Archive of Our Own

When he was told, Sokka’s legs had given out underneath him and he collapsed onto the floor, mouth agape, too overcome to even cry.

No, he thought. It cannot be. How could he? After I came to him the morning of his wedding, offered him a way out, an escape, and he refused? How could he turn down my offer to run away, and then take his own life? How could he choose death over me?

“Sokka...” Katara said softly, and Sokka howled a demented howl of grief and threw himself onto the floor, covering his face in his arms.

At first Sokka had, not believed it, but assumed, distantly, that it must be true, Zuko must have thrown himself from the cliff on the edge of his new husband’s estate into the sea, and died. And if Sokka could not quite bring himself to believe it, really, in his heart, then soon his body would wash ashore, and Sokka would attend his funeral, and see his body, and really believe it, and start to mourn, to process, to heal. The elders all said that dead bodies always wash ashore. Always.

But Zuko’s body did not wash ashore. It took Sokka three days to travel across the Earth Kingdom to the Fire Nation and arrive (uninvited) at Zuko’s husband – widower’s – house, and by that time there was still no body. A memorial service was planned for the following day, in the absence of a body to bury, and Sokka, despite his contentious relationship with the deceased’s family, his questionably close relationship with the deceased, and the political tensions between Water Tribe and Fire Nation, was too high ranking in the Water Tribe to be shut out. So Sokka finds himself sitting in a Fire Nation Grand Hall, listening to a series of Alphas eulogise an Omega he  cannot recognise. They speak of his softness, his gentleness, his modesty and beauty, and Sokka wonders if they ever even met the man they eulogise. Of his scholarship, his pioneering work with his uncle in the field of plasma bending, his prodigious magical and martial ability, there is not a mention.     

“I am sorry for your loss.” Sokka says to Iroh, who bows deeply and straightens, eyes glistening.

“And I, for yours.” he replies, and Sokka buckles, barely restrains himself from a thousand questions – did he speak to you about me, what did he tell you? Did he love me? Did he tell you about the morning before his wedding, when I climbed in at his window and offered him freedom and he refused? Did he tell you why?

Sokka only nods silently and turns away to attempt to compose himself.

It is a beautiful day – late spring edging into summer, the sunlight bright and golden, the sky cloudless, and the weather – to Sokka’s southern sensibilities – almost uncomfortably hot. He leaves the house and wanders mindlessly in the direction of the cliff edge, and is hailed by a young, female voice.

Blinking, coming back to himself, he sees a young woman in servant’s garb, looking terrified.

“Please sir, please don’t.”

“Don’t what?” Sokka is genuinely puzzled.

“Just – just step back. Please.”

Obediently, Sokka takes a step back, and she cries out in alarm. Looking behind him, Sokka sees nothing but the empty cliff edge several feet back, and behind that the glittering turquoise sea fading into the endless blue sky. Looking back at the girl in confusion, he comes to an awful conclusion and steps smartly away from the edge.

“It’s allright girl, I only came to admire the view, I had no plans to” tears glitter in her eyes, and Sokka automatically steps forward and reaches out to her. “Hey”

She looks up at him, and leans just perceptibly forward, and he closes the distance between them to put a hand on her arm in comfort.

“It’s allright.” he repeats, and she collapses forward onto him, forcing him to grab her and hold her up in an embrace. He briefly considers worrying that someone will see him embracing a servant girl in the grounds of his dead friend’s house, and rapidly decides he doesn’t give a shit.

He strokes her hair as she weeps into his shirt.

“There there” he says, wondering why the fuck that’s something people say.

At length she quiets, and begins to sniff, and straighten up.

“I’m sorry.” Sokka says. “I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

“No, no” she shakes her head and draws back, the momentary intimacy they had shared in his grief and her fear evaporating. “I am sorry, I should never have disturbed”

“You were concerned for my safety, you were right to disturb” Sokka stops short, and studies her. She flushes under his gaze, and starts to pull away, but he stops her with a hand on her wrist.

“You.” he says. “They said a girl saw him – a servant girl was passing when he – it was you! You saw it!”

Her eyes fill with tears again

“Please sir, don’t make me”

“Please” Sokka returns, simply. “He was my friend.”

She looks down, her eyes filling with tears again. Sokka studies her, knowing she will not speak unless asked a direct question, and not knowing what to ask

“Were you close?”

She looks up in confusion, and Sokka fumbles

“I don’t mean – were you close by the cliff edge, when he – when it happened? How far away were you?”

“I was...” she trails off, blinking tears from her eyes as she looks around. “I was over there.” she points at a spot some twenty feet from the cliff edge.

“What were you doing out here? It was late at night, wasn’t it?

“Not that late, sir. After dinner. I was carrying some apples from the shed down there” she pointed “back to the house” She pointed back to the house. “The cook wanted to stew them overnight for – for breakfast the next day.” She swallows, her gaze somewhere over Sokka’s shoulder. “I dropped them.”

“When you saw him?”

“No, when” she looks down, and her eyes fill with tears again. Sokka feels around his pockets for a handkerchief, and finally finds one to offer her. She hesitates before taking it.

“So when you first saw him...” Sokka asks, unsure why he is asking. Does he just want to know what his friend’s last moments were like?

“He was just standing there.” she says. “I thought he was waiting for someone.”

“Who?”

“I don’t know! Someone!”

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why did you think he was waiting for someone?”

“I...” she trails off. “I don’t know. He just... looked like he was waiting.”

Sokka frowned.

“Then what.”

“Then... well, he looked up and saw me”

“He saw you!”

“Yes, I...” she trails off, looking over Sokka’s shoulder again. “I’m nearly sure. I mean... it was dark, but I swear he looked right at me...” she turned to look at the cliff edge, and Sokka frowns.

“So he was at the edge of the cliff, standing still, he turned and looked at you... then what?”

“Well then he turned around again and...” she makes an abortive upward motion with her arms, and Sokka takes half a step back in surprise.

“He dove!”

“I...” she looks like she’s thinking.

“I mean, he didn’t step, or, jump” Sokka pantomimes both, as if she won’t know what they are. “He put his hands above his head and dove headfirst?”

“I...” she blinks. “Yes.” Then, more confidently. “Yes.”

It’s Sokka’s turn to blink. He hasn’t known that many suicides, had the misfortune to witness one, but... he’s nearly sure the accepted wisdom is that they don’t dive headfirst, with purpose. They step over the edge, or jump if they’re worried about losing their nerve. Nothing so purposeful as a dive – even for the most strong willed person, the will to live will stop you.

Sokka turns and strides towards the cliff edge again, and the girl cries out in alarm, but he shushes her.

