A/N:

have a bonus chapter!

Katara arrived in time to find Zuko setting the table. He had made dinner. There was lots of garlic.

He had made a whole side dish of caramelized garlic. As she stood in the doorway shrugging her jacket and then her shoes off, he explained in far too many apologetic words that he'd seen it made in a youtube video and had wanted to try it out.

She dropped her jacket and briefcase at the door. "Zuko, are you feeling better?" She inched into the kitchen, padding on socked feet.

He blinked at her.

She came to stand gingerly by him. Her words felt wrong on her tongue.

He had not mentioned that just the night before she had said she was done pretending. She didn't mention it either. Even so, it hung between their bodies unspoken.

He shrugged casually and looked away from her. "I'm feeling better than I was earlier."

She didn't know whether or not this was truth from him. Zuko gave no further explanation. She let the issue go.

It was another silent dinner. Only this time was tenser than any they had shared before.

She wolfed down dinner and she was so hungry that she didn't even notice what it was she was eating. She'd been so distracted by Jet that afternoon that she had forgotten to get lunch after all.

Daddy issues? Daddy issues? Katara did not have daddy issues. She loved her father and, sure, it was disappointing that he didn't have time to visit but that was life. Sokka never visited either. He had stopped calling a year or two ago. If she was being honest, it hurt.

She hurt.

Katara was young: in the grand scheme of her life. With no family of her own and a husband that she resented filling her uneventful days, what exactly did she have to look forward to? It was such a depressing thought that she instantly tamped down on it.

No.

No.

Zuko was clearing his throat. She glanced up. How long had he been trying to catch her attention?

He looked beyond uncomfortable. "Hey, uh, Kat?"

"Yes?" She looked up from her dinner, fork halfway to her lips.

"Well, uh, I wanted to ask you something."

"What?"

"Well…" He looked down at his half-untouched plate of rice and greens and tofu. "I…"

"Whatever it is, you can tell me. There's no need to beat around the bush."

He looked her straight in the eye, cleared his throat and said—"Toph called me this afternoon. She wanted to ask how things have been. You know how she is, Katara. She told me that you'd been talking to a guy she didn't know? I—well, she didn't sound happy. You know how Toph is. She's always blunt and straight to the point and forward." He grimaced fondly at that but continued, "But the thing is, she didn't say much."

"Oh?" Her lips were a tight line.

"Did something happen?"

Her face flamed. "No." She snapped. "Why would you think that?"

"Uh. Um, you know that we've been…" He struggled for a word, searching, shuffling some of the rice with his chopsticks. "Distant recently. Has something happened?"

"No."

"Oh, that's good."

"Thank you for checking in on me. I'll be sure to tell Toph how much I appreciate her meddli—her concern."

They fell into silence. He was still shuffling the rice around, not eating. With his chopsticks he began to mush the soft garlic across his plate.

She looked at him.

Really looked. Under his eyes were deep dark circles. He was exceptionally pale. His hair was long and a bit unkempt. It fell into his eyes and hung down around his ears and was a fringed mess. It had been a long time since she had noticed the length of his hair. She blinked away the traitorous image of a different face speckled in stubble.

That face brought her no joy.

"There's one other thing." If it was possible he sounded even more on edge than before. "What are you doing two Fridays from now?"

"Zuko." She met his eyes this time, just the tiniest bit frustrated. "Have I done anything in the last two years on a Friday? We're married for heaven's sake. If I was going out wouldn't it be with you?"

"Katara, there's something very important I'd like to talk to you about." He paused in what he was about to say, frowning. "I only meant—Someone's coming over for dinner." He was gripping the side of the table in that concerning way he often did.

Looking up from the whites of his knuckles to his eyes she asked, "Who?" Katara was genuinely interested.

"Zhao."

Her mouth was suddenly dry. "Your uncle?"

"He's NOT my uncle."

"He's coming HERE?"

"Uh," He paused. "Why?"

She pursed her lips.

"Why?" He repeated, more forcefully.

"Oh, you know…" She didn't go on.

"Family is super important to you and I thought—" He couldn't go on. "I thought… Zhao's basically family right? He might be interested to hear how you're doing. Maybe you can invite Sokka along?" He finished lamely.

"Isn't there somewhere else we can go? Maybe, out to eat?"

He waited for her to look away but she saw it out of the corner of her eye anyway. Zuko took in a steadying breath. Another. Then, he responded. "You don't want to invite him here? That's what you're telling me."

