Archive of Our Own

0. THE BOY

Your future’s full of

struggle and anguish, most of

it self-inflicted.

//

"I don't care what you guys say, that Aunt Wu lady didn't know what she was talking about," Sokka sniffs, sitting back in Appa's saddle. It's a beautiful day: the wind in his hair, the sun on his face, and nary an erupting volcano in sight. "And she was just saying that 'struggle and anguish' thing to rile me up."

Katara rolls her eyes. "Sure, Sokka. Whatever helps you sleep at night."

"Listen, Aunt Wu is a fraud and a scammer, and anyone who thinks she—"

Katara sticks her fingers in her ears. Sokka keeps talking anyway, just because he knows it'll annoy her.

I. THE MOON

Unreachable, drawn

away by things stronger than 

any ties to earth

//

This, Sokka knows for a fact: Yue is the most beautiful girl he's ever seen. 

When she sits down next to him at the feast, alarms go off inside his head. SHE'S RIGHT THERE, screeches a voice in his brain. He nearly chokes on his food, suddenly hyperaware of every movement he makes and every hair that's out of place. 

Okay. Okay, he has to do this right. She has to think he's cool, because he'll probably curl up and die if she doesn't.

"Hi there," he says, mentally high-fiving himself when his voice doesn't waver. He braces his elbow on the table, leaning slightly towards her, and does a fist-pump inside his head when she doesn't move away. "Sokka, Southern Water Tribe."

"Very nice to meet you," she says back, with a little dip of her head. She thinks it's nice to meet him! Sokka stares at her for a second, awestruck, before he remembers that he has to keep the conversation going.

He blurts out a long string of stupid thing after stupid thing after that (do an activity. Come on, Sokka), but in the end, he gets to see her smile. And, to be honest, that makes it all worth it.

//

Yue is—she's so—

Sokka doesn't even have the words for it. When he runs into her at the canal, it's like everyone else just fades away. He can't stop staring at her. She's gorgeous and she's sweet and when her father had gestured for her to speak at the feast, she'd done so with the sort of confidence Sokka can only dream of. She looks at him now with this—this twinkle in her eye, this curve to her mouth. He doesn't know if it means she likes him or if she just walks around looking like that all the time. He hopes it means she likes him. Oh, spirits, does he hope.

"Meet me on that bridge tonight," she says, pointing, and Sokka nearly explodes with excitement.

"Great!" he says giddily, absolutely lost in her smile. "I'll see you—"

His next step meets nothing but air, and he topples face-first into the freezing canal. But when he hears Yue laugh, calling out an apology to him, he feels like his heart's been lit on fire.

//

"I shouldn't have asked you to come here," Yue says, her voice strange and wobbly. It feels like a knife. Sokka watches her run off the bridge and curses whatever mistake he must've made.

Stupid. Stupid. He knew he shouldn't have carved the damn fish.

//

He thinks he's figured it out. She's a princess, after all, and he's just...Sokka. There's a billion other guys out there who are more worthy of her, who are smarter and funnier and more important. He tells her this, so that he won't have to hear it from her mouth and feel it tear him apart.

"It's okay," he says when she tries to protest. He knows she'll just comfort him with white lies, and if she does that then he might actually burst into tears. "You don't have to say anything. I'll see you around, okay?"

He turns to leave. There's the scuff of a footstep behind him, and then a hand closes around his arm. Yue tugs him back, making him turn around as he does, and he only has a second to process the sudden feeling of her gloves on his jaw before she—

She kisses him.

She kisses him. She kisses him. Sokka's brain goes wonderfully empty and explodes into fireworks at the same time. It's incredible, and it's wonderful, and—and—

And she's giving him so many mixed signals right now. 

"Okay, now I'm really confused," he tells her once he can form a coherent thought again. He holds her hand in both of his. "Happy, but confused."

He'll remember the next words Yue says for the rest of his life. He'll be able to look back at this, years later, and remember the exact look in her eyes as she tells him that she's engaged. As she reaches up and pulls down the thick white fur of her collar, revealing a necklace wrapped around her throat.

This, he thinks, is his first heartbreak.

//

Soot-stained snow falls steadily from the sky as Sokka runs towards the palace, one hand clasped tight around Yue's. Above their heads, men pound the war drums in a steady one-two beat. Sokka's heart beats with them, as he thinks not again, not again, not again. 

They're halfway up the steps when Yue stops abruptly. Momentum carries Sokka forward and tugs his hand out of hers. He turns around, adrenaline making him frantic.

"What's wrong?" he asks, scanning her face for anything out of the ordinary. Around them, people sprint up the steps, which only makes him twitchier. "We have to go!"

"No, Sokka, wait," she says. She meets his eyes, and it's there again: that tightness in her face that she gets when she's about to tell him something that will shatter him into a billion pieces. "I can't see you anymore. Not at all."

The words are like a knife to Sokka's already-cracked (and, at the moment, severely stressed out) heart. "What?" he says, and the sharp pain makes him almost snappy. He throws up his hands in frustration. "We're just friends!"

Yue turns her head sharply, looking to the side like she can't even stand the sight of him. "I wish we could just be friends, but I like you too much," she says. Sokka's heart soars and falls all at once.  "And it's too confusing to be around you. I'm marrying someone else!" 

She turns around, leaving Sokka to stare at the back of her head. He's speechless for a moment—with frustration or with heartbreak, he doesn't know. The sheer unfairness of it all makes him want to scream.

He looks at Yue, and he sees the defeated slope of her shoulders, the way she holds herself stiffly like she'll fall apart if she doesn't. "You don't love him, do you?" he realises out loud. "You don't even seem to like him."

"But I do love my people," Yue counters. 

"You're not marrying them!" 

"You don't understand," Yue says, turning back to face him. Her brow is scrunched together, her mouth a thin, trembling line. "I have duties to my father, to my tribe. I have to do this—goodbye."

She's gone before he can register her words, running past him and into the palace in a flash of purple. Sokka reaches out for her, but by the time he gets his hand in the air, she's already gone. 

