Chapter Text
The first night home goes smoothly – or about as smoothly as it can possibly get with a newborn. There is a constant stream of visitors in and out of their apartment and for much of it, Jia is asleep, tucked safely in someone’s arms. Zuko is teased about being the second person in their social circle to become a father, much to everyone’s surprise, and Sokka extends an invitation to him to join his support group for stay-at-home dads in the community. Food is devoured, gifts are exchanged (seriously, how much stuff did a baby really need? Their first on his side of the family, Ursa, Iroh, and Azula went a little overboard), laughs are shared, occasionally interrupted by a crying baby to which everyone coos and jumps at the opportunity to calm her, and eventually, Gran-Gran herds everyone to their respective homes and hotel rooms (she and Hakoda were staying with Sokka and Suki), to give the new family some space, only exaggerated by the fact that Katara was struggling to keep her eyes open with a baby on her boob.
Zuko closes the door as the last of their guests leave and sets the security alarm. He sighs heavily, rubbing his temples. “What a day.” He mumbles under his breath. Surveying the area, he can already see the effects of parenting on their usually tidy apartment. It always looked like it was lived in with the plethora of personal touches Katara added, but now one could tell there was a baby in the mix. A soiled burp rag here, a forgotten, leftover plate there, a kicked-off sock – it was impressive how mixy and strong a newborn really was, this was no longer just his place that Katara was simply living in, but a home.
He walks over to where she's laying across the recliner and kneels to gently shake her awake. She blinks, groaning. “Did I fall asleep?” She asks, blearily.
Zuko gives her a soft smile. “Yes, you did. While Jia was eating.”
Katara looks down at the baby attached to her breast and sees that her eyes are closed, and her breathing is even. She chuckles, shaking her head. “So did she, apparently.”
He reaches down to pick her up and she gurgles, a bubble of spit forming on her mouth. “That just means she’s full.” He pulls away to look at her, one hand rubbing her back. “That’s right, huh, girl? You’re full, aren’t you?” Then, he extends his hand to Katara to help her up. She was pretty good at masking her pain, but he knew it was hard for her to move around with the achy muscles and postpartum contractions as her uterus shrinks back to normal.
She sighs, taking it and letting him pull her forward. “Thank you.” Then, she nods in their daughter’s direction. She fit perfectly in Zuko’s arms, even if it did look like they were swallowing her sometimes. It’d only been five days, but fatherhood looked good on him. “You know, you’re pretty good at this dad thing.”
He snorts. “Thanks, but it’s only been a week, I still have time to mess up.”
Katara places a hand on his scarred cheek, pressing her forehead to his. “You won’t.” She gives him a chaste kiss. “Trust me.”
Zuko would like to say that he does, but there is a part of him that’s still terrified of this whole ordeal, so he refocuses on something else instead. “Come on, let’s get you two to bed.” He pauses. “She’s sleeping in the room with us, right?”
She rolls her eyes. “Like you’d let her out of your sight. Of course, she is.”
He ushers her down the hall to their room, letting her lean on him for support, and then, Katara readies herself for bed, not even bothering to put on pajamas. She is out instantaneously, snuggled up under the covers, snoring lightly, and it gives him a chance to bond with his daughter solo, without any interruptions or her supervision.
But it is also the first time he’s up with her at night outside of the hospital and somehow, it’s more nerve-wracking now than it was then.
She’s sound asleep in the bassinet, her initials carved underneath Katara, Sokka, and Kallik's and all he can think about is how joyful, yet painful this experience has been.
As far as he can tell, his own father never did this with him. He wasn’t even there when his mother was in labor, away on a business trip. He found out Zuko was born through his personal assistant and then tried to masquerade to the press as if he were by her side the entire time.
It’s painful because his love and care for his daughter already existed before she was born, and merely increased tenfold when she emerged into his waiting arms. He decided then that’d he always be there to catch her when she falls, no matter what.
As a boy, he convinced himself that it was something he did that made his father treat him that way. Perhaps, he could justify that. After all, children nor their parents are perfect. Maybe he’d understand when he has his own and they do something he disagrees with, or they mess up.
But when he held Jia for the first time, her name echoing in the back of his head ever since he heard the heartbeat, ready and willing to wage war for her if need be, to stop any hurt and take her pain away, kiss the scraped knees, and make sure not a single second goes by in her life where she feels like she can’t come to him for anything because daddy will always be there no matter what, it occurred to him that Ozai truly never really loved him.
And that stings.
It’s a suffocating feeling that constricts his chest and churns his stomach, making it hard to breathe, because he’s only been a father for five days, two hours, and three minutes, but he cannot fathom not loving the tiny baby that’s right across from him or the woman tucked into his side.
Realistically, you get better after the first baby. You learn from your mistakes, recognize your faults, and right your wrongs so as he watched Azula age, he hoped the favoritism he showed her meant she’d have a better experience than he did.
He could stomach being the accident, the mistake that should’ve never happened, and Ozai’s guinea pig in his little parenting experiment if it meant his sister would have a decent childhood.
But his father didn’t do any better, nor did he try to.
And two fucked up children in his wake made his blood boil and bile rise in his throat.
Zuko couldn’t imagine favoring one child over the other and he certainly couldn’t imagine pitting his children against each other like pawns in a game of chess.
He can't wrap his head around inflicting pain and harm intentionally and on purpose either.
Zuko has contemplated his father’s death multiple times. He's not the angry tween anymore that had thoughts of hurting him (or worse) whenever he heard the insults hurled at his mother, followed by some crash, too young to really do something about it, but he does think of the day when Agni decides he's ready for him to answer for his sins.
He knows that much of the media will prop him up on a pedestal and all the messy details of his personal life with either be forgotten or ignored.
And of course, people will cry. Regardless of everything, there are some that are quite fond of Ozai and they'll mourn too.
He'll cry too, but his tears won’t be for his father. They'll be for himself. It’ll be the tears of a boy who lost his childhood to a tyrant, tears for his mother, sister, and even his Uncle, who deserved better, and the tears of a man who's healing his own broken heart because he misses what he knew never.
It seems selfish, but whenever it’s his time, he wants his daughter to miss him when he’s gone.