"I think…" She chose her next words carefully. "It would be better to eat out. Go somewhere really really nice. Zhao is a very particular person and he… has very particular taste."

Katara stared pointedly at his clenched fist pressed into the tabletop. He chewed on his top lip. It looked painful. She reached out and jabbed him in the elbow.

He flinched, biting down in surprise on his lip.

"Don't bite yourself."

"Katara," He sucked on his lip, choosing his words just as carefully as she had chosen hers. "I'm not asking you to pretend that you're not mad."

He reached across the table, avoiding both their plates. Gripping her hands so tightly in his slick sweating ones that she had to look up into his face, he grimaced. Her irritation cooled at the hard frown and scrunched eyebrows. He squeezed her hands tighter.

She winced.

He let go. Then he folded his hands against the wooden table and looked away. "You're still mad."

"Yes."

"What do you want me to do to make you happy?"

It was so blunt and completely unexpected that she didn't have an answer.

He waited patiently, but his fingers were twitching against the tabletop as they lay clasped: knuckles white with strain. "Do you not want to see Zhao?"

"He's not your dad."

"No. He isn't."

"He's not Azula."

"No." He was waiting ever so patiently and she could see it was hurting him.

Katara had run out of words.

"If you're angry, be angry. Just don't leave me alone."

"It bothers you, doesn't it. My anger."

"It's not so much the anger."

Katara could not remember the last time they had spoken so bluntly to each other. She had to remind herself that she was supposed to be angry with him. His flight tendencies infuriated her. She was not ready just yet to let go of how she felt.

At the same time, seeing Jet had redirected much of her rage and now looking at her husband she felt pity.

Wasn't this what she had asked him for? To see his family? Zhao wasn't Azula.

Neither was he an acceptable distraction from Zuko's father.

Zuko had his head bowed just a bit. He was chewing on his chopsticks. He had said what he had worked up the courage to say.

His head was bowed in defeat.

It occurred to her then, that her husband practiced a quiet kind of kindness with her. She didn't see him interacting with many other people, especially not recently, so she had no inkling of if this was how he treated everyone or if it was unique to her. He'd tried his best and yet… and yet… it wasn't good enough. Was that fair? He had found some pitiful little way to try and fulfill her demands and she could only begrudge him minimal gratitude.

Without looking up he said one last thing. "I love you very much."

Katara swallowed the pride welling up to replace the pity. Shame in herself was quickly blooming alongside her pity for him. Just for once she could accept it. "I also love you."

He met her gaze, not grateful but searching.

Katara slid his plate under her own and stood to take it to the sink. She scrapped uneaten food into the trash all the while steeling herself. She rinsed the plates, wiped her hands on her wrinkled dress pants, and turned. Zuko still sat hunched at the table. He had his hands clasped in his lap again.

With as much sincerity as she could muster, Katara smiled. She pressed back into the counter. Its hard edge bit into her thighs. "Thank you Zuko. I really appreciate you making an effort to see your family for me." The words tasted like motor oil. Bitter. Offensive. The best that she could manage.

Without waiting for a reply, she pushed off from the sink leaving unwashed dishes in the sink and retreated to their room.

She needed to wash Jet from her skin and she needed the soothing fall of water to wash away all her hurt pride.

She could and would accept what little her husband was offering.

When they went to bed that night, Zuko didn't touch her. He stayed on his side of the bed and she stayed on hers.

"I'm sorry."

"Hmm?" Bleary watery eyes.

"I'm sorry."

.

.

.

In the dim glow of city lights and half-asleep thoughts, it registered in her head just who was talking and just what they were saying.

When in the afternoon as she sat at her desk the memory returned in its fuzzy half-formed slices, she didn't know what to think of it. All she knew was that it didn't make her feel any better.

Katara sat in her seat at work but she wasn't really there. Her thoughts were with a day a long long long time before.

.

.

.

Katara met Zuko when she was 18 and he was 20. They met in passing at a college party and neither of them thought much of the other. They were aware of the other's presence but didn't cross paths often. Two years later, the two of them met again. She had just begun interning at his father's company and he was there helping out with the mundane things his father didn't have the time or patience for. The two of them bonded over paper cuts and the fax machine that always jammed and the light that wouldn't turn on in the supply closet.

And no, Katara cracked a smile in remembrance. That was not a euphemism. Though they had been given looks on several occasions when they exited that dark closet together.

She'd liked how selfless he was and how he always seemed a bit nervous. Zuko had been, and still was, the exact opposite of Jet.

That had drawn her to him but it had not been what made her stay.