If it wasn't for the looming threat of the Fire Nation, Sokka would just sit down right here on the steps and scream. Duty—who cares? Just because Yue was born a princess, it means she has to—to sacrifice her life and her freedom for everyone else? It's not fair, and he hates it, and he wants to rage at the universe until it spits out a loophole for Yue to be happy.

But even if the universe smiled down on them, Yue wouldn't change her mind. She's determined to do this for her tribe, and nothing Sokka says will change that.

Above his head, the snow seems to get darker. The Fire Nation is on Agna Qel'a's doorstep. So Sokka swallows his anger, his rage on Yue's behalf, and he follows her up the steps to inside the palace hall.

//

When the world goes dark, Yue's eyes are still blue.

At first, Sokka barely registers it. He's too busy staring at the dead fish in the old man's hands, his brain flipping through a thousand worst-case-scenarios. Aang is something to handle later, but how does he get Katara and Yue out of here? How does he fix this? How can he keep them safe?

But then the old man says that Yue's been touched by the Moon Spirit. Sokka really doesn't care, not unless it means she's about to suddenly disappear too, but he keeps his eyes on her as she answers.

"Yes. You're right," she says slowly, realisation creeping into her voice. "It gave me life. Maybe I can give it back."

Give it back?

Give it—

A flash of cold, worse than any polar night, goes down Sokka's spine.

"No!" he says, scrambling to his feet as Yue stands. He grabs her hand desperately, his heart hammering in his chest. "You don't have to do that!"

Yue's shoulders slump minutely. Look at me, Sokka pleads mentally, but she doesn't turn her head. He's left staring at her hair, whiter than snow, white as the moon, as she says, "It's my duty, Sokka."

Duty, duty, who cares about stupid duty?  If duty makes her marry an ass like Hahn, then it's not worth it. If duty gets her killed, then it's not worth it. Sokka tightens his grip around her fingers. 

"I won't let you," he says. It feels like his throat has shrunk two sizes and his voice is getting stuck on the way out. "Your father told me to protect you." 

Yue pushes her shoulders back slightly, straightening her spine and lifting her head. "I have to do this," she says, her voice quiet but suddenly firm, and Sokka realises with sinking certainty that he can't change her mind.

She pulls her hand away. Sokka, like a fool, lets her.

She lays her hands on the fish, and he notices, for the first time, that she isn't wearing gloves. He's struck with the thought that he should give her his. The fish begins to glow a blinding white, but all Sokka can focus on is Yue's silhouette.

He feels like someone's taken a carving knife to him, like he's an animal brought back from the hunt. He's being gutted and deboned. Something vital is being taken from him, and there's nothing he can do to stop it. 

The light dies down. Yue exhales, just once. He catches her as she falls.

Her body is a solid weight. She's still warm, and she feels so real, and for a moment Sokka tricks himself into thinking he sees her draw breath. But she doesn't open her eyes, and when he brings his hand to her neck he feels no pulse beneath the skin.

"She's gone," he says hoarsely. His mind is nothing but sudden, ringing silence. "She's gone."

No one moves or speaks. In the warmth of the Spirit Oasis, Yue's body doesn't start to cool as fast as Sokka's used to. It's a torture, to be left with that last spark of hope: that maybe she's just breathing so shallowly, her heart beating so slowly, that he missed it somehow. He closes his eyes so that he won't have to look at her still face, bowing his head over her.

Then the weight in his arms lightens. He blinks his eyes open just in time to see her fade into nothing. It's too sudden for him to process, too fast for him to try and catch any glimpses of her that are left.

The fish slips into the pond, alive and well, and she descends from the sky for a handful of seconds. She's half-transparent, her hair floating in a breeze that isn't there. She's beautiful. She's unattainable. She's dead.

"Goodbye, Sokka," she says, her voice echoing strangely. "I will always be with you."

She kisses him once, her newly-spirit hands cupping his jaw. Her lips are cold like sea spray.

She vanishes before he can reach for her. Sokka's hand grasps uselessly at thin air. Above them, the moon slides back into view, as if it was simply covered by a cloud all this time.

There isn't even a body to bury.

II. THE STARS

Scattered on all sides

Turn and find another view

Impossible whole

//

When they run into Suki at the ferry, the first thing Sokka feels is joy. The second is paralysing fear.

When he hugs her, his arms around her back, for a moment all he can think of is the weight of Yue's body as she fell. And after that, the thought haunts him: would it feel the same if he held Suki as she died? No, she'd be lighter; Yue was wearing furs. He can't stop himself from keeping an eye on Suki as she goes about doing her job. He knows she can fight—hell, she beat him the first time they met—but he can't help it. He just can't.

He'd thought she was safe on Kyoshi Island. But no, she's decided she has to do her duty to the world, and she's come out here instead where she's exposed and vulnerable and the Fire Nation could swoop in at any moment. The thought gives Sokka hives.

Duty. It's always duty.

//

Azula baits him on the eclipse. He knows she's playing him, he knows she's just stalling for time, but—

But he failed Yue once before, and he's failed Suki, too. But maybe Suki can still be saved. And maybe the key to saving her means taking the bait.

So he takes the bait. He grabs Azula's shoulder, her armour biting into his palm, and shoves her up against the wall. He demands to know where Suki is.

He takes the bait, and in the end it doesn't matter. In the end, the invasion plan doesn't work.

In the end, Sokka fails Suki, and his father, and everyone he's ever loved.

//

As Sokka squints at a map and steers the airship in what he hopes is the direction of the Fire Nation capital, Suki comes into the engine room to keep him company. Aang and Toph are out on the deck terrorizing Ozai, so it's just the two of them and the gentle creaking of metal.

"You were amazing back there," he tells her, thinking back to how she'd swooped in like a miracle, commandeering an entire airship like it was nothing. "I think you actually saved our lives. How'd you even do that?"

Suki laughs. "Hey, you know me," she says, smiling. "That's just what I do: I keep my people safe."

