Leilani loved storms, and thus she’d slipped out of the palace while it raged around her, dancing to the beat of the thunder and bending the water around her into forms with no purpose at all.

At some point that night, she looked up and saw a figure teetering on the edge of the rooftop, barely keeping its footing between the wind and the rain. A flash of lighting briefly illuminated his face — it wasn’t a face that was easy to forget or misplace.

“…Zuko?” she whispered, stopping and watching him. Whatever he was doing up there, it couldn’t be good. She began to run towards him.

And then he slipped — or had he jumped? From her angle, it was impossible to tell. Barely, just barely, he caught himself on a pole protruding from the wall and dangled there, tossed about by the wind, on the edge of slipping again — or letting go.

Quickly, she bent water around her and froze it under her feet, then shot herself from the ground to the roof. As soon as her feet touched the rain-slicked tile, she lunged for Zuko, grabbing hold of his wrist and icing their arms together.

His other hand — the one holding the pole — was covered with blood and what looked like glass. But somehow, between the two of them, they managed to get him back up on the roof. After dragging him away from the edge, Leilani melted the ice and used the water to form a globe around Zuko’s bloody hand. She didn’t, however, heal; instead, she reached inside and gently began drawing the glass from it.

“I think I’m going crazy,” he whispered, watching his hand, not even flinching when she pulled the pieces out.

“Why?” she asked him.

“I can’t remember climbing up here. I can’t remember… if I jumped.”

Leilani considered this as she continued to extract the glass. “I think you slipped,” she said at last. “I saw you up here; it looked like you were turning away.”

“…oh. Good,” he said, frowning at his hand.

“What do you remember?”

He considered for a minute. “Bits and pieces. I remember breaking the window. I remember redirecting a lightning bolt that almost hit me. I remember watching you playing in the rain. I remember catching myself on that pole…”

She nodded as she took her hand from the now-red globe. “Come on. Let’s get out of the wet.”

He nodded as well, and stood up. “…are you all right?” he asked, finally remembering that he hadn’t been much help getting back on the roof, between his injured hand and the fact that something felt off about that shoulder, and that he outweighed the healer by a fair amount.

She smiled at him. “I’ve dealt with soldiers since I was Kouji’s age. I’m stronger than I look.” That said, she gently led him inside and directed him to the infirmary.

He didn’t resist or object. His shoulder was aching, and it was entirely possible that there was still glass in his hand.

Which was probably why she hadn’t healed it herself. She got him inside, sat him down, and started to search for the doctor on staff.

He was a young, thin, nervous-looking young man. The fact that he was pulling glass out of his monarch’s hand and fixing said monarch’s dislocated shoulder didn’t help to dispell it.

When he was done, Leilani thanked him sweetly, reminded him that discretion might be needed in this case – most likely a code for don’t tell Doctor Chang – and took over, healing the cuts in Zuko’s hand so nobody would ask questions in the morning.

“Thank you,” he remembered to say, still staring at the hand. “…I should go clean up my room. There’s probably glass everywhere.”

“Right,” she said, standing up with him.

He realized she was going to follow him. After a moment, he realized that that might not be such a bad idea. I may have tried to kill myself tonight, and I don’t remember.

She did indeed follow him, and helped him straighten as well. She even dried both of them off and used the water to make a temporary cover for the window.

He considered trying to sleep for a while, then figured it would be useless — if he managed to fall asleep at all, he’d just have more nightmares. Instead, he settled himself at his desk to reconstruct whatever papers had been destroyed by the rain blowing through the broken window.

When Leilani finished, she settled herself in a corner to keep an eye on him.

He didn’t comment, didn’t say anything, just rubbed at his shoulder and rewrote.

The storm blew itself out just before dawn.

Kouji arrived soon after, looking tired, but he paused on entering the room. “…Zuko, why is Leilani sleeping in the corner?”

Zuko looked up, then stood and stretched. His sleeve was still bloody, as was his carpet. “What time is it?” was all he said.

“…about seven?” Kouji said, trying not to stare at the blood.

“…I should clean up and change.”

“Yeah, probably,” the boy replied.

Rubbing at his shoulder again, the Firelord went into an inner room to do so.

When he returned, Leilani was gone, and Kouji hugged him tightly.

“…she told you?”

“Yeah.”

“…I’m sorry. I don’t know what — I don’t know what happened last night. Really. And…” He shook himself. “I should… do you have my schedule? I think it’s one of the papers that got soaked…”

“Here.” Kouji passed him the slip of paper, looking up at Zuko with a worried expression.

Zuko stared at it for a long moment, willing it to make sense. Something was wrong, broken inside his mind, he couldn’t think straight. He rubbed at his shoulder again.

Kouji hugged him again, and this time the boy didn’t let go.

“…what do I do now?” I can’t leave a madman on the throne, what the hell is wrong with me? There’s no one else, I have to fix this.

“I don’t know, Zuko.” He looked up at him. “But I think you should ask your uncle to take over today.”

“…all right.”

Kouji nodded and went with him to Iroh’s room.