One afternoon maybe three or four months after she had started her internship, the two of them were huddled under the awning outside of their building. She couldn't remember just when they'd started taking lunch together.

"This is why I keep an umbrella in the broom closet."

She grinned in that excessive way you do when you're trying too hard to hide how you're feeling about a crush. "I don't even bother."

"Does water just not affect you… or are you some kinda fish? Maybe a water goddess in disguise."

"Rain's always been important to me." She flushed just a bit. The goddess comment was far too much but she didn't mind it at all. "Quick! If we go really fast we can reach my car and I know that my brother left his umbrella in the trunk on his last visit."

Before he had time to protest she had grabbed him by the sleeve and sprinted off across the dark asphalt. He was taken so much by surprise that she had more of his sleeve then him and he had to catch her hand to stop her from pantsing him with his own shirt. There was a fair bit of confusion and by the time he had his arm back through his sleeve and his belt straightened and they were both shivering from the light drizzle. She was doubled over with hysterics.

The situation was funny, yes.

He being there didn't help with her enthusiasm.

They managed to get Sokka's umbrella. It didn't matter once they were huddled under it. All the excitement had ended in them getting thoroughly damp.

He squinted at her from under the umbrella. Light shone off the sides of cars and in the pavement where the drip drip dripping of the rain still pattered.

"I've… never liked rain."

"Yeah. I hear you. Lots of people say that."

"You must really like it here then. It's always raining one way or another. Or maybe—you didn't just move here for the weather did you?"

Folding her hands together behind her back, she flushed. "If I had—No. Been living here forever."

"Well, me too. My family has lived here for the past four generations."

"That's a long time."

"Not for me. I've only been living the two decades."

"Just the two?"

It had been his turn to flush. "What does that mean?"

It hadn't meant anything. She had simply been trying to be cute. "Hey, speaking of nothing related… What are you doing after work? Did you maybe want to go… do… something?"

He took her hand, warm in the chill spring air. "How do you feel about dawn?"

"That's a lot later than after work!"

"We could make plans for it?" He was timid but all the same she saw the hope in his eyes.

"Let's go see it sometime." She gave his hand a squeeze.

That evening when she got off, he was waiting for her. They exchanged numbers just because they hadn't gotten around to it before. She put him in her contacts as "Zuko" but when he wasn't watching she changed it to "Work Hby" and then as they were walking in the growing dark the guilt came on and she returned him to "Zuko". He did not seem to catch any of this inner turmoil.

He was busy searching for somewhere to eat on his phone.

Dinner was kinda lame but he made alright company so she didn't mind. She hadn't dated in about a year. It all felt new and—different. It was different. Jet and Aang had been childhood friends. Zuko was practically a stranger. Was it really dating? She didn't know how he felt about all of this.

They began a trek through the streets. There was no destination in mind. She hadn't wanted the evening to end. She had secretly been hoping that he felt the same.

"Have you ever been with someone?" She decided that honesty might be her best shot.

"Are you asking if I've been in a relationship? or if I'm a virgin."

She looked a bit pinker than usual under the lamp light. "Or you can be blunt..."

"Uh, just the first one."

He led them over to a low brick wall. They sat, side by side. She pressed her ankle into his.

"Really?" She looked pinker still.

"Um." He replied, picking at the fabric over her knee.

Her hand slid over his in a smooth calming motion. Her palm was cool but her fingertips were ice against his naturally toasty skin. This was nice if nothing else.

"I'm um, in the same boat."

She could tell it wasn't meant to be an insult when he looked up startled. "Never?"

"Never what?" Her lips locked in a line on the t. His reaction stung all the same.

"You've never...?"

"Didn't you JUST say that you've had a girlfriend and you're not a virgin?" Her hand was gone from over his and was tucked with the other one up under her elbows.

"What? No! I meant that I've dated but never gone that extra step."

"Why do you always make things so difficult to understand." Her hand had resumed it's cool pressure over his.

His fiddling calmed.

Her tone softened to a hum. "Sorry, forget I asked. It really doesn't matter."

.

"Does this count as our first date?" She had texted when she finally crawled into bed that night.

And he had taken so long to respond that she almost convinced herself that the previous afternoon had been a fever dream.

"Yes." Was the reply she woke to the next morning.

They started to see each other casually but it didn't take long for it to become more.

It had been a stormy autumn and although she was glad for the rain, she was not too thankful for all the wet mushy leaves stuck in her car's windshield. She'd been promising him they'd go see dawn for weeks after he had reminded her of the conversion before their first date.