She presses a kiss to the corner of his mouth, then goes to dredge up a chair from somewhere so Sokka doesn't have to keep standing on his injured leg. She is, he thinks, possibly the best thing that's ever happened to him.

//

A few months after the war ends, they go their separate ways. Sokka and Katara, plus Aang, return to the South Pole to help rebuild with their new allies in the North. Suki goes back to Kyoshi Island. Sometimes, it's like nothing ever changed at all.

But things have changed, and they've changed for the better. Kyoshi Island isn't too far away by hawk or by Appa, so it's easy for him and Suki to exchange letters and occasional meetings. She tells him about how trade on Kyoshi is booming with all the new ships that sail past. He tells her about all the new construction in the South and his newfound love of architecture. 

(He doesn't tell her about how his throat closes sometimes when he sees the bridges that the Northern waterbenders build. They're not the same, not exactly—there are no canals here like in Agna Qel'a, no great towers of ice—but they're close enough.)

Almost eight months after the war, Suki comes to say goodbye. 

"Goodbye?"  Sokka says stupidly. "What do you mean, goodbye? You're literally like a day away if I steal Appa and fly him there."

Suki smiles in a kind of bittersweet way. "I'm leaving Kyoshi Island," she says, and Sokka's stomach drops.

She tells him that she's going to the Fire Nation to be Zuko's personal bodyguard. Apparently, the Hotman isn't actually doing so hot, and he can't trust his own guards because everyone in the Fire Nation is a snake just waiting to strike. Suki and her best Warriors are heading over for the foreseeable future.

In the end, though, it isn't actually that bad. Suki reassures him that this won't change anything about their relationship, and she promises to buy him lots of shiny things in the Fire Nation market. In return, he promises to write as much as possible, though their letters will have much more of a delay. The Caldera is a lot further away from the South Pole than Kyoshi Island.

"And hey, look at the bright side," he says. "Now I can knock my You Visits and my Zuko Visits out at the same time!"

Suki laughs. Sokka watches her, a smile spreading on his own face, and he thinks they'll be okay.

//

Sokka bursts into the palace infirmary feeling like his heart is about to jump out of his chest. Zuko had said Suki would make a full recovery, but that letter was dated almost a week ago and Sokka knows that anything could've happened since then. He scans the room, his stomach twisting at the sight of empty bed after empty bed—

"Sokka?"

And there she is, half-propped up in bed, eyes wide as she gapes at him standing in the doorway. Relief crashes through Sokka like a tidal wave. He's at her bedside in a flash, scanning her for injuries (none visible, but he knows the Big Wound is under the blanket) and signs of sickness (a little sweaty, but it's the Fire Nation, so who cares) and—

He doesn't realise he's babbling out loud until Suki reaches out and rests a hand on his arm. He stares at it for a second. She's tanner than he remembers, from all these years spent in the Caldera sun.

"I'm fine," she says, sounding fondly exasperated. "The doctor said I'll be alright to leave within the week. And Zuko and my girls have been fussing over me enough as it is."

Sokka exhales. "I know, I know, I'm sorry," he says, and he ducks his head down to press a quick kiss to her hairline. She smells kinda musty, because she probably hasn't bathed in a few days with the whole massive abdominal wound and all, but he doesn't care. "I just—I got the letter and I was so—I—"

Suki seems to understand. She winds her arms around his neck in a half-hug. The motion makes her shirt ride up a bit, and Sokka catches sight of thick white bandages wrapped around her ribs. He swallows around a sudden knot in his throat and holds her closer. 

"How did it happen?" he croaks out. "Zuko didn't say much in the letter."

Suki pulls back. "Oh, you know, the usual," she says, and that churning feeling in Sokka's stomach gets worse at the idea of there being a usual. "Assassins trying to kill the Fire Lord and failing miserably, blah blah blah. One of them just managed to get past my guard, that's all. Occupational hazard."

Occupational hazard, because Zuko is an extremely contentious Fire Lord, and for some reason the Fire Nation unanimously decided about a thousand years ago that the general response to contentious Fire Lords would be murder. And Suki is his bodyguard. Snow and sea.

She's been doing this for two whole years. In retrospect, it's a miracle that she hasn't been gutted before now. 

Sokka wets his lips. He's been thinking about talking to her about this for a while, but her getting stabbed has definitely moved it up the to-do list. He sits down awkwardly, with one leg folded on the edge of Suki's bed and the other stretched out on the floor. He reaches for her hand and folds it between both of his, finding comfort in her familiar calluses as she automatically interlaces their fingers.

"Suki," he starts, and she snorts.

"Oh, I know that voice," she says. "That's your we're about to have a serious conversation voice. Kick a girl while she's down, why don't you?"

Sokka cracks half a smile, but it doesn't escape his notice that her grip is a little weaker than usual. He sees the bags beneath her eyes, too, and the ginger way she moves. 

"Listen," he says, "would you ever consider...quitting?"

The smile slides off Suki's face like water. She sits up straighter, then winces minutely as it pulls at her wound. 

"What?" she says disbelievingly. "You mean—my job?  Sokka, I can't leave my Warriors—"

"No, no, not the Warriors," Sokka says hurriedly. "I'd never ask you to leave the Warriors. But I mean—this." He gestures at the red-walled infirmary they're in, at the curtains that blow in the humid breeze. "Being Zuko's bodyguard. It's just—it's dangerous, and you're in the Fire Nation all the time, and—and it's dangerous."

Suki's face softens as he continues, but not in the I'm open to the idea way that Sokka was hoping for. No, it softens in the trying to let you down gently way, and Sokka's heart sinks.

"I know it's dangerous," she says, reaching out to tuck a stray strand of hair behind his ear. He leans into the touch. "That's why I'm doing it. It's only dangerous for me because it's dangerous for Zuko. I can't just leave him in the hands of someone else, Sokka, it'll drive me crazy if I do. I keep my people safe, remember?"

Sokka groans, but it's more for show than anything else. He lowers his head to bury his face in the sheets. "You couldn't have picked a different person to keep safe? Someone who gets less assassination attempts?"

