've been very busy at work and all the usual reasons. I'm just so excited to post it all for you! please enjoy the best you can. oh and, drink a glass of water for me! or go to bed if it's late.

soooooooooo, what did you think of Jet? I hope he was himself and not just the generic-bullying-antagonist in a fanfic love triangle! he's starting to grow on me.