They met around midnight with the intention to stay up all night. She had been fine! Ready to go! Rearing. Zuko woke her around 5:40 with a nudge of his chin. One arm was wrapped protectively in support around her back. She could tell he had been struggling to hold her sagging body up.

For how long? Long enough. She'd probably drifted off around 4:00ish.

"Not much longer." He whispered.

"Uhm." She snuggled closer into his side. He was so warm. And the not-quite-early morning was chilly.

She brushed wet hair from the corner of her mouth and wiggled to struggle her shirt back down her side. The fabric had been bunched and rolled into the crease of his elbow. It was even more chilly when the early morning breeze started up but his skin always radiated a comforting heat.

Midnight picnics became their compromise. He liked the morning, and she liked the night. Of course, working full-time all week and staying up to catch dawn on the weekends began to catch up with her. But time spent with Zuko was a good distraction from the growing frequency of Sokka's trips away from home. She even began to forget to compare Zuko's touch to Jet's.

They got married the following spring. Companionship had turned to love and love had puttered to a standstill. Somewhere along the line, Katara had grown tired of the traits that had drawn her to Zuko.

Where did it all go wrong?

.

.

.

Katara stared at the blinking cursor on her desktop screen. She was suddenly back in the present. Her hands hovered over her keyboard.

When had the comfort stopped being comforting?

She had liked that Zuko didn't talk about his past because it meant she could pretend her's hadn't happened. When had his private nature began to grate on her? She sat and stared. If there had been a definitive moment or instance, she didn't know when.

Occasionally through the day, Jason would wander to the front. Zuko hadn't seen much action in the past thirty minutes. Unless you counted their unfinished tic-tac-toe game. It was scribbled on the back of a discarded bit of cardboard,

Under his phone was stashed his own shred of cardboard; it was the nutrition info for a green tea box. He set the broom aside and took up his stolen pen. Though, was it stolen if he had simply picked it up from the street? He clicked it against the countertop all the while resting his weight against the broom.

"I've wanted to tell you something for—"

He scratched that out and tried again.

"So, you seem upset recently. There's something I want to let you know about me but I can't seem to put it into words."

He didn't like that either so he scratched it out.

His thoughts were muddled, confused. He had things he wanted to say but not the skills to put them into words. Or, he couldn't seem to articulate them to make sense. Just his luck really. He experienced his own emotions so viscerally but he couldn't communicate them. His thoughts and feelings were trapped inside of his skull. They clashed and clamored like a percussion orchestra. So intense were his thoughts that he almost couldn't hear them at all. He was drowning in his own brain.

Often times.

Today was a little different.

Communication was so difficult. He just couldn't seem to translate the noise and anxiety in his head to coherent speech out of his mouth. And even his thoughts were muddled. Half the time he had trouble being aware of his own—he couldn't even understand himself sometimes! It was all a jumbled mess.

The words just wouldn't come.

His thoughts ran circles and circles around each other. The words and phrases repeated in different variations of the same sentences.

It had been a busy morning followed by a slow lunch rush. Now he stood in a practically empty cafe with his own thoughts beating against his skull. There were two customers that sat on either wall but they quietly kept to themselves.

Zuko looked down at the little cylinder of ink in his hand. What had he even been thinking?

That was the question. What had he been thinking? That was the question that seemed to plague him recently. What had he been thinking to ask Zhao to dinner?

What had gripped him to make such a dumb decision?

This was the question that kept coming back to haunt him. It didn't matter really, the situation. Or his own actions. The same question continued to come back to the forefront of his mind. What was he even thinking right now? He stared down at the little black pen in his hand and wondered.

He didn't have an answer for himself and if someone had asked him he would not have had an answer for them either. In the moment as he had hit the dial button and put his cell phone up to his ear it had seemed so right and sound. Now, after seeing Katara's reluctance he wasn't sure anymore.

Toph had warned him against it.

Katara and Toph rarely agreed. This time they had been unaware and still felt similarly. It was so confusing!

Wasn't this what she wanted? His wife wasn't satisfied with much he did.

Didn't Toph understand that he had to do something? She was expecting him to just give up.

There was an expression about rocks and hard places and he was trying to remember the details. Both women in his life found fault no matter what he chose. Pleasing everyone was impossible if he couldn't even figure out what they wanted in the first place.
Panic about Zhao, and all that was related to him, aside: Zuko had one question.

It was a very important thought and it ran in circles around the other thoughts in his skull. He was working up the courage to ask someone.