"Afraid not. I like a challenge."

"You know, other guys would be mad that you're choosing Zuko over me." 

"Good thing I'm not dating other guys, then." She leans down to kiss the crown of his head. "It won't be forever, I promise. Just...when I feel that he's safe."

"I know, I know," Sokka says, sitting back up. "Okay, new idea. What if you just take a break?"

Suki sighs. "Sokka—"

"Just a short one! A month, two months at most. Come back to the South Pole with me. You're recovering anyway, they can't expect you to do any actual work. I'll take you out hunting, and we can go penguin-sledding, and I'll drag you into all the fights me and Katara get into."

Suki's eyes flicker down. Away. 

"I'd love to," she says quietly. "Really, I would. But the Earth King's coming in two weeks, and he won't feel safe with just the Fire Nation guards. He only agreed to come on the condition that the Kyoshi Warriors are the ones on duty in the palace. If we're not there, it'll be an international disaster."

"Okay, I get that," Sokka says, a touch desperately, "but the girls can manage without you, right? Just for a little bit?"

Suki bites her lip. "I mean, they can," she says. "But...I'm sorry, Sokka, I can't. I just—I can't leave them, not when it's something this big. They'll be working with the Earth King's guards, people we've never met before, and I...I cant."

Sokka swallows down his disappointment. "Oh," he says. "Okay. That's fine. So...another time? You haven't been down South in ages."

Suki meets his eyes again, her lips pulling up in a faint smile. "Another time," she promises.

It sounds a little like a lie.

//

After years of this, of the scarce visits and the letters that took ages to send and the time that slipped by like sand in between sightings of each other, Sokka is so incredibly glad to get a month off.

"Suki!" he yells, leaping the last few feet off the ship. He lands on the pier, feels the wood shake beneath his feet, and runs right into her open arms.

Suki catches him, laughing. She's dressed in the simple blue robes that the Kyoshi villagers favour, her armour nowhere to be seen. When Sokka leans down to kiss her, it's like a breath of fresh air. Behind them, the captain of the merchant ship that brought him here grumbles something about public displays of affection, but otherwise leaves them be. 

"It's so good to see you," Sokka says in between kisses. "I can't believe you got a whole month off to spend on Kyoshi. I can't believe I got a whole month off to spend on Kyoshi."

"Well, Zuko kind of kicked me out. He said either I took a break or he'd make me take a break."

"Ha. That's funny, coming from him. But also, I don't want to talk about Zuko right now." He leans in for another kiss, then goes to sink a hand into her hair—and stops in his tracks.

"Your hair!" he says, stunned. Suki blinks up at him, then laughs.

"Oh, I forgot about that," she says, reaching back to pull it over her shoulder. It's long now, so much longer than Sokka remembers, and tied in the style of Avatar Kyoshi. "I started growing it out ages ago. Didn't I tell you?"

Something odd twinges in Sokka's chest. "If you did, I must've forgotten," he says. He knows she didn't mention it. It was probably just too insignificant a thing to mention in her letters, but it's still a visible reminder of how much time has passed since they last met.

Then Suki blinks, her eyes going to just past his face, and she lets out a shocked laugh. "Forget about my hair, what about your hair?" she demands, reaching for the braids Sokka put in months ago. She pulls them forward to examine the beads there, the intricate designs and the colours. Then she spots something else, and her eyes go wide. "Is that an earring?"

Sokka shrugs. "Lots of fashion trends going through the South right now," he says. "Obviously I keep up."

She takes him on a tour of Kyoshi Island to show him how the village has changed since he last visited. The statue of Kyoshi is newly repainted, and all the roofs freshly thatched. Children run in the streets. The fishermen in the bay wave at them as they walk past, and Suki stops multiple times to chat to the villagers. She's radiant, her smile nearly splitting her face. Sokka watches her, and remembers her saying, I keep my people safe.

At dinner, over a spread of fresh fish and other Kyoshi delicacies, he explains the meaning of all his hair beads to her. He shows off his new tattoos, which he apparently didn't mention in his last letter—fuck, he doesn't even remember when he sent that—and tells her the story of how he and his dad had gotten drunk, spontaneously pierced each other's ears, and then had to hide from a wrathful Katara who threatened to leave them both to the mercies of infection for their stupidity. Suki laughs, bright and golden, and tells him her own stories, about the ambassador she called an idiot and the time she and Zuko robbed a merchant and countless other things.

They share a drink after dinner, and then he kisses her again, reaching up to cup her face. His thumb grazes an unfamiliar ridge on her cheek. He pulls back, confused, and sees a scar there. It wasn't obvious from a distance, and he must have been too distracted to notice earlier. It's raised, a thin white line that cuts across her right cheek, from her ear to the tip of her chin.

"Another attack?" he asks, that odd twinge in his chest returning.

Suki shrugs. "Nothing important," she says. "You'd be bored with the story."

She leans in to kiss him again, the topic obviously dropped. Sokka lines his hands up with her jaw, the motion familiar and her face fitting into his hands as it always has. The only difference is that now there's a line of scar tissue pressed up against his hands. It should be insignificant and easily ignored, but for a moment, all Sokka can think of is how he doesn't know where it came from. 

//

On the second day of their Miraculous Month Off on Kyoshi Island (as dubbed by Sokka), Suki wakes him up with what used to be his favourite tea. It's a custom blend from Iroh's tea shop, and Sokka had drunk it religiously until Aang came back from somewhere in the Earth Kingdom a few months ago with this divine cloudberry tea that knocked Iroh's one down to second place. 

Suki doesn't know that. Suki hands him the steaming cup of tea and says proudly, "I asked Iroh to send over enough for the whole month."

He accepts the cup, and the smile and kiss that comes with it, and he doesn't tell her about Aang's cloudberry tea. 