“I’m only going to look.” he says, but to pacify her he kneels a little way back from the edge and leans forward. He hears a frightened gasp behind him, but ignores it.

The drop is high – twenty feet at least, and there are rocks visible at the bottom. But the rocks are close to the base of the cliff, and the water beyond them looks deep and clear. There are cliffs nearly as high in the Earth Kingdom where people dive off them for fun, taking advantage of the height to push themselves further out from the edge and avoid the rocks usually found at the bottom. He turns back to the servant girl.

“How deep is it?”

“Sir?”

“The water at the bottom, how deep is it?”

“I... I really don’t know sir.”         

Sokka looks around, scouring along the cliff edge.

“Is there a way down?”

“Down where, sir?”

“Down to the bottom of the cliff-“ he breaks off as he stands up and sees something. A path, well, more like a trail, zigzagging down the cliff.

“Have you ever used this?” he asks

“Used what?”

“This trail, down to the shore.”

“Oh, certainly not, sir, it’s far too dangerous!”

Sokka has climbed the highest mountain in the fire nation, and some of the highest in the Earth kingdom, and even ventured to some of the Air Nomad temples that are meant to be inaccessible by ground. The trail looks safe enough to him, but he appreciates it might not look so to a servant girl in delicate slippers.

“Has anyone else used it, do you know?”

No one will admit to using it themselves, but a couple of people recall seeing a mysterious figure in servants’ garb making his way down the trail. As he asks around about the trail, Sokka asks other servants about what they know of Zuko, and what he hears displeases him. Sokka’s Water Tribe informality has always disarmed servants in the more hierarchical kingdoms of fire and earth, and he believes they are being candid with him. One maid recalls the sound of Zuko weeping bitterly after his husband left him on their wedding night. Another recalls that he seemed to eat less and less after his husband returned from his trip, and that she was worried he was growing too thin and might not be able to conceive, which would displease his husband. Another recalls blazing rows and Zuko being confined to his room by his husband, and the sound of Zuko beating on the door and screaming to be released.

“Why did you not release him!” Sokka demands, and the girl seems to shrink.

“I could not disobey my master,” she squeaks

“Was Zuko not your master?”

“No, sir.” She seems to realise what she has said, and tries to correct herself, but Sokka shushes her, grudgingly admiring her honesty.

A gardener tells Sokka that he would see Zuko wandering the grounds, and once caught him climbing out of his bedroom window when the household staff were all of a twitter as he had just been locked in his bedroom by his husband. Interestingly, he says that Zuko could sometimes be seen wearing a set of worn homespun, like a servant, and Sokka wonders.

More disturbingly, several of the servants report that Zuko appeared to be unravelling in the weeks leading up to his flight from the cliff. He had apparently fought with his husband multiple times – when Sokka asks if they came to blows, the servants grow tellingly silent, and Sokka wonders what manner of Alpha would raise his hand against an Omega in anger. More than one servant recalls Zuko pacing up and down either in his room or out in the grounds, muttering to himself and appearing distracted. And in the last few weeks his appetite and grooming had both suffered and he appeared brooding and melancholy. Sokka wonders if there was any chance he could have been with child and dismisses the notion. Zuko wouldn’t take his own life if there was another, innocent life which would be taken with it. Right?

It is apparent to Sokka that the General wishes him gone, but he keeps returning to the cliffside. At length he can contain his curiosity no longer and picks up a handy stick just right as a staff, and makes his careful way down the zigzagging path. It is precarious, and he is grateful both for the staff and for his well-made boots, but it is passable.

As he grows closer to the cove the near-absurd beauty of this part of the world becomes more apparent- the sweeping lines of the cliffs, the glittering turquoise of the sea. There isn’t much beach to speak of when Sokka arrives, but he finds a rock to stand on and nearly gapes at how clear the water is – he can see schools of fish in the water yards away. This place is so beautiful it robs Sokka of speech and breath, and tears spring unbidden to his eyes.

Is it this beautiful in the evening? he wonders. Was this a beautiful place to die?

He turns to look at the rocks at the bottom of the cliff, a ragged sob catching in his throat at the mere thought, and is reminded sharply of the Earth Kingdom cliffs he and Zuko dived off of in perfect safety. He forces himself not to think of that, to think of Zuko hitting the rocks, his blood and brains leaking into the water – but then where is his body, damn it! The waters around this piece of coastline are not known for sharks, and even where sharks can be found they rarely come so close in to the coast, having grown wary of boats and fishermen. It is uncomfortably clear to Sokka that, were the water deep enough, Zuko could relatively easily dive from the cliff into the water and swim away unharmed.

Swim where, though? Sokka had toured the coast, asking in every fishing village if they had missed a boat or done business with a young, slim, dark haired omega or beta, or seen a man matching such a description come ashore. No one had seen him. And in the evening time, when Zuko jumped, fisherfolk were to be found outside their houses, eating and socialising with their families. There can’t be many places along the coast he could have come ashore and not been seen.

How deep is the water anyway? Sokka hastily removes his boots and shirt, and slips into the cool water. It’s near-divine after his long trek down the cliff in the hot sun, and he takes a moment to roll in the water and enjoy it before finding his purpose.

The water is fairly deep, but probably not deep enough for a dive from so high. Though Sokka thinks the tide isn’t in yet – he’ll have to check with the fisherman he was speaking to before. While underwater he sees something, which he is then able to make out above the surface. A cave, the entrance mostly submerged. At high tide, Sokka supposes, it would be entirely submerged.

He makes a limp attempt not to explore the cave, trying to convince hiself it could be the home of some terrible sea monster – or worse, eels – before letting his curiosity get the better of him. Taking a couple of deep breaths, he dives below the surface and swims into the cave. He finds that it opens out after a few metres, and he is able to lift his head above the water. Blinking water from his eyes, he adjusts to the dim light and sees the dome of the cave rising far above him and sunlight filtering in through gaps in the rock. More interestingly, a shelf of rock big enough to lie on. It’s a little high up, but he manages to scramble up onto it, scraping his forearms and knees as he does so, thinking to himself that if the tide was high it would be easier, but the shelf of rock would still be above the level of the water’s surface.

Lying on his back, panting and feeling the tingle of his scraped skin, Sokka wonders. If he had dove safely from the cliff, if the tide had been high, if he had hidden here until the search was called off, if he had hidden food and a change of clothes here first, if he had escaped under cover of night, swum down the coast and crept onto the shore and then struck out for the city, he could have he could have he could have...

“Sokka...” Katara will say, weeks from now, as Sokka paces up and down in her and Aang’s sitting room in the Northern Air Temple “Sokka, even if he could have – and I’m not saying he could – you don’t have any evidence that he did, that he was ever there.”

