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Moving as silently as a cat-owl, Toph slipped out the side door of the reception and into a quiet hallway. Taking quick stock of the layout of the building with her seismic senses, she headed for the closest private place away from the serving staff and other guests, a balcony on the south side of the building. When she opened the doors and the cool night air hit her face, she allowed herself to take a deep breath, and let some of the tension leave her shoulders.
The funeral was beautiful, really. Enormously well-attended, with people from all over the nations, it had to be held in the council building, the only space big enough to seat all the attendees, and the program was broadcast over the radio for those who couldn’t attend in-person. Aang gave an incredible eulogy, both moving and sincere, professional yet personal. In the water tribe tradition, Katara read an oral history of her family tree, interspersed with personal anecdotes from her own life, and she managed to keep her composure right up until the very end when she had to stop from the tears, and Aang helped walk her off the stage.
At the reception afterwards, even though the mood was somber, the food and drink were incredible, and there was a poetry reading, and an art exhibit, and an open mic just for telling jokes and stories. After a few of these was when Toph knew she had to leave.
Because it was beautiful, and it was exactly what he would have wanted, but Sokka was dead. And the world wasn’t right anymore.
She walked to the edge of the balcony rail and leaned on her elbows, the wind blowing her bangs away from her face and bringing with it the scent of the ocean nearby. Even that was a reminder of him.
She hadn’t cried, not yet. She wasn’t even sure if she could. Her chest felt hollow, heavy, scraped out like a melon, and the raw edges ached and burned.
Her girls had cried. Su, of course, but even stoic Lin, the youngest sergeant in her squad, as tough and unmovable as earth itself, had wept at the news. Toph had held them both there, in her office, until the first round of tears dried. Now they were with their cousins at the reception, hopefully finding some smiles again while reminiscing about their late uncle Sokka. Toph wasn’t worried about her daughters, not really. They were adults, or at least in Su’s case, only a few years shy, and they would be okay. Their hearts would heal, with time.
As for herself, though, the answers were not so simple.
She felt the approaching footsteps a ways off, and stiffened. There was a chance they’d turn, or were heading for a different part of the building. But no, they carried straight on towards her balcony, towards her few minutes of solitude. She sighed, but by now she knew who the footsteps belonged to, so she stayed where she was.
A few seconds later, the balcony doors opened, and two imperial bodyguards stepped through.
“Ah. My apologies, Toph. I didn’t realize there was someone here.” said Fire Lord Zuko, walking in behind them.
She turned her head to show him a small smile. “No problem, Sparky. You’re not interrupting anything important.” She waved a hand at the guards. “You know my officers are always available to do a damn good job protecting you while you’re in town, if your people ever need a break.”
The two bodyguards stiffened indignantly, but Zuko just laughed. “I’m sure that won’t be necessary, but I appreciate the offer.” He turned to face them and they snapped to stiffer attention. “Shibata, Fukuda, you two can wait inside. I’d like to visit with Chief Beifong privately for a little while.”
“Yes, Lord Zuko.” said the taller of the two and they both bowed respectfully, before going back inside and shutting the door with a click. Toph felt them settle into parade rest on either side of the door. She tilted her head towards it. “They’re good. Not even a peep about staying in eyeshot for your own safety.”
Zuko came to join her against the railing. “That’s less of a concern in the fire nation. Those in the royal family have always been very capable of defending themselves, as we both know.”
“Even now?” she quipped, slipping into old habits of conversation. “You’re getting old. Looking more and more like Iroh every time I see you.”
He smiled at that, and she felt him lean against the railing, matching her pose. “That isn’t so bad. But, if I’m anything like him, I’m barely halfway through my life. I have a lot of time left.”
Suddenly, the reminder came back why they were here, and the levity dropped from the conversation.
“We all do. Or we all did.” she said, and her voice was suddenly thicker, harder to get out. “55. Too damn young. I honestly thought he’d outlive all of us.”
“I thought so too. He had the spirit for it. I miss him, deeply.” Zuko said, and his voice held a note of sadness deep enough to rival her own.
It was nighttime in Republic City, and Toph knew she couldn’t stay out on this balcony too long without being missed by people in the reception. Eventually someone would come looking for her, so the time was brief.
But standing here with Zuko, the weight of the loss hanging on her shoulders, she was struck by a sudden urge to be truthful, in a way she’d never been before.
“He was Suyin’s father.” she said. And the words sat there, out in the open air. Saying them felt freeing, felt right.
Zuko didn’t respond, but he reached his hand over and placed it gently on her forearm, comfortingly.
She trusted Zuko. They didn’t see each other much these years, but she knew he was safe. And if there was a time for this secret to be told, it was now. Even if it was just the two of them.
“We were together for just over a year.” she continued. “We didn’t tell anyone. With my work as chief and his political ambitions it didn’t make sense to come out about it publicly. And it made sense in the long run, we were never meant for anything long term, and I accepted that, with time. Sokka has--had,” she corrected herself, “so much passion for everything, all at once. It was hard for him to slow down enough for the smaller things. And he was ambitious, and successful, and happiest when consumed utterly with doing what he loved. Which, honestly, is what we had most in common.” She sighed, as the memories sprang unbidden. It was so long ago, but the feelings pulled at her heart just the same. “And so it ended as quickly as it had began. And afterwards, everything was basically the same. Life carried on. And I got Su out of it, which was wonderful.”