They head to the dojo to spar, just for old times' sake. It's great and exhilarating and, when Sokka manages to knock Suki down on the ground, he privately smiles to himself. He remembers the last time they sparred clear as day, because he'd managed to win. Suki had been on the ground just like this, and she'd braced both hands on the ground and done a backflip kind of thing to get back up, and Sokka had grabbed her around the middle and wrestled her back down until he got the upper hand. She always does the backflip move when she's down, ever since he met her. He can see it in his head, can predict where she'll end up. He lunges forward just as she starts to move—

Suki does not do a backflip. Suki does a spinning kick that he's never seen her do before and promptly kicks Sokka in the nose. 

Sokka falls on his ass with a cry, cradling his nose. He touches it gingerly, but it's just sore, not broken. There's not even any blood.

"Shit, sorry," Suki says, leaning over him. "You okay?"

"Just moon-peachy," Sokka wheezes, and accepts her hand up. "Where'd you learn that?"

Suki shrugs. "Zuko taught me it a while ago. Comes in handy every now and then, especially against the other Warriors."

Yeah, Sokka bets it does. Mostly because he'd been fighting in the Kyoshi Warrior style, the exact same way Suki taught him all those years ago, and he hadn't seen that move coming at all. 

"Huh," he says, assuming a fighting stance again. "I'll have to ask him to teach me too, next time I see him."

It goes on like this, for the entire day: Sokka expects Suki to do something, to move or say something in a certain way, and she...doesn't. She's changed. Picked up new habits and new tricks. She's changed, and Sokka wasn't there to witness it, and now he's left scrambling after this new version of Suki that he doesn't know how to read yet. And it goes the other way, too—sometimes Sokka will mention stuff, or do something, and Suki will look at him oddly, like she was expecting something else.

By the end of the fourth day, Sokka realises that they're no longer as in sync as they used to be.

The Suki from Sozin's Comet is long gone. So is the Suki from that time she got stabbed, who had been so desperate to protect everyone and everything. Sokka looks at her, with the long hair and the scar on her cheek, and he thinks that it will take a lot longer than a month for him to learn which version of her he's looking at now. From the way Suki looks back at him, her eyes lingering on his braids and the hoop in his ear, she's thinking the same thing.

//

He's relieved to find out that, even if he doesn't quite know who Suki is anymore, she still laughs the same at his jokes. They spend their month off joking and sparring and daring each other to swim out as far as they can before the Unagi gets pissed. It's wonderful and golden and everything Sokka wished for, during all those nights when he would think back to the period where everyone was together and everything seemed possible. It feels like they're reliving those weeks on Ember Island before the comet. It feels like they can never be those kids again.

Suki's room has a window that opens to the west. Sokka wakes up early some nights. On one of these nights, the moon is full.

Silver light slants across the floor, so bright that Sokka can see everything. He twists around in Suki's arms—she likes to be the big spoon, and Sokka likes to indulge her—and takes a moment to just stare at her face.

She looks much more peaceful in sleep. The tightness around her eyes eases, and she looks younger, more like the Suki that he remembers. But the scar on her face is stark. The moonlight catches on the faint ridge of it, makes it a silver line in the dark. Sokka reaches up and runs his thumb over it, gentle; Suki's brows twitch, but she doesn't wake up.

Sokka winds an arm around her waist and pulls her closer, leaning in to drop a kiss on her bare shoulder. "Love you," he mumbles into her skin, warm and familiar. Her hair smells different these days, more woodsy. She must have changed how she washed it after she started growing it out.

Suki makes a little grunting noise and curls closer to him. Sokka closes his eyes and curls back.

Two and a half weeks later, when he leaves Kyoshi Island to head to Omashu, there's a shadow in Suki's eyes as she waves goodbye that he's never seen before. Sokka stands on the edge of the ship as it cuts through the water, watching her figure grow smaller and smaller on the pier, and feels something heavy settle in his chest.

//

The next time they meet in person, it's at some kind of peace thing at Chameleon Bay. Sokka doesn't pay too much attention to the specifics; he's mostly there just as a consultant for his dad. He waves at Zuko across the room, then makes his way through the tent they'd constructed for this (seriously, how are they still using tents, Sokka had enough of those during the war) and ducks out to get some air.

It's a new moon tonight. Sokka picks his way across the sand cautiously and ends up stepping in the water entirely by accident. He strips off his shoes and sets them out to dry, then decides he might as well dip his feet in the water if they're already wet.

The sand crunches behind him. "Doing some late night thinking?"

"Excuse me? I'm always thinking," Sokka says, rapping his knuckles against his head. Suki sits down beside him, keeping her shoes a safe distance away from the water. "Never stops, this thing. I'm just full of ideas."

"Oh, like that time you wanted to tie Momo to a balloon to see how high he'd go?"

Sokka had suggested that idea years ago. "I still stand by that, by the way. If it wasn't for Aang and his pesky opposition to animal cruelty, we'd know the true capabilities of flying lemurs by now."

Suki huffs out a soft laugh. Together, they stare out over the water in silence. The bay is like a black mirror.

"I don't think this is working," Suki says abruptly.

"No," Sokka agrees, even as his heart fractures in his chest. He knew this was coming, but he still finds it hard to breathe. "I don't think so, either."

They talk through it. Through what worked, and what didn't, and how they still love each other. How Suki doesn't see an end in sight when it comes to her current service to Zuko, and how she can't leave her Warriors. How Sokka travels too much for her to come with him. They eventually agree that, from here on out, best friends is the better option.

He kisses her on the cheek before he goes, just as a last goodbye. The scar is an unfamiliar line beneath his lips. He still doesn't know how she got it.

III. THE SUN

Fierce, unrelenting

Shining on the palace and

the field all the same

//

Zuko is...unexpected.

Sure, he's the first real guy friend Sokka's ever made who's around his age. Sure, Sokka admires him for his drive, his willpower, his unwavering commitment to doing the right thing. And sure, Sokka thinks he's hot—but that's an objective opinion! Everyone thinks Zuko's hot!

Then Sokka (Ambassador Sokka, now, because the last guy had gone and inconveniently had kids) had walked into the training rooms this morning, and he'd gotten an eyeful of a shirtless Zuko going at a training dummy—no fire, no swords, just a white wrapping around his fists and pure muscle. And damn, was there muscle.