What is the typical shelf life of love?

This was a question he'd never contemplated before. It was a terrifying question. The answer promised to be even more frightening. How long did love last when you didn't spend time nurturing and maintaining it? What could you do with a love that had withered, and rotted away?

He didn't have an answer.

That was a large part of the problem.

He set the pen down on the countertop and took up the broom. There was only so much time you could spend letting your mind run itself raw. So, he chose to put his thoughts on hold. To pause the anxiety. He swept the spotless floor without urgency. He carefully and purposefully forced himself to empty his mind of anything except the little to-do list that he reserved at the back of his mind for times just like this one.

He wasn't given long to dissociate.

"I'd die for some sanity right about now. But what doesn't kill me, better get out of the way because I'm pissed and there's nothing you can do to change my mind."

"That bad, huh?" Zuko glanced up at his newest customer. He found himself clicking his pen against the faux marble countertop.

Somehow she had managed to channel all of her irritation and stress into the tilt of her hip and the fist planted there. Toph leveled the space above his shoulder with pure disdain. "Worse." She said, rolling her eyes with special relish.

"Why do I feel like it's always something with you?" Zuko stepped around the counter to tuck the coffee from her online order into her small hands.

"Because people are always on their worst behavior around me. Perk of the job."

"Is that right?"

"Yes." She crossed her arms coffee and all, leaning into his side. Somehow she always managed to tuck herself into his personal space and out of the way of his disapproval. Her dark bangs covered her bright eyes. He never needed to guess how she felt.

Somehow Toph managed to soothe him with her blunt nature. She was a smooth hard rock and he found his stability there. She didn't leave him guessing and she never pushed him away.

"Ah, well I'm sorry you've had a rough day."

"Thanks champ. I appreciate the sympathy."

"Anytime."

"Okay. And I'm prefacing this with the kind of disclaimer that people give when they know they're about to say something rude and it's going to be taken poorly."

Zuko uncrossed his arms, "I'm listening." He said. Even though he loved her for her candor, he still sometimes shrank away from it.

"If you had gotten married when you were older, would you have picked someone not horrible?"

Zuko recrossed his arms.

The silence was enough.

"Alright, fair. That was a lot."

"Do you practice inflammatory statements in the mirror every morning?"

"Slick. You get points." Her fist connected with his shoulder blade in perfect form. Somehow she never missed. "The part of me that wants to be happy is much stronger than the part of me that wants to be accepted—even by my parents."

"I didn't get married to make my parents happy."

"Never suggested that."

Zuko sighed. "Nothing I say is going to make you like Katara but I can't help being married to her."

"You could call this whole thing quits."

"Toph."

"I'm just saying." She made no effort to joke.

"Katara is my wife and unless she leaves me, that's who she's going to stay."

"Yeah. Yeah. I hear you."

"What happened at work this morning?"

"Nothing." She bared her teeth at him. "Don't you worry your pretty little head about my work drama."

"I hear about it one way or another." He muttered it under his breath but she caught his tone.

"As much as it might seem like I despise your wife, I do not. We're not exactly rivals at work. She keeps to herself. It's her work buddy that drives me insane. I dislike her for what she does in her downtime." What she does to you went unsaid. "But, yeah, I'll drop it." She took a gulp of scalding coffee without skipping a beat. "For now."

Someone tapped him on the shoulder as Toph took her leave.

"Hey, look what I found at the Cosmic Comics," Jason said in passing. He held a little keychain in his palm. It featured a graphic with a smooth shiny gloss from their shared tv show.

Zuko oohed and awwed with Jason. They had a running collection of keychains and knickknacks hung on the wall above the menu. This was a rare find.

"How long have you known her?" Jason's voice was casual but a tad too interested.

"What, oh, Toph?"

"Maybe?" Jason shrugged. "I don't serve her often."

"Uh… It's been a long time." Zuko paused to think. "Maybe fourteen years? It's been awhile. We didn't get along when she was a kid. She's four years younger." Zuko supplied when Jason squinted at him. "Why do you ask?" Zuko's voice was equally as casual. He swiped a thumb over the glossy charm and avoided eye contact.

"Uhh…" Jason shrugged again and his ears flushed pink a bit. "You always seem a bit unhappier every time you see her."

"More unhappy than I already am?"

Jason cringed with good humor. "Hey, man. No offense but some days you don't look so hot."

"Some days I don't feel too hot."

They shared an uncomfortable laugh. Zuko was kicking himself on the inside. GREAT. Great way to make his cool co-worker uncomfortable. Awesome.