Iroh knew something was wrong as soon as he opened his door to admit them. “…What happened?”

“I…” Zuko hesitated. “I think… I think maybe you should take over today? Just for today. I promise. Tomorrow, I’ll… something. I don’t… please?”

Behind Zuko, Kouji was giving Iroh a pleading puppy stare.

“Of course,” Iroh said immediately. Kouji needn’t have looked at him like that, Zuko’s incoherency was more than enough to convince him.

“Thank you,” the boy said softly, plucking the schedule from Zuko’s hands and giving it to Iroh.

“You’re welcome,” the old general replied, taking the schedule.

Kouji managed a smile, then gently steered Zuko away.

Zuko allowed himself to be led, trying to keep himself at least externally together to avoid too many rumours.

Once they were in the room, Kouji examined the broken window — Leilani had taken the ice with her when she left — and carefully plucked the remaining shards of glass from it to dispose of in the waste bin before using earthbending to closed it away.

“Thank you,” Zuko said, quietly, sitting cross-legged on the edge of his bed.

“No problem,” said the boy, turning away from the window and tucking some of his overlong hair behind his ear.

“…You need a haircut.”

“Doctor Chang said that too.”

“Did he say when you get your cast off?”

“I think next week.”

“Good. That’s good.”

Kouji joined him on the bed, but didn’t say anything.

Zuko was silent for a long moment, staring at his hands. I have to talk about this. I don’t want to talk about this. “I’ve been having nightmares,” he finally said.

The boy looked up at him. “What about?”

He shrugged his good shoulder. “Usual stuff. Only worse.”

“…her?”

“They’ve been getting worse since I killed her,” Zuko agreed.

Wordlessly, Kouji wrapped his arms around Zuko’s torso and hugged him.

“It’s never been this bad before. I mean, I’ve been dreaming for years, but this past month…” He shivered a little. “I wake up after two hours, sometimes less.”

“…oh, Zuko,” whispered Kouji, his eyes going wide. He hadn’t realised it was that bad.

“I have to fix this. But I don’t know how.”

“Neither do I,” Kouji admitted.

“I can’t just hide in here forever. I mean, for today it’s okay, I guess, I’m still… I don’t know if I jumped or slipped, I can’t remember, and that…” He bit his lip, then, in a very small voice, “It scares me.”

In response to that, Kouji leaned against Zuko, trying to comfort the Firelord as best he could. He wasn’t good with words, but physical contact with Yui had always worked, and so he tried it with Zuko now.

It seemed to help some — the older boy calmed down a bit. He rubbed at his temples. “Should I try and sleep, d’you think?”

“Can’t hurt,” Kouji replied.

Until I start dreaming. “All right, then.”

The boy released the Firelord so he could lie down. “I’ll stay with you.”

“Probably a good idea.” In case I break again.

Kouji watched him with worried grey eyes.

Zuko curled up and stared at the hastily-repaired window until he drifted off.

He didn’t sleep for very long — he jerked awake about an hour and a half later, shaking. Immediately a small hand slid into his, and Kouji murmured, “I’m here, Zuko.” The Firelord gripped his hand perhaps a little tighter than was strictly necessary, and sat up, still shaking a little.

“Was it… very bad?” Kouji asked. He’d already been sitting up, and now leaned into Zuko again to spread body contact.

“…yeah,” he whispered.

“I wish I could help…”

“…me, too…”

Kouji turned, slipping his hand from Zuko’s so he could hug the Firelord tightly.

Zuko froze for a minute, then hugged back, a little uncertainly.

“I’ll do what I can for you, brother,” whispered the boy.

“Thanks…”

Kouji hesitated, then asked, “What did you dream?”

He was silent for a long moment, then reached up and touched his scar. “This. The day it happened.”

Kouji craned his neck to follow Zuko’s arm and see what he was referring to. “…what did happen?”

Another long silence. “I… spoke up when I shouldn’t have. And Father…” He trailed off.

Kouji froze as the implications of this sank in.

“He said I had to answer for my disrespect,” Zuko continued woodenly. “We fought an Agni Kai. I lost. Well, actually, I refused to fight back.”

“And he… he did that to you?”

“Yeah.”

Kouji’s hug grew tighter, as if by holding the Firelord he could somehow lessen the emotional scarring and remembered pain.

“My sister was there. She saw the whole thing.”

The boy’s body tensed, and his ears coloured slightly red.

“I saw her, just before I blacked out. She was smiling.”

A shudder. “Oh, Zuko…”

The Firelord didn’t reply, didn’t say anything more, just sat there, wondering why he’d said so much — he’d never told anyone that story, especially not that last bit. A lot of people knew — there had been an audience, of course, and many of them had spread the story — but he’d never told anyone. He’d never talked about it to anyone who didn’t know already.

And even then, he avoided the subject.

Kouji, too, didn’t speak again, but he also didn’t relinquish his hold on Zuko.

Current Location: my bed
Current Mood: hungry
Current Music: Back Home In Derry - John Close
Tags: au, avatar, blood lines, fanfic

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