Zuko shifted next to her. “If I may, why wasn’t Sokka more involved, as her father? Surely he knew. Or at least, suspected.” His tone wasn’t accusatory at all, just thoughtful.
Toph shook her head. “I didn’t want him to be. I don’t parent by committee, and my kids are just that, mine. And I think, deep down, he was content with that. We never really spoke about it, after she was born. And he was always so busy and passionate about his ambassadorship, his campaigns, and his travels. He was an excellent uncle, but I honestly don’t know if he would have been as happy in any other role.”
She turned her head and gave Zuko a rueful half-smile. “I appreciate you listening to all of this. It feels good to tell someone, after all these years.”
He gave her arm a squeeze then settled back, tucking his hands into the sleeves of his robe. “I’m happy to. And I’m glad you told me. It doesn’t surprise me you two were involved, if I’m being honest. Sokka was...an amazing man.”
Something in his tone caught her attention, and she waited for him to continue.
Zuko took a deep breath. “After the war, during the beginning of reconstruction and before Mai and I got back together, Sokka lived in the Fire Nation for almost a year. He helped me begin to navigate the logistics of rolling back hundreds of thousands of troops and a hundred years of colonization all over the world.”
Toph nodded, remembering.
Zuko continued. “His help was invaluable. I was newly-crowned, and suddenly bearing the full weight and responsibility for the crimes of my people, and he was somehow able to transform complex problems that perplexed my most senior generals into simple, practical plans of action.” His body relaxed a bit, the posture of Fire Lord making way for something more natural. “And it was more than that. Sure I had Iroh, but seeing another familiar and friendly face, someone who wasn’t immediately expecting so much of me, made those first months of transition bearable. I had a friend who understood who I was, who I really was, not who I’d been as a child at court, and who had shared the experience of the war from the avatar’s side, not the fire nation’s. We...grew very close.”
Toph clasped her hands in front of her, carefully. “What kind of close?” she asked.
Zuko inclined his head slightly, and she heard the edge of sadness slip back into his voice. “We were lovers.”
Toph found herself unsurprised. Somehow, it made sense.
“Like you, not for very long.” Zuko continued. “Just for the summer he was there. Eventually he had to leave, and after that Mai and I reconnected and, well, here we are.” He chuckled, humourlessly. “But, he’s hard to let go of, completely.” His head tilted towards hers. “Which I think you understand too.”
In any other circumstance she would have laughed at it all, but instead she just smiled, and the ache in her chest throbbed in time with her heartbeat. “Yes. He was a hell of a person. We were lucky to know him.”
“As much as we did.” Zuko said.
“As much as we did.” she agreed.
Zuko’s voice picked up a stronger note, almost hopeful. “You know, years ago I would have been angry about it. At the injustice, at the futility of the loss. And, if I’m being perfectly honest, I still feel that anger, burning inside of me.” He touched his chest thoughtfully. “But I think the force of Sokka’s spirit, of his memory, overpowers all of it. He was an incredible man. Brilliant, absurd, with a heart too big for just one person. He loved his tribe, this city, the people of the world, so much. He was eccentric and driven and endlessly thoughtful, and completely unable to slow down long enough to truly give his heart away.” Toph heard a smile creep in around the edge of his words, and he shook his head. “I really am starting to sound too much like my uncle.”
She reached out and linked her arm through his, pulling herself in until they were shoulder-to-shoulder. “That isn’t so bad.” she said, kindly.
They stood like that for a long time, the breeze pulling at her hair and at the silky fabric of Zuko’s robes. The Fire Lord and the Chief of Police, together, mourning the man they’d both loved and lost.
Eventually, she broke the silence. “He was utterly ridiculous, though. I heard his poetry. It never got good, not even after 30 years of practice.”
Zuko’s laugh was deep and long, cutting through the silence like warm sunlight and brightening the moment. “I wish you could see his art. Everyone’s downstairs admiring the gallery and they’re just terrible. Almost as bad as his jokes were.” he replied.
She laughed too, and they stayed like that for a few minutes, the laughter turning the grief into something a little lighter, if only for a moment.
Eventually Zuko straightened, and gave her arm a squeeze where it was linked with his. “Unfortunately, I think duty calls again. I can’t be disappearing for too long from public events.”
She unlinked her arm from his and adjusted her armor. “I understand. No problem at all.”
“Thank you, Toph. It was nice to visit with you.” Zuko said, and he began to bow but she stepped forward and interrupted it, hugging him instead.
“No you don’t, Sparky. We hug, remember?” she said, squeezing him with a little more force than necessary.
He chuckled, and hugged her back. “You’re absolutely right.”
She let him go, and he crossed back towards the balcony doors. Before he opened them, he turned back towards her. “Goodnight, Toph. I’m grateful to have you as my friend.”
She smiled at him. “I’m grateful for that too, Zuko. Goodnight.”
And with that he left, clicking the doors shut behind him. Toph felt the footsteps of him and his guards retreat back towards the reception, and she was alone again on the balcony.
She stood above the city, and the wind flew over her skin, and the sounds of the ocean echoed distantly, and she thought about Sokka.
And finally, then, she let herself cry.