"You don't talk about yourself much, do you? Like, you know, talk about how you're doing."

"I try not to."

"It's chill. Some days minimum wage sucks. You know, slightly higher than minimum wage. I get it."

"Yeah." Zuko didn't offer up the information that his default mood had little to do with his salary.

"Nah, it's nothing." Jason assured him. "You just look tired. You've had a rough couple weeks. Maybe? Don't worry about what I said. You're cool Zuko. And don't tell Lan I said this but you're my fave co-worker."

Zuko mumbled something but even he didn't know what he'd said. It was a small compliment. Only four other people worked full-time at the shop besides them; plus the three or so part-timers. He did his absolute best to absorb the flattery. It settled somewhere below his ribs. The feeling was uncomfortable and felt more like a handful of needles jabbing him than warm indulgence.

"But yeah, if you ever need me to serve her just let me know. I've got great customer service skills." Jason discreetly demonstrated his best middle finger under the counter and they broke out into genuine laughter.

Zuko less discreetly flipped him off. Jason replied with an equally rude gesture back and whispered something especially vulgar.

"Hey! Hey!" Lan slapped his hands down as she passed through. "Customers… ."

It was too late to stop their mirth. Both boys were cackling and Jason caught him round the neck and spluttered the continuation in his ear.

Lan rolled her eyes good-naturedly and flipped him off. "I heard what you said about favorites. Zuko is mine too." She stuck her tongue out and hip-bumped them.

Before any replies could be mustered up, the bell over the door jangled and all three jumped to attention. The slightly confused couple looked around. They gave some rushed apologies and backed out the door again. The two peaceful customers from before finished up soon after.

In the end, Jason slipped back into the kitchen and Zuko was left alone with his rapidly sinking emotions.

The rest of the week passed uneventfully for Katara. Zuko and she did not speak more than a few exchanged words at dinner and a few at breakfast each day. They shared the bed without mentioning the Tuesday night falling out or the Wednesday night promises. He held her hand most nights and she begrudgingly allowed him to. They usually woke in a jumble of limbs.

Katara clung to her quiet coffee ritual like never before, but it offered her nothing but space for her mind to fill with worries and agitation.

It was the following Tuesday that something happened.

"Ouch." A thin line of blood rose just under the first knuckle of her index finger.

"You alright?"

"Just a papercut."

Suki didn't press too hard about the newest Mark/Iris drama. She and Iris weren't talking because of something rude Mark had said about her and the fact that Suki had laughed when he'd said it. Iris was now bugging Katara when she found the opportunities.

It was a little startling how fast gossip spread in their dull little office. They were the smallest department in the building. Maybe that was why.

Not even the Wednesday fallout between her and Beifong had lasted past the weekend.

The only sign that it had transpired was the audible muttering whenever Beifong passed their desks and how jumpy Mark would get whenever he saw their HR assistant approaching. It was kinda nice.

Katara could pretend she hadn't been put down in front of her entire office.

Of course, she now had to deal with Iris's insatiable appetite for gossip.

Aaand Katara had promised Suki to pass along anything new or juicy.

Suki seemed plenty distracted with her own problems.

Katara sucked on the slight sting along her knuckle and stared at her screen. There would be time to mull over her personal problems on the way home. Right now she needed to read and respond to the three emails about her presentation that was coming up on Monday. She knew that was what she should be doing.

For once in her life, she actually wanted to discuss her drama with a third party.

"Suki—" She controlled the pitch of her voice with a great effort. "Suki, have you ever felt targeted? I mean—have you ever felt like meeting someone was too much of a coincidence?"

"Oh, have I." She bared her teeth. "It's been the bane of my existence recently."

"But how do I know if it's just in my head?"

"Women have stronger intuition than we give ourselves credit for. Don't doubt yourself." She grit her teeth at that and turned her attention back to her work.

As silly as it made her feel, Katara was not used to being ignored and a twinge of hurt crept into her chest. That was it? Well.

Well.

Katara really, really wanted to ask her co-worker if 'seeing' an old ex everywhere you went was normal. The past week Katara had felt like a paranoid idiot. She kept glancing a tall leather-jacketed figure out of the corner of her eye. It was very likely paranoia but that didn't stop her suspicion that Jet really was following her around.

Of course, Suki was being the ultimate role model for work today. Katara decided to follow her example even if it wasn't what she really wanted to be doing. The curse of adulthood was doing the things that needed doing even if it wasn't what you wanted to be doing. It was what set Katara apart from her brother in maturity. Even if he was older by two years, she could proudly say that she could be counted on to follow through with unpleasant things.