And then Sokka will pull out his trump card, the closest thing he has to evidence, the scrap of green he sees out of the corner of his eye. Scrambling on to his hands and knees, he reaches out with a trembling hand and carefully picks up the tiny scrap of green silk caught on a protruding rock, as if it was torn off an item of clothing worn by someone climbing onto the shelf, a scrap he swears he recognises from a robe of Zuko’s.

It isn’t as if Sokka exactly has a welcome to wear out, but over the next few days he feels Zuko’s husband (widower?) growing more and more hostile to his presence, to his questioning of household staff and villagers and fishermen from the surrounding areas, until he is finally summoned to an audience with the General.

Unsure if the General has the authority to summon him anywhere, Sokka attends nonetheless, unarmed since to bring a weapon into a Fire Nation General’s house would undoubtedly cause an international incident, but aware in the back of his mind that if he does find it necessary to kill the General he could easily do it with his bare hands.

The General sits opposite Sokka and stares at him with the air of one used to people being intimidated by him. Sokka stares back at him, unmoved.

“Your presence here is beginning to be the subject of talk.” the General says.

“My presence anywhere becomes the subject of talk” Sokka retorts. “I fascinate people.”

“In the Fire Nation?”

“Everywhere.”

The General stares at Sokka a little longer.

“I know that you and my husband were close in your youth.”

“We didn’t fuck, if that’s what you’re wondering.”

Shen looks as if he’s trying not to be sick. Sokka considers telling him that he tried, or rather that Zuko tried, and Sokka ruined it by trying to persuade Zuko to run away with him. Would he have agreed if Sokka had waited until after they’d fucked to bring up the subject of running away?

There is a period of silence, in which Sokka stares stonily at the General, and is rewarded by seeing his calm facade crack, just a little.

“I am told you have been looking into the circumstances surrounding my husband’s death.”

Sokka makes no reply but simply raises an eyebrow.

“What have you found?”

Sokka shrugs, and the General leaps to his feet, his face a mask of rage. Sokka simply eyes him from a seated position, thrilled but carefully keeping his face a mask of boredom.

“I demand you tell me what you have discovered!”

“Nothing!” Sokka exclaims, finally annoyed. The General raises an eyebrow.      

“I see.” he says, as if saying something of great meaning and import. Sokka narrows his eyes in irritation.

“So you have uncovered nothing to support the theory that I had something to do with my husband’s death?”

Sokka tries to keep the surprise off his face, even as it occurs to him that it might be advantageous for the Fire Nation to get entirely the wrong end of the stick about what he is investigating and what he suspects.

“No” he agrees mulishly

“Very well.” the General sits down heavily. “After spending so much time investigating, questioning everyone in the area, and turning up nothing, surely you must have satisfied yourself that it happened as I said it did – that my husband, in a fit of melancholy madness, threw himself from the cliff to his death.”

“Zuko was never given to melancholy when I knew him.” Sokka says, and stands. “Even if you didn’t push him, it doesn’t mean you were blameless.” He turns and stalks out of the room, leaving the General sputtering in his wake.

But that wasn’t necessarily true, was it? Sokka had known people who suffered from what the Water Tribe called Sad-Sickness, who withdrew into themselves, numb to all feeling but despair, and sometimes would walk out onto the ice and slip into a fishing hole, knowing that once you’re under the ice it’s near-impossible to get out, and Zuko had never reminded him of them. But many people had described him as melancholy, and no one had ever, Sokka was sure, called him cheerful. Certainly, he had smiled and laughed at times, but had there not also been days when he would retreat into a quiet corner with his book and never turn the page? And when he disappeared for hours and Sokka finally found him sitting on his own somewhere, and felt the need to feign cheerful casualness as he asked what he was thinking about, Zuko would always shake his head and decline to tell him. It had been years ago, but Sokka still remembers how his stomach would contract with concern whenever Zuko got that faraway look in his eye. Still waters run deep, they said, and Sokka had always had the feeling he had no clue what monsters roiled beneath the still water of Zuko’s calm expression.

And no one had seen him come ashore, even in this relatively populous area.

And Sokka really has nothing to go on other than this tiny scrap of silk, and the fact that it just doesn’t seem right dammit, from what he knew of Zuko.

“But Sokka,” Katara says, gently, pleadingly, weeks later when he’s standing in front of her and Aang, gesticulating wildly and dimly aware that he hasn’t slept in days. “Perhaps... perhaps it seems wrong because you want it to be wrong. Because you don’t want Zuko to be – to be dead.” She swallows, tears gathering in her eyes, and Sokka feels awful, that his sister should be grieving Zuko too, but can’t because Sokka’s grief is so unmanageable it’s becoming everyone’s problem, not just his.

“They say the most likely explanation is the one that requires the fewest assumptions to be made.” Aang says carefully. “And... it seems you need to make a lot of assumptions for this... for Zuko to be out there.”

“But where is he?!?!” Sokka exclaims “The Ocean always gives up her dead, always. Didn’t the elders always say that Katara? If he died, where is his body!”

Aang and Katara look at Sokka sadly, and he angrily stuffs the scrap of silk into his pocket and retreats.

If one must make assumptions to explain why Zuko is alive, or why he is dead, then it seems he must be neither alive nor dead.

“Where are you, Zuko?” Sokka whispers to himself in the dead of night, into his fist, to the scrap of silk he grasps, white-knuckled.

It ought not to raise eyebrows that Sokka spends the next few months travelling around the Earth Kingdom and the Fire Nation. Why would it? Did he not spend the last few years since leaving university travelling from place to place, exploring, seeking adventure. That is surely what people assume – that he has resumed his carefree adventurer lifestyle. Who would assume that he is, in fact, seeking desperately for a man who appears to be neither dead nor alive?

To be sure, he keeps asking in every town he enters if anyone has seen a male, Fire Nation Omega or Beta, about so high, in early twenties, and you would think that would rouse suspicion. But it gets back to him that the rumour is that in his grief he seeks out men who resemble his ex lover, driven to suicide by the arranged marriage that tore them apart. He can at least be glad that word of his investigation into Zuko’s disappearance has turned public opinion on the Fire Lord and the General sour, and no doubt made life more difficult for both of them politically. And, though none of the young men he has been pointed to in his search have actually been Zuko, sometimes he sees one of them across a crowded tavern and, just for a moment, his stomach swoops and he hopes...

So it doesn’t surprise him too much when, after getting set upon by a gang of ruffians outside a tavern and a young, slim, dark haired man coming to his rescue, as the world fades to black and his rescuer kneels over him, brow furrowed in concern, just for a moment before he loses consciousness, Sokka swears that the face looking down at him is Zuko’s.