So anyway. Sokka's opinion on Zuko has rapidly rescrambled itself in the last twenty-four hours. What was once my good buddy is now hnnnnnrghhh. So he'd gone to Suki (still a guard, after all these years; they would've broken up sooner or later) for advice, but he'd forgotten that she's a cruel, cruel person, and now he's getting laughed at.

"You're supposed to be on my side," Sokka complains. Suki pats him on the head.

"I am on your side," she says. "I just have to tease you about it first."

//

Sokka has a plan. It has fifteen steps and sub-plans for every major contingency Sokka can think of. He's going to take Zuko out on the Festival of Light. He'll buy him all his favourite foods and win him a bunch of cheesy prizes. Then he'll walk with Zuko back to the turtleduck gardens, and he'll give a heartfelt confession, and then he'll kiss him.

Yue and Suki both kissed him first, so Sokka is determined to be first this time. He thinks his odds are good. Zuko's so awkward and socially stunted. He'd never—

Zuko leans over and kisses him when they're still on Step Nine of the plan.

Well. Three for three, then. Sokka's not complaining, not as his head goes fuzzy with warmth and he runs his fingers through Zuko's hair to tug him closer, but he'd really thought he had it this time.

//

When Zuko gets off the ship, windswept and red-cheeked and looking altogether terrified, Sokka lets out a whoop!

"I knew you could do it!" he yells, running forward to sling an arm around Zuko's shoulders and haul him in for a kiss. On Zuko's forehead, the Mark of the Trusted stands out like a beacon, proclaiming to everyone who sees him that he's passed his ice-dodging trial. Behind Zuko, Dad gets off the ship with a faint smile.

"He performed very well," Dad says. "He earned his Mark fair and square."

Sokka leans in to nuzzle his nose against Zuko's cheek. "Hear that, Hotman?" he crows in Zuko's ear. "You're a man of the tribe now, fair and square!"

"Alright, I get it, now stop yelling before you destroy my hearing," Zuko says, pushing half-heartedly at Sokka's chest. He accepts the kiss Sokka plants on him with minimal grumbling, and he's adorably flushed when Sokka pulls away.

"C'mon, c'mon," Sokka says, tugging him on. "Gran Gran made your favourite to celebrate."

"What—already? You didn't even know if I'd pass!"

Sokka scoffs. "Like any of us ever even thought about the idea of you failing," he says, and revels in how Zuko goes pink. (Katara did have some doubts, but Sokka's not gonna be the one to tell Zuko that.) 

Dinner is wonderful. It's Sokka's family—well, half of his family, since Aang and Toph and Suki aren't here—warm and together, gathered around a fire that Zuko started. Zuko refuses to wipe off his Mark until it gets smudged off, which makes Sokka feel warm and glowy inside. He's leaning over to press a kiss to Zuko's cheek (to Dad's embarrassment, Katara's disgust, and Gran Gran's amusement) when the Fire Nation ambassador ducks his head inside.

"Urgent letter for you, my Lord," he says, waving a sealed scroll. Zuko frowns, looking back at everyone else. 

"I—" he starts, clearly frustrated, and then stops. "Um. How urgent?"

The ambassador's face takes on a very stressed quality. Zuko sighs, then turns to Sokka. 

"Keep my soup warm for me?" he asks. Sokka reaches out to take his bowl with a resigned smile.

"Yeah, 'course," he says, going for another kiss. Ah, paperwork. Such is the struggle of dating the Fire Lord. "Come back soon."

"As soon as I can," Zuko promises, unfolding himself from his seat and following the ambassador outside. Sokka covers his bowl to keep it from cooling too fast, then turns back to his family and listens to his dad regale the story of his own ice-dodging trial for, like, the twentieth time.

Zuko doesn't come back until the fire's already died down to embers. Sokka, who'd fallen asleep sitting up without realising, jolts awake as he comes in. He's alone, Gran Gran and Dad and Katara all having returned to their own places hours ago.

"Sorry, sorry," Zuko whispers, pressing a hurried kiss to Sokka's cheek. He's a blue shadow in the dark, a vague outline of someone Sokka loves. "You good? Why are you sitting up?"

Sokka yawns. "Waiting f'r you," he mumbles. "Think your soup's cold."

Zuko huffs out a laugh. "That's okay," he says. "I'll have it for breakfast. Come on, let's get you to bed."

Together, the two of them trip and stumble their way into bed. Zuko draws the furs up over them and does his little fire breath trick, heating the space between them so quickly it almost hurts. Sokka lets out a content sigh and snuggles closer.

"My favourite little heat pack," he coos, aiming a kiss for Zuko's mouth and hitting his nose instead. Zuko's answering exhale is a warm puff on his face.

"I'll let that go because you're sleepy," he says, running a hand down Sokka's back and pulling him closer. "Go to sleep, Sokka. I'll be here when you wake up."

//

"Happy birthday, baby."

"...My birthday isn't for another month," Zuko says, squinting suspiciously. Also just squinting in general because it's the asscrack of dawn. Zuko's packed with meetings for the next week, so Sokka has had to resort to being a morning person for this. Ugh.

"Early present," Sokka says, handing him his gift. It isn't really for his birthday; Sokka had just been too excited to give it to him and he needed an excuse. "Go ahead, open it." 

"Did you...wrap a piece of paper in another piece of paper?"

"It's a gift! You wrap gifts!"

"Not when it's a piece of paper!"

"You're impossible. Just open the damn present, Zuko."

"Okay, okay." Zuko props himself up on his elbows—the blankets slip down as he does, giving Sokka a nice view of his bare chest—and unwraps the gift. It is, in fact, a piece of paper, but it's not just any piece of paper.

Zuko stares at it for a long handful of moments.

"I recognise this style," he finally says, his voice carrying a note of awe. "It's the royal portrait painter."