The afternoon passed without further incident.

.

Katara was standing in the lobby clutching her briefcase and rummaging around for a tissue. She'd been sneezing all day. She found an unopened pack and fumbled to tear it open with her teeth and a free hand.

Before she had time to sniffle into the tissue, someone caught her arm. She turned ready to exclaim but that someone was not at all who she had been expecting.

It was Suki—who had she been expecting?

"Hi. I um, I wanted to apologize for last week. Me and Iris can wind each other up sometimes. I've been busy." Suki rubbed her lip gloss in an absentminded little oval motion around her very pink lips.

Katara took the distraction to wipe her nose politely with the tissue. "Oh. I… appreciate your apology." Katara wondered absently if Suki had apologized to Iris yet. She was hoping the two would make up soon. She only had the patience for her own drama.

"Life can't always be fun and games." Suki wobbled her head a bit but when Katara still didn't laugh, she dropped the motion. "I hate to nag. Katara. Can you please please ask your brother to stop calling me? He just won't quit. If he keeps this up much longer Lukas is for sure going to suspect I'm having an affair or something!" And under her breath, "Hm. Maybe that's just what Sokka wants…"

"He's been calling you?"

"Not just—"

"Are you absolutely sure?"

"Well, when I get a million missed calls from an unknown number and the voice mail that finally gets left on my cell is the voice of my dear ex telling me what time he's going to show up at my house—" she took a breath, "and then when he actually does show and won't stop knocking on my apartment door, I can't help but be sure."

"That idiot!"

"My thoughts exactly."

"He's been harassing you that badly?"

"Flattering as it is to be chased by your college ex, it's not exactly ideal."

The two of them shared a dark look.

Katara drummed her fingers against the plastic bus stop advertisement's booth. She'd taken shelter behind the faded bus stop just outside of the metro. Nerves and irritation chased themselves around her abdomen as she debated with herself. She held her phone in steady hands but her chest was uneasy. It didn't take long to make a decision. "Sokka? Hello?"

A little feedback on his end and crackling. "S—sorry, you there?"

The phone call cut out. She watched her phone screen flicker and then buzz and then light up again with a flattering photo of her brother's left nostril. She was lightning speed to answer.

"Hello? Sokka?"

"Hey." The audio was clear. Crisp. "Yeah, sorry about that. I dropped my phone in the shower a few weeks back and it's been acting up."

"...what was it doing in the shower…?"

"Heh. You ask good questions, but are they the right ones?"

"Alright, you done? I have something actually important to ask you."

A very different sounding sort of crackle filled her ears. It sounded suspiciously like a candy wrapper or something close to it.

"You're very funny."

"I try."

"Can you try to be serious for a minute?"

"Maybe for 50 seconds."

She was silent, letting him think over how ridiculous he was being.

He yawned into the receiver. "What 'cha need Katara?"

"Zuko and me are going to dinner with a family friend and their son."

"And…"

"And you should come with. Zuko wants to see you again as much as I do."

"This is kiinda out of nowhere Katara."

"I need a reason to call my brother now, do I?"

"It's just been a hot minute since you bothered to call. That's a—"

"That's all." She finished for him.

"Exactly."

"When was the last time YOU called? We're not even talking about visiting. When did you call last, Sokka, huh?"

"Wouldn't it be better to schedule a different day, like where you're not going to dinner with some family friend? Or, maybe when I'm in town?"

"You are in town."

They sat in silence for a full 30 seconds.

"Since when?"

"Since Suki told me you stopped by her apartment to stalk her."

"I've done nothing of the sort—"

"Are you avoiding me?"

"When have I ever avoided you?"

"Answer the question."

"When's the dinner."

"Friday. That dim-sum restaurant by the fancy Italian bistro and that big organics supermarket. 7:30pm."

"I'll see you then, alright Katara?"

"Alright." She sighed.

He ended the call.

She stared at her ankles. Just like that, he was gone again. She stared down at the tips of her shoes. It was almost funny the way… It was not funny. She gathered up her carry-on briefcase and her suit jacket. Pages and pens and at least one rubberband all crumpled and rattled together in the boxy interior of her briefcase.

She'd been in a mood when she'd shoved it all in. She moved away from the bus stop and toward the towering metro building's entrance in a numb daze. Just as she was reaching the glass doors of the front of the building, her phone started buzzing. She reached for it without thinking.