Usually Sokka’s hangover’s last a morning, or a day at most, but months of constant travelling, barely sleeping and consuming more mead than food seem to have caught up with him, and when he eventually wakes it is in a state of feverish near-delirium. Fortunately his Zuko-faced rescuer seems to have taken pity on him, for when Sokka wakes it is in a soft bed with Zuko’s face bent over him once more. And although he has really very little idea whether the man pressing cold compresses to his forehead and back, and whispering soothingly to him, and spooning cold water and thin broth into his mouth, is really Zuko or a man bearing a passing resemblance to him, Sokka addresses him as Zuko and babbles incessantly about how he knew he must still be alive, how clever and wonderful he is, how he, Sokka, will never leave him, Zuko, again, how they’re safe now. And possibly-Zuko smooths Sokka’s hair from his face and murmurs something, and Sokka drifts off again.

Sokka isn’t sure how much time has passed in feverish dreams before he wakes up with a splitting headache and a dry mouth and no further fever. Blinking the room into focus, Sokka sees a slim, dark-haired man standing at the window. Hearing Sokka move, the man turns back and Sokka sees, with a thrill, Zuko’s face framed by sunlight.

“It is you!” he exclaims, sitting up, and Zuko gives a cry of alarm and hurries across the room to urge Sokka to lie down again. Even in his weakened state, Sokka manages to use his alpha strength to effortlessly roll Zuko onto the bed with him and roll on top of him, clasping Zuko close and kissing every part of him he can reach. Zuko initially tries to resist, to protest, but momentarily sighs in pleasure and extends his neck for Sokka to bury his face in. Emboldened, Sokka runs his hands down Zuko’s back, his arms, over his stomach, remembering him and committing him to memory at the same time. The flatness of Zuko’s stomach offends him, it should be filled out and rounded with Sokka’s child, and with a growl he pulls on Zuko’s robes, intending to rectify the situation. Apparently this is enough to bring Zuko back to his senses, and he protests weakly, wriggling as if half-heartedly trying to get away. Sokka, who will later tell himself he is driven mad by pheromones and Zuko’s reappearance, growls and rubs his face more insistently against Zuko’s scent gland, redoubling his efforts to undress him, convinced it is only hesitance, only foolish modesty or concern for Sokka that leads Zuko to put up token resistance.

“Sokka, please!” Zuko cries out, as if in pain, and the agony in his voice is enough to cut through Sokka’s pheromone-induced haze and strike icy fear into his heart. Horrified, he pulls back and looks at Zuko properly, lying sprawled on the bed where Sokka just had him pinned, his hair and clothes disarranged and eyes damp.

“Zuko,” Sokka’s voice cracks in shame “Zuko, I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have”

“No, no-“ Zuko pulls himself up into a sitting position and scrubs at his eyes with his sleeve “I understand – God, how often have I fantasised – but Sokka, we have to talk.”

“About what?” Sokka asks innocently, and Zuko looks at him with that familiar look, as if what Sokka has just said is so extraordinary that he has no idea how to respond. Fortunately Sokka’s apparently extraordinary question has the side effect of drying Zuko’s eyes completely.

“About... Sokka, I feigned my death, I let you believe I was dead for months, how could...” his eyes fill with tears again “How could you ever forgive me?”

The despair in his voice and scent makes Sokka’s heart ache, and though he has been trying to keep himself distant from Zuko, to give him space, Sokka opens his arms for him. and with a trembling whine, Zuko crawls up to him and folds himself into Sokka’s arms. Sokka closes his arms around him and pulls him close, trying to release soothing pheromones. As his nostrils fill once again with Zuko’s scent, he feels himself sigh with relief.

“I can’t believe you’re back.” Sokka thinks to himself, and also says out loud. Zuko laughs wetly, his hand curling in Sokka’s shirt, and Sokka feels warmth in his stomach.

Mine, he thinks to himself No one will take you from me again.

Zuko uncurls himself, wipes his eyes.

“How are you the one comforting me?” he asks. “You’re sick, you’ve been abed three days – here, lie down.” Zuko crawls back from Sokka’s lap and tries again to persuade him to lie down.

“I think you’ll find I’m fit as a fiddle.” Sokka says, with an eye roll, and springs to his feet only to sit down again heavily when the world turns dark as soon as he stands. Zuko raises an eyebrow at him, and Sokka allows himself to be tucked back into the bed. Zuko pushes Sokka’s hair out of his face, cupping his jaw in one hand, and Sokka nearly croons, nuzzling into Zuko’s hand.

“You need food.” Zuko declares, and begins to stand, to leave, and Sokka lets out a wounded noise and grabs for Zuko’s wrist.

“Sokka,” Zuko turns back, smiling, and runs the back of his fingers over Sokka’s face, presumably because he correctly assumes this will weaken both Sokka’s will and his grip. “You have to trust me. I won’t be long, I’ll come back with food, and then we will talk.”

“All right” Sokka hears himself say, as if hearing someone else, and Zuko crosses to the door and goes out, and Sokka stares at the door, barely blinking, until Zuko returns bearing dumpling soup and ale.

He sits again.

“Come here” he commands, holding his arms open, and Zuko sets the food and drink on the table and obeys, climbing back into Sokka’s lap and curling into his chest, and as Sokka leans back and feels Zuko exhale, as if in relief, at the feeling of Sokka’s arms around him, he feels a growl grow in his chest. Zuko makes an abortive noise in response that Sokka is convinced is a purr, and he strokes Zuko’s hair, feeling pleased with himself.

“I’m so glad you’re... all right.” he says.

Zuko hums, and nuzzles his face into Sokka’s neck for a moment before replying.

“Food first, then we’ll talk” he says.

The soup is still good, even a little cold, and Sokka drains most of the jug of ale, not having realised how thirsty he was.

Zuko takes the bowls and puts them back on the table to put away later, and returns to the bed, to sit at the foot of the bed while Sokka sits at the head. Zuko plays with a loose thread in the covers as Sokka watches him.

“You wanted to talk” Sokka says

“I did” Zuko replies

“Do you still?” Sokka asks, half-hoping Zuko will say no and jump on him. Instead Zuko sighs heavily and turns his attention from the coverlet to his hands.

“I imagine you have questions – I would, if our positions were reversed.”

Sokka thinks to himself.

“How long after your marriage did you find the cave?”

Zuko stares at him.

“The what?”

“The cave, hidden by high tide, near where you jumped. I assume you swam in there and hid until the search was called off?”

Zuko gapes at him.

“How were you sure no one else knew about it? It wasn’t very visible, but if I had been looking for you at low tide I would have seen it and looked in there. And how did you find it in the first place? Did you walk down the path yourself? And how did you sneak ashore without being seen? And where have you been since?”

Zuko continues staring at him

“I suppose I did have a lot of questions” Sokka admits. He notes Zuko’s incredulous expression. “You don’t have to answer all of them, I’m just happy you’re alive!”

Zuko pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs. Sokka’s heart sinks.

“You... you found the cave?”

“The cave, and... this!” Sokka reaches into his pocket and finds the scrap of green silk, and waves it triumphantly. Zuko frowns at it, and Sokka hands it over for inspection. Zuko blinks at it and runs his thumb over it, turning it this way and that so it catches the light.

“I didn’t see it had ripped. I took it ashore and burned it as soon as I could, I couldn’t have any connection to my old life, I...” he trailed off.

“Does anyone else suspect?”

“No! God, no – I showed that to Aang and Katara, told them I thought you had escaped, and they didn’t believe me, thought I was just blindly hoping because I “ He breaks off, but rallies “They’re going to be so pleased you’re all right!”

“No!” Zuko stands unexpectedly. “Sokka, no one can know I’m alive!”

This, rather than Zuko being alive after all this time, is what brings Sokka up short.

“Zuko, what are you talking about – isn’t that the point?”       

“No, Sokka” Zuko rubs his eyes with the heels of his hands in apparent frustration. “I was meant to disappear, I” he breaks off, freezes, and his hands slide down off his face as he looks over at Sokka

“You weren’t going to come and find me” Sokka says as he realises. “You were going to walk into the sunset and never come back” As the realisation first strikes him his initial reaction is hurt, but as he comes to the end of the sentence his emotion changes to abject pity. “God, you were going to never speak to any of the people you knew ever again, you meant to strike out all on your own. God, you must have been so frightened.”

“Because I’m an omega?” Zuko asks, with a sniff

“Because I would have been frightened.”         

Zuko studies him.

“You aren’t angry?”

“Angry? Certainly” Sokka says “With your husband, your father and sister, myself, every goddamn circumstance that led to you having to take a header off a cliff to gain your freedom.”

Zuko regards him apprehensively, and Sokka stands and goes to him, and strokes his face with the back of his fingers, mirroring how Zuko had comforted him

“But I have searched my feelings and I can find no anger for you.”

Zuko throws his arms around Sokka, and Sokka struggles to untrap his arms so he can reciprocate, leaning in to Zuko and breathing in his scent.        Zuko draws back slightly and they look into each other’s eyes for a long moment before leaning in so that their lips meet.

So this is it, Sokka thinks. This is home.

It should have occurred to Sokka that, if he had suspicions, others would too. If he could stumble across Zuko almost by accident, someone else could find him on purpose.

It still takes him by surprise when Zuko stops dead in the doorway, causing Sokka to walk straight into his back.

“Azula” Zuko breathes, and Sokka’s head snaps up, seeing Zuko’s alpha sister leaning casually against the table, tossing a knife in her hand, her expression inscrutable

With a growl, Sokka makes as if to push Zuko behind him and make for Azula, but Zuko puts out a placating hand and Sokka finds himself near-paralyzed by the force of the soothing pheromones Zuko is releasing. His alpha instincts – Protect! Fight! – feel as if they’re trying to rise up in him, to take control, and hitting a wall. A wall put there by Zuko as he starts to cross the room towards his sister.

“Azula” Zuko says again, and Sokka sees her face twitch, she fumbles the knife and grasps it, no longer tossing it, staring at Zuko. Sokka realises, with a greater degree of astonishment than he’s ever felt in his life, that her lower lip is trembling.

Zuko finally reaches Azula, and reaches out as if to put a hand on her shoulder, but hesitates.

            “Azula” he says a third time, and the knife clatters to the floor as Azula collapses sobbing on his neck. Sokka stumbles a little as Zuko’s hold over him abruptly disappears, and he watches in astonishment as Zuko holds Azula close and makes soothing noises.

“They all think you’re dead.” Azula confirms later, over tea. “Father would far rather dismiss all rumours that Lord Sokka has been seen with an omega who bears a striking resemblance to Prince Zuko as Sokka taking up with a lookalike.          

“A lookalike with the same scar?” Zuko says sceptically, and for the first time Sokka thinks he realises how stupid he was to think they had any hope of remaining undetected.

“Besides, you were legally declared dead after a year, so that your husband could remarry. It would cause all kinds of problems if you turned up alive.”

“So he’s prepared to ignore me?” Zuko asks “An open secret?”

“I think if you don’t start being more discreet he’ll send someone to kill you.” Azula replies

Sokka makes an indignant noise and gestures to the mountain range out the window, the howling wind and rain, as if you could see that there aren’t any people for miles.

“How much more discreet can you get?” he demands

Azula fixes him with the same golden glare as Zuko.

“Go South.” she says. “Hide among your own people, he can’t touch you there.”

“No.” Sokka sits back in his chair. “That’s where all the people wanting to marry me off are. It’s a non starter.”

Azula looks down at Zuko’s midsection, then up at Zuko’s face, and raises her eyebrows. Zuko flushes and looks down, and Sokka shifts uncomfortably in his chair. They haven’t even really spoken about it yet, even though they can both vaguely sense it.

“I don’t know” Zuko’s hand goes protectively to his lower abdomen, as if speaking it aloud will make it go away. “It... it doesn’t feel... secure, yet.”

Azula studies him.

“Usually you can’t sense them until they’ve decided to hang on.”

“Decided maybe, but... maybe they don’t get to...” Zuko trails off. Sokka moves his chair so he can put one arm around Zuko, lay his other hand over Zuko’s on his lower belly. Zuko leans into his touch, and Azula leans back in her chair.

“Maybe decide isn’t the right word" she says. “But if I can tell...” she trails off, and Sokka allows a glimmer of hope to flare in his chest. He looks at Zuko, and thinks he sees something similar in his eyes.

Azula stands.

“No one will be surprised if you arrive home with an omega bride, having got them in trouble and then decided to do the honourable thing.” She snorts. “Not about the trouble, or about the honourable thing.”

Sokka scowls at her, aware of Zuko stifling a laugh next to him.

What could Sokka say? Time had got away from him.

Despite Azula’s assurances that the pregnancy was sure to hold, Sokka and Zuko had both wanted to wait a bit longer before making any plans predicated on it continuing. Then they had to get Zuko some false papers, find a priest willing to marry them discreetly without alerting the local nobility (that had resulted in a few false starts and one middle-of-the night flight). And then they had been held up by storms at every conceivable time, and it had all ended with Sokka leading Zuko, six months pregnant but looking ready to pop, through a blizzard in the South Pole, only reasonably certain they were going in the right direction and would find shelter at the end.          

“There it is!” Sokka shouted in Zuko’s ear, pointing excitedly – he could see the house only yards ahead of them. Zuko nodded into Sokka’s neck, clutching his collar for support, and Sokka tightened his arm around Zuko, pushing down his worry.

Sokka had to unwrap his arm from Zuko to open the door, and Zuko almost fell to his knees. Sokka dragged him up again and leaned him firmly against the door jamb. Zuko clutched it, white knuckled, and Sokka realised he was having to use his arms to hold himself up, as his legs were ready to give out.

Feeling sick, he managed to pull the door open and drag Zuko through the gap before the wind closed it. Zuko sank to the floor.

“Zuko! Zuko!”

“I can’t stand any more.” Zuko says, matter of factly.

Sokka kneels before him in pitch dark, feeling over his face (gaunt), down his arms (thin). Zuko huffs out breath through his nose, almost like a laugh, and Sokka clenches his hands in Zuko’s cloak in relief.

“Can you firebend?”

Sokka assumes the answer will be no, but Zuko simply gathers breath, Sokka is barely aware of a movement of Zuko’s hand, and then his cupped palm is between their faces, a flickering flame between them.

“Wait – hold that for a second!” Looking around wildly, Sokka sees the basket of firewood and stumbles over, grabbing a likely looking torch and holding it to Zuko’s flame. Once it catches, Zuko lets the flame in his hand go out and Sokka quickly builds up a fire in the grate before lighting it with care from his torch. Once the small room is partially lit by the flickering fire, he is able to get a better look around.

A small cot bed, some dried seal jerky, flints next to the basket of firewood, blankets and furs, a frame to hang up wet clothes. Zuko, kneeling and leaning against the wall by the door, eyes closed.

“Zuko!” Sokka scrambles across the floor to him, grasping his hands.

“I’m fine, Sokka” Zuko says, smiling without opening his eyes, but managing to squeeze Sokka’s hands gently.

 You aren’t fine. Sokka thinks You’re heavily pregnant, exhausted and freezing because your husband can’t get his shit together.

“Are they fine?” Sokka asks.

Zuko laughs, and brings one of Sokka’s hands to his enormous belly.

“Still kicking,” he says, opening his eyes to look up at Sokka and smile ruefully. Sokka feels a definite kick to his hand and looks up at Zuko, wide-eyed.

“They’re tough.” Zuko says.

“Must get it from you.” Sokka responds, smoothing his hands over Zuko’s stomach and realising the material covering it is soaked.

“Right, off with these wet clothes!”

“Really? Now?” Zuko looks up at Sokka with one eyebrow raised, and Sokka snorts with laughter, as if that’s going to distract Zuko from Sokka feeling his forehead for a fever.

“I’m not trying to fuck you, I’m trying to stop you catching cold! Come on!”

Sokka manages to more or less drag Zuko to his feet and then to kneel on the bearskin rug in front of the fire, where he digs some dry clothes out of their oilskin pack and pulls Zuko’s wet cloak and shirt off, hastily rubbing him down and pulling a dry shirt over his head, Zuko barely managing to lift his arms to help. Automatically, Sokka inspects the ends of Zuko’s fingers as he pulls them out of the sleeves.

“No frostbite.” he says

“Firebender” Zuko reminds him, his eyes half closed, swaying.

Sokka cradles Zuko as best he can and lays him on his side to pull off his wet trousers, before unceremoniously lifting him onto the bed and piling half a dozen furs on him.

“Sokka, are you trying to crush me!” Zuko demands, wriggling ineffectually.

“Stay still!” Sokka scolds, stripping off and hastily drying himself before agreeing to negotiate rearranging the blankets and furs arrangement.

They end up with two layers of blankets alternating with furs, tucked firmly around the two of them, with a naked Sokka curled around a half-naked Zuko.

“Share body heat. It’s the best way to keep warm.” Sokka says, shoving Zuko’s shirt up under his armpits to increase the skin on skin contact.

“Mmm.” Zuko says, holding Sokka’s hand over his heart and drifting off to sleep.

Sokka wakes some time later to winter sunlight streaming in the window and the sound of a bird hammering on the glass. He can feel the gentle expansion and collapse of Zuko’s ribcage under his upper arm, and his baby kicking him through Zuko’s belly. He takes a moment to inhale Zuko’s scent and press a kiss to his shoulder before getting up.

“All right all right, I am not answering the door naked.” Sokka grouses, pulling on trousers, shirt and parka before he opens the door and Hawky flies in.

“Hey, how’d you know we were here?” Sokka asks, as Hawky flaps over to the clothing frame where their clothes are drying and lands, spreading his wings as if to warm them before the fire

Which is still lit.

Sokka looks over at Zuko, still asleep.

“Can you firebend in your sleep? Did you wake up earlier and bend the fire lit again?”

Zuko shifts slightly in his sleep but slumbers on. Sokka looks at the chimney and it occurs to him that Katara probably saw the smoke and assumed it heralded Sokka’s arrival, but sent Hawky ahead prior to making a potentially treacherous journey herself.

“Jerky?” Sokka says to Hawky, offering the bird a stick of the same, which Hawky snatches eagerly and takes with him to the top of the bookshelf, where he holds it in one foot while gnawing on it eagerly. Sokka shakes his head and digs through the pack to find parchment and ink.

            Katara

         I have an omega with me who is heavily pregnant and in need of a healer. And probably food that isn’t seal jerky.

         Can you come?

                                                      Sokka

Sokka waves his hand over the paper to encourage the ink to dry before rolling it into a scroll and holding out his hand for Hawky to land on. Chomping down the last bit of jerky, Hawky flies over and lands on Sokka’s wrist, allowing Sokka to put the scroll in the little pouch for this purpose.

“Good bird,” Sokka praises, before opening the door and holding his wrist out for the bird to fly away.

Seeing the bird fly towards the mountains, towards his sister and family, Sokka feels a lump in his throat, followed by a near-unbearable pressure on his bladder.

When Katara arrives a few hours later dusk is beginning to gather, Zuko is awake and drinking tea and eating seal jerky. Sokka hears her pounding at the door and leaps to let her in.

“Sokka!” she exclaims, nearly falling through the door into his arms. “What were you thinking, travelling in that storm, you could have been killed! And what’s this about a pregnant”

“Hello” Zuko says, stepping forward into the half-light, half-raising a hand in shy greeting.

Katara looks as if she’s seen a ghost, which in a way she has. She stands, motionless, for a moment, before stepping forward and reaching out to Zuko, as if to check if he’s real. Her hand almost cups his face, his scar, not quite touching, as her eyes search his face for something, some trick.

“Zuko,” she breathes “Is it really you?”

“His scar’s on the other side” Zuko deadpans, and Katara grabs him by the shirt front.

“It is you!” she exclaims, and hugs him very briefly before springing back and looking down at his belly.

“Are you “ She looks between Zuko and Sokka

“Did you do this?” she demands of Sokka, while pointing accusingly at Zuko’s belly.

“Sokka raises his palms in a “Who? Me?” gesture, while Katara urges Zuko to sit and bends water out of her flask. As the water flows over Zuko’s belly, Katara’s eyes widen.

“Twins! Sokka!” she looks accusingly at Sokka, as if he did this deliberately to inconvenience her.

“How is it my fault!” Sokka demanded.

“How far along?” Katara asks Zuko, ignoring Sokka.

“Six months. Three to go.” Zuko responds resignedly. Katara stops what she’s doing, the water shimmering at the top of Zuko’s bump.

“Twins don’t go to nine months.” she says, matter of factly.

“What!” Zuko and Sokka exclaim in unison. Katara spreads her hands.

“I mean, they might! They don’t, though. Seven and a half, eight months, usually.”

“Will they be all right?” Zuko asks, his hand going to his bump, protective.

“Should be. They’ll be smaller than lone babies, and weaker, and they’ll need extra care – even more than a regular baby! But most twins do well.”

Sokka and Zuko exchange a look.

“You should come into the village. We’ll get you set up with an igloo, get you help “

“No!”

Sokka and Katara turn to look at Zuko, his gold eyes wide. Katara turns to Sokka and sighs heavily.

“This is why you don’t move to a new community in late pregnancy.”

Sokka huffs out a breath through his nose, pretending he hasn’t noticed Zuko’s increasing aversion to people who aren’t Sokka, his only pack member, his tidying and rearranging of every space they find themselves in – even a cabin on a ship. He’s nesting, getting ready for the babies. They don’t have long.

“I’ll need Gran-gran.” Katara says.

“What!” Zuko sounds heartbroken. Sokka aches.

“I haven’t delivered twins before, Gran-gran has!”

Zuko looks unhappily up at Sokka

“Does Katara smell like me?” Sokka asks

Zuko’s nostrils flare minutely.

“A bit.” he says

“Gran gran will too. She’s my family. My pack.”

Zuko sighs and looks at the floor.

“She’s an omega” Katara says, and Zuko looks up.

For the sake of efficiency, Katara gives Sokka something to put in the fireplace when Zuko labours to tell her and Gran gran to make their way to them, since Zuko will not be persuaded to move into town. Zuko has wrestled it out of Sokka’s hands multiple times, since Sokka is convinced that every ache and pain Zuko feels is the onset of labour. But, a few weeks after they arrive, Zuko calls Sokka in from outside, where Sokka is chopping wood, and Sokka finds him standing in a puddle.

“I take it you haven’t peed yourself” Sokka says warily. Zuko looks up at him wearily.

“Fine. You can call them.”

The fact that Zuko is, apparently, “a very good labourer” is cold comfort to Sokka. Zuko starts out breathing through the contractions – in through the nose, and out through the mouth – and, between contractions, lying back in his nest of pillows with a serene expression on his face. As the labour wears into its twelfth hour, Zuko starts to close his eyes between contractions, and appears to be genuinely asleep for a minute at a time before being woken by the next contraction. Katara and Kanna take it in turns to catch an hour’s rest.

Sokka feels as if his nerves are fraying. He has been sternly ordered to stop pacing as Kanna says it’s upsetting Zuko – Zuko, for his part, gives very little if any indication that he knows the three of them are there and appears completely unperturbed either by the labour or Sokka’s trembling anxiety. Zuko’s gaze seems to have gone inward, as if he is communing with something greater, something the rest of them could not hope to comprehend. Sokka is a little gratified, though he won’t admit it to himself, when he briefly leaves to take a piss, and on his return sees Zuko craning his neck from his nest, looking to see where he went. He didn’t do that when Kanna went outside to get more snow.

The sun has risen and set again when Zuko’s posture changes slightly. Even sitting at a slight distance, not staring at Zuko, Sokka sees it out of the corner of his eye, and when he glances across to Kanna he knows she’s seen it too.

The next contraction comes, and rather than breathing through it, Zuko hunches forward and groans, bracing his feet on the bed and white-knuckling his hands in the blankets. Sokka jumps to his feet and Kanna waves a hand dismissively at him, crossing to sit on the bed next to Zuko. The contraction passes and Zuko looks around wildly, as if seeing the room and the people in it for the first time.

“Zuko. Zuko. Zu-ko.” Kanna says, trying to get Zuko’s attention. Zuko blinks rapidly at her, as if struggling to focus.

“Zuko, are you pushing?”

Zuko nods, and Sokka almost falls over.          

“Can I check you?” Kanna asks           

Zuko nods, and Sokka moves to stand by Zuko’s head as Kanna examines him. Zuko looks up at Sokka, and holds up his hand for Sokka to hold. He winces and breathes as Kanna performs what appears to be a very thorough examination.

“Well done Zuko, you’re fully dilated and she’s starting to come down.”

Zuko smiles and rests his head back, looking up at Sokka as if for approval, which Sokka is more than happy to provide.          

“Well done Zuko, you did so well! Look at you!”

Zuko smiles wider and tips his head the way he does when he wants a kiss, and Sokka gives him a little peck on the lips (mindful of his sister and grandmother in the room) and a longer kiss on the cheek. Suddenly a thought occurs to Sokka

“She?” he asks Kanna, who raises an eyebrow.

“OK Zuko, with the next contraction give us a nice long push.”

Zuko seems more present now, listening to Kanna’s instructions and reaching out for Sokka during contractions. Sokka is going to have fingernail crescents embedded in his hands but he knows better than to complain.

As the labour goes on and Zuko keeps pushing he gets more and more distressed, initially managing to obey Kanna’s instructions to keep his lips closed and make as little noise as possible, all energy going downwards, but just when Kanna says she can see the top of baby’s head, Zuko starts keening and rocking, shifting back and forward and from side to side.

“Zuko, what is it? Another contraction?” Sokka asks, running his free hand through Zuko’s hair.

“No” Katara says, feeling Zuko’s bump, as Zuko whimpers “It still hurts, it hurts”

“Baby’s close now, everything’s getting stretched, and it does hurt, especially with your first baby, but everything’s fine, Zuko” Kanna reassures them, and Zuko makes a vain attempt to hide his face in the back of Sokka’s hand, and Sokka feels tears on the back of his hand and his heart breaks.

“I know Zuko” Katara pets over his hair, stroking his back. “I know, it’s been such a long time, you must be so tired, I know it hurts; but baby’s so close, you can do it!”

Zuko’s shoulders shake with sobs, and then another groan gathers in his throat and even Sokka can tell there’s another contraction coming.

“All right Zuko, push!” Katara says, hand on Zuko’s shoulder encouragingly.

Zuko starts to push, but he’s gritting his teeth and wide eyed, and can’t keep himself from crying out in pain.

“Zuko, it’s OK” Katara starts to say, but then Zuko starts wailing.

“No, I can’t do it, it hurts too much, it’s too much, make it stop – Sokka, make it stop!”

“Katara!” Sokka cries, too wise even while frantic to try to appeal to his grandmother.

“Zuko!” Gran-gran’s authoritative voice rings out. “Give me your hand.”

Zuko shakingly extends the hand that isn’t holding Sokka’s hand, and Gran-gran gently takes his wrist and guides his hand between his legs.

“You feel that?”

Zuko nods

“That’s the top of your baby’s head.”

Zuko looks up at Sokka in wonder, and Sokka chances a glance down. He gets an impression of a dome edging out between Zuko’s legs, covered in hair.

“Lots of hair!” Katara says, and Zuko laughs wetly.

“With the next push, baby’s head will be born, and that’s the biggest part – the rest of baby will be easy in comparison.”

Zuko looks up at Sokka dubiously, and Sokka kisses his forehead and rubs his back.

“You can do anything.” he says with complete sincerity, and Zuko lies back, looking at the opposite wall, a determined expression on his face as he breathes the way he was breathing through contractions.

Kanna and Zuko seem to realise there’s going to be another contraction at the same time, and Zuko sits up a little, takes his hand out of Sokka’s to brace on the bed, and screws up his face to push down with all his might.

“Yes, just like that, she’s coming – stop pushing, little pushes – that’s her head out! Have you got another push in you?” Kanna asks.

Zuko answers by taking another deep breath and pushing again – and then there’s a splash and Kanna saying “Congratulations!” and putting the baby on Zuko’s stomach, on the outside this time, and Sokka is so stunned he just stares as Zuko puts his arms around her and coos as if there’s nothing remarkable about all this at all.

“Wake up, little one” Katara says, rubbing the baby with a towel, and the baby obediently screws up their little face, turns beet red and howls.

“It’s OK, it’s OK” Zuko says to the baby as Katara drapes another towel over the two of them. Overwhelmed, Sokka focuses on the only part he can take in – the baby’s little hand clenching and unclenching in the fabric of Zuko’s robe.

“Do you have names picked out?” Katara asks.

“Izumi, for a girl” Zuko says.

Katara hesitates for a moment then lifts the blanket.

“It is a girl!” she says.

“Happy birthday, Izumi” Zuko says, and looks up at Sokka for the first time, his eyes shining, and Sokka bursts into tears.

He senses, rather than sees, Katara rolling her eyes fondly as she comes round to Sokka’s side and pushes a chair behind him so he can sit down as he looks at his family, at his daughter.

Sokka hides his face in Zuko’s shoulder and hears Zuko making soothing noises. As Izumi quiets and stops crying, Sokka calms down too.

“You did it!” he whispers to Zuko, and gives him a quick kiss.

“You do remember there’s another baby coming, right?” Katara says, sounding half-sarcastic, and Zuko tenses minutely.

“You OK?” Sokka asks, stroking Zuko’s hair back

 “I’m having another contraction” Zuko’s eyes are wide “Can you-”

“I’ll take her” Kanna says, straightening up and picking Izumi up off Zuko’s chest. “Katara!”

Katara takes up Kanna’s position between Zuko’s legs.

“OK Zuko, let me just”

Katara is interrupted by a gush of water that soaks her and the bed.

“What is that?” Sokka asks, as Zuko tries to apologise.

“That’s the waters breaking for the second baby,” Katara says grimly. “Zuko, can I check you?”

Zuko nods, his face tense with worry, and Izumi chooses that inopportune moment to start wailing. Zuko and Sokka both whip their heads round to look at where Kanna is checking her over.

“Madam doesn’t care for having her cord trimmed” Kanna says lightly, and then, appearing to address the baby. “No, you need to have a nappy on. Yes you do. I’m not arguing about this.”

Zuko half-laughs and then looks surprised when Katara withdraws her hand from him, her face grave.

“Gran-gran, this baby’s breech.”

“That’s OK, it’s a second twin.” Gran-gran says, sounding completely unconcerned as she swaddles Izumi.

“What does that mean?” Zuko asks, wide-eyed.

“Baby’s going to be born backwards. It can be a little more difficult than head-first”

“More difficult than that!” Sokka exclaims.

“Sokka, be helpful or be quiet, pick one!” Katara snarls.

“I can do it.” Zuko says quietly, and Sokka nearly cries again. “Just tell me what to do.”

Katara looks at Zuko in awe for a second, then gathers herself.

“For baby’s body to be born, we just need you to push like you did before. To deliver baby’s head, we’ll get you to come to the edge of the bed so baby’s body can hang down – that’ll help baby’s head to flex to the right angle so the head can be born – Sokka, can you move some chairs to the end of the bed for Zuko’s feet?”

Sokka obeys eagerly, keen to redeem himself. Zuko holds his hand as he pushes, and then holds out his other hand. As Zuko moves towards the end of the bed, it’s only natural for Sokka to kick off his shoes and kneel on the bed behind Zuko, his head on Zuko’s shoulder, his hands in Zuko’s.

“You’re doing so well” he whispers, and kisses Zuko’s cheek, and Zuko smiles and leans back against Sokka.

“Baby’s coming!” Katara says with the next push, and Zuko makes an angry grunting noise.

“OK, I’m just going to help baby’s legs to come out” Katara says, and Zuko nods, then shouts

“Ow!”

“Sorry” Katara says, not sounding sorry in the slightest. Sokka cranes his neck but can’t see anything.

“Zuko, come to the edge of the bed”

It’s easier said than done with half a baby hanging out of him, but between the three of them they manage. Gran-gran’s rocking Izumi to keep her quiet but wanders over and cranes her neck to see what’s going on between Zuko’s legs.

“Contraction?” she asks

“No-“ Zuko starts to say, then frowns, and nods.

“Push.” Katara says matter of factly, and Zuko pushes.

“Good” Kanna says, and Katara nods.

“All right, baby’s body’s been born, I’m just going to get his arms out”

This time Zuko doesn’t make a sound, but screws up his face.

“Hands up!” Kanna says sharply, and Zuko and Sokka both put their hands up and look at her