"Yep! Tracked her down myself," Sokka says proudly. Luckily for him, the painter had been able to draw Zuko's likeness from memory, or else Sokka would've had to make him sit for a painting session and the whole surprise would've been ruined. "D'you like it?"

Zuko ghosts a finger down the paper. The message is clear: it's a picture of him and Sokka, standing together, their hands intertwined. They're unmistakably a couple, and drawn in the style that all royal couples are drawn in. If Zuko wanted to hang this in the hall with all the portraits of his forefathers, it wouldn't look out of place.

"Thank you, Sokka," Zuko says softly. He leans up for a kiss. Like always, it makes Sokka feel like a campfire is flickering to life in his chest. "I love it. And I love you."

"Love you too," Sokka murmurs against his lips. "Now, do you want to see the version with Wang Fire?"

"I'm sorry, the version with what—"

//

"Look, I hate to say it," Sokka says, squinting down at the paper, "but I think we're gonna have to kill this guy, Zuko."

Zuko sighs, throwing himself back in his chair. His hair, released from its headache-inducing topknot prison hours ago, tumbles over his shoulders in a slightly-greasy wave. Sokka knows for a fact he hasn't washed it in a while.

It's late—as in, 'closer to sunrise than not' late—and Zuko is going to work himself into an early grave if he keeps deliberating about this criminal any longer. Sokka stares down at the picture of the man. He's fairly young. Clean-shaven. Decently good-looking. If Sokka passed him on the street, he never would've guessed that the guy had kidnapped five palace guards and eviscerated them to send a message to the Fire Lord using their entrails. And that's not even touching on all the buildings he's blown up, or the people he's convinced to die for his cause.

"I can't kill him," Zuko says to the ceiling. "It's—it'll set an example. I've gone this long without executing anyone. If I kill him, the message it will send—"

"Okay, but consider this: he's fucking insane," Sokka points out. "You can't just stick this guy in a jail cell and let him rot, Zuko. "

"Yes, I can," Zuko snaps. "It worked with my father, didn't it?"

"Your asshole dad had his bending taken away first. This guy doesn't even have bending to take away! There's nothing you can do to weaken him!"

"But I can't execute him!" Zuko bursts out. "I can't be seen as someone who just—kills people who don't agree with me."

"This is a bit more extreme than just not agreeing with you, Zu."

"Look, execution is off the table, okay?" Zuko snaps. "I'll come up with something else. I always do."

Sokka sighs. He knows a lost fight when he sees one, so he puts the execution argument aside for now. "Okay, fine," he says, before leaning across the table to cup Zuko's jaw in his hand. "Can you think of something else tomorrow, then? Your eye bags are nearly bigger than your actual eyes."

"Just what every man wants to hear from his boyfriend," Zuko says dryly, but he leans into Sokka's touch nonetheless. "But no, I need to have at least one idea by morning. You go to bed first."

"You know I can't sleep without you."

"You can and you do," Zuko says. "You complain when I come to bed because I run hot and I make you sweaty."

"Lies and slander." Sokka kisses him, slow and sweet. It's a little bit of a bribe, but he's hoping Zuko's too sleep-deprived to realise. "No one will care if you take an extra day to figure out what to do with this guy. Come to bed?"

For a second, Zuko leans in, his eyelids fluttering, and Sokka thinks he's won. But then Zuko sighs, his shoulders slumping, and he moves back. Away from Sokka.

"I can't," he says. "I have to do this. I'm sorry, Sokka."

The words are like a bucket of ice water down Sokka's spine.

I have to do this, Yue had said, years ago, as she pulled her hand away from Sokka and reached for the Moon Spirit instead. Sokka swallows, shaking off the memory. He curls his finger around a strand of Zuko's hair and tugs once before letting go.

"Okay," he says quietly, and hopes his voice doesn't waver. "See you in the morning?"

"See you in the morning," Zuko promises. He kisses Sokka again, just once, before Sokka moves to go to bed.

By the time Sokka wakes up, Zuko is already gone. In fact, he's not sure Zuko ever came to bed at all. But there's a covered dish on Sokka's bedside table. When he lifts the cover, he finds an array of his favourite street foods, all of them still miraculously warm. 

Sorry for last night, reads the accompanying note, in handwriting that's neat enough to mean that Zuko took his time writing it. Hope this makes up for it, at least a little.

The stalls these foods come from are scattered all over the city. Zuko must've spent at least an hour collecting them, especially if he waited in line. Sokka reaches for the fried komodo chicken on a skewer, warmth blooming in his chest.

It's not quite enough to overcome the ice from last night. Sokka tries to ignore it, and fails.

//

Sokka starts carving the betrothal necklace in secret.

It's not like it's unexpected or anything. He and Zuko have been together for years, and Sokka wants to do it, to take this next step. The necklace is something they've reintroduced in the South in recent years, and the carving doesn't come easy to him, but he gets the hang of it in the end. He could've asked his dad to help him, but he doesn't. He doesn't tell his dad; he doesn't tell anyone, not even Katara, and he's not quite sure why.

Years ago, he'd come close to carving one for Suki. He'd had a design in mind and everything, had even gone to a market once to test out suitable material for the ribbon. But he'd never actually gotten around to making it. He'd told himself he would make it when they were more settled and they saw each other more than five times a year. They'd broken up before they ever got to that point.

He's about halfway through the carving when he actually stops to think about it.

He envisions it: a lifetime with Zuko. A lifetime of laughter, and lazy mornings together, and kisses by the turtleduck pond. It would be perfect, if only...

I have to do this, Zuko had said, that one night. He did come up with something else in the end for that man, a complicated mix of imprisonment and punishment. It took him three sleepless nights; Sokka didn't see him for eighty hours straight. 

A lifetime with Zuko means a lifetime with Fire Lord Zuko. And Sokka can handle it, really. He can, he knows he can. He wouldn't have lasted so long dating Zuko if he couldn't. The only thing is—

The thing is, he's not sure if Zuko can handle it.

Zuko throws himself at everything he does with the same intensity, the same passion. He puts all of himself into everything. It's what makes him a good leader. A good person. And Sokka loves him for it, he really does, but...

But Zuko can't give everything he has to Sokka and everything he has to his nation at once. He's already stretching himself too thin. Sokka sees it every day, in how he does his best to juggle his time between his duties and their relationship. But it's not sustainable for Zuko. He'd have to prioritise one or the other at some point, and Sokka...

Sokka doesn't know which one he'd choose. Sokka doesn't think Zuko would choose. He would think of something else, a third option, if it meant he'd be able to devote himself entirely to everything he loved. The only problem is that a third option would benefit everyone but Zuko himself.

Zuko is the Fire Lord. He cannot—he will not—compromise his nation for anything, even himself. Sokka knows this. He knows that Zuko would give up any of his own happiness in a heartbeat if it meant serving his country in any way.

He knows that Zuko would find it much harder to give up Sokka's happiness for his nation. Unfortunately for the both of them, Sokka's not happy unless Zuko is happy, so it seems they've come to an impasse.

When Sokka thinks back on this, years down the road, he will know that it was the beginning of the end.

//

"If I asked you to marry me," Sokka says, "would you say yes?"

Zuko's brush snaps cleanly in two. He stays there, frozen over his work, his hand still raised in the air as the two halves clatter to the desk.

Slowly, he lifts his head. His eyes are wide. 

"Let me rephrase," Sokka says, watching him carefully from his chair on the other side of the room. "Would you want to say yes?"

Zuko wets his lips. Nods, the movement jerky like a broken bobblehead, before he croaks out, "I—yes, Sokka, of course, but where are you going with—"

"Okay," Sokka interrupts. He leans forward and props his chin on his palm. "You want to say yes. Does your nation want you to say yes?"

Zuko goes pale.

"I—what?" He stares at Sokka. "I...I mean, there'd be—there'd be a lot to think about. There's the logistics, and our new alliance with the South, and..."

He trails off, obviously thinking of a dozen other things that his marriage to Sokka would complicate. A shadow passes over his face.

"There'd be the matter of an heir," he says carefully. "But...I'd find a way."

Of course he would. He always does, even if it kills him. 

Sokka nods swiftly, then gets to his feet, wiping his suddenly sweaty palms on his trousers.

"Okay," he says, his voice tight. His heart is swelling and shrinking at the same time. The unfinished betrothal necklace sits in his hidden inside pocket, a leaden weight. "Okay."

Zuko lurches forward, looking like he's watching the world fall apart in front of him. "Wait, no—Sokka—"

Sokka holds up a hand. "No, don't worry about it," he says, and he manages a thin smile. "I get it. It's not your fault."

"It's not...Sokka. Sokka, are we—are we okay?"

Zuko's voice breaks on the last word. Sokka knows how cruel he's being right now, springing this on Zuko with no warning, but...he also knows that giving Zuko a warning wouldn't have made it better. This part of Zuko—this devotion he has, this willingness to offer all of himself—is something that's never going to change. Zuko is a man who gives up everything for the people he loves. Sokka knows he's one of them; it's just his luck that he has to share that title with the entirety of the Fire Nation.

"We're okay," Sokka says, and Zuko sags in relief. For now, Sokka adds in his head, and doesn't say aloud.

He's cruel, but he's not that cruel. He'll cling to this for as long as he has it. 

//

With Zuko, there's no clean break. There's no body in his arms, no honest conversation by the water. The two of them tiptoe around each other for months, both of them knowing what's happening and neither of them wanting to admit it.

Sokka doesn't finish the betrothal necklace. There's no point. He loves Zuko too much to make him choose like that. He just also loves Zuko too much to throw the necklace away.

Their kisses start to linger, like they don't expect another one the next time they see each other. There's a certain note of desperation in how Zuko cups Sokka's jaw with his hands. When Sokka receives the offer to oversee the burgeoning council of Republic City, he silently hands the letter to Zuko to let him read.

Zuko scans the letter, then puts it down. He looks up and meets Sokka's eyes. A silent understanding passes between them.

"I'll start packing my things," Sokka says, and Zuko briefly closes his eyes. He swallows. Sokka tracks the motion of his throat and wishes he could kiss it.

If Zuko disagrees, then Sokka will stay. He'll throw everything to the wind and stay. 

"I'll arrange for an airship," Zuko finally says, his voice rough. "You'll leave at the end of the month."

He ends the sentence with a glance at Sokka, almost pleading. Sokka knows what he's asking. If Sokka wants, then he can stop this in its tracks. If he says something now, then Zuko won't make plans for an airship, and Sokka won't leave him behind. They can stay together if Sokka just says something.

He doesn't.

//

Sokka leaves the necklace when he goes, tucking it under Zuko's pillow. It's still unfinished, but Zuko will know what it is. It's an offer: an avenue that Sokka's silently leaving open. If Zuko wants to try again, then he knows what to do.

The next time Sokka sees him, Zuko's throat is bare.

Sokka curls his hand into a fist behind his back, squeezes until his nails sink into his palm, and then relaxes his fingers. He accepts the hug that Zuko offers him. Zuko's arms wrap around his ribs, and Sokka's automatically go around his waist.

They hold each other for a moment. Then, at last, they let go.

IV. THE MAN

Struggle? Anguish? No—

not always. Not full of it.

There were good parts too.

//

In an office in Republic City, a courier knocks on the door and peeks in to find it empty. She sees the candle burning low on the table and hurries to blow it out before it can drip wax on Councilman Sokka's papers. Without the candle, the office drops into blue darkness, lit only by the glow of the full moon.

The courier considers her cargo: two letters, both folded neatly and addressed simply to Sokka. One is from Kyoshi Island, and it's got a bit of weight to it, like its writer has enclosed a small gift inside. The other has come direct from the Caldera, the paper crisp and high-quality. There had been a second note attached to that one, instructing the hawkmaster to take good care of the bird that delivered it.

The courier sets both of them down on the desk. She arranges them in a patch of light so that they're clearly visible. Then she ducks out of the office, leaving the moon to watch over the letters until the Councilman returns.