"Hello? Katara speaking."

"Whatchaa doing tonight?" Sokka sounded apologetic.

It was raining. Little rivulets of water ran down the glass window next to his head. He hunched in on himself. The rain was wet. Cold. Gentle. Like tears he couldn't shed. The pattering and dripping filled his ears as the full swelling smell of grass filled his nose. What a wide-open world.

As he sat in the little corner of the shops all pressing together, he listened to the rain. Just listened. The world was too wide.

His mother was gone and he didn't know where she had gone to.

"Phft. Oh. So here you are. I thought I'd find you out here. Do you know how to do anything but mope?"

He didn't turn to look at his sister nor did he acknowledge her. Instead, he dug his nails into the rough side of the building he was leaning against. His nails and fingertips scraped against the scraggly surface of the brick wall. It didn't feel nice.

"Father wants to see you."

"What for?" His voice was quiet.

"Like I know? Just get in there."

"I'm… busy."

"What, crying?"

He crossed his arms against the cold rain. Blinking, blinking, blinking away the raindrops sliding down his cheeks and chin. "And what if I am?"

.

.

.

"Zuko?"

He woke to a dark room. Disorientation and the thruming of a headache stole his breath away. He was in his own bed. Yes. He was in his own home. The home that belonged to HIM. His very own safe harbor.

Days off tended to end in long naps. The kind of naps that never managed to be restful. Sure, he could have gone in to work to visit but… he always felt out of place. Guilty even. Like he wasn't supposed to be there.

At least in his own bed, no one could make him feel unwanted.

Uh—there was the one person.

The soft tump tump of her bare feet on the carpet caused him to open his eyes.

How many times was he going to wake in the dark to the crushing reality of his loneliness? Each time was worse than the last. What did he have to show for 6 years of marriage? An empty bed in a dingy little apartment.

"Zuko?" He grimaced at her voice. How ridiculous was it that he had used to want nothing more than to hear her talk?

"Are you sleeping?"

In the dimness he could see that she was still dressed in her work clothes. She had her jacket over an elbow, was smoothing her dark curls back with a free hand. "It's almost 6:25."

He groaned into the pillow.

Suddenly the space didn't feel so comforting and peaceful.

"Sokka asked if we have time tonight to go get some drinks."

"Mmhmbn?"

"Are you feeling up to it?"

"Maybe… I don't drink."

"Yeah, and I don't either."

"Sokka doesn't drink."

She crossed her arms and pursed her lips. "And?"

"Um. It's just kinda odd."

"Alright. I'll call him back and say that we aren't going to make it."

It was not an apology but under the circumstances, he just didn't care. Maybe he would have cared before or maybe he had always been so broken that only validating her feelings could make him happy.

He rolled up into a sitting slump. Her voice was dangerously polite. He could almost feel her arms itching to uncross and find her hips.

"I don't want you to miss a night out with him."

"I don't plan to."

"I thought you just said—"

"That we won't be going."

Sokka had just said that it was a night out with some of his friends. She didn't want to do too much but she was also too excited to be reserved. It had been so long since she had gone out to do anything more exciting than grocery shopping that she was suspicious the last time had been new years.

As Zuko watched mutely from the bed, Katara sorted through her dressier dresses. It felt almost juvenile but all the same she held each one up for his inspection. It was a sort of a half-apology for snapping at him. They were supposed to be ignoring their problems since he had promised her dinner with Zhao but she kept exploding and making them fight.

Zuko rolled to her side of the bed. He propped a fist under his chin.

"No?" She held the silky fabric out for him to feel.

He averted his eyes.

"What? "

"That's a lot of skin."

"Well—if you were going with me maybe you wouldn't feel so insecure."

"Maybe not."

"...but I understand that you're not feeling well so… " She hung the dress back up. She was careful not to be too rough with it. "How about this?" She draped the dress in question over her chest, sticking a thigh out for effect. It was a snug black knit that hit her at the knees. It was tastefully cut to show off her shoulders and collarbones. "With these boots maybe." She was hopeful and she didn't try to hide the whine.

He laughed. "Very, uh, classic."

That pleased her and she bent down to give him a quick peck.

"Don't stay out too late?"

"I'll be responsible. You know with Sokka there I'll have to be."

He tucked his arms underneath his body to stop his hands fidgeting. "I sleep terrible without you."

She knew that but all the same she didn't have an answer.

A/N:

I stopped italicizing flashbacks because, respectfully to myself, that's annoying as hell to read for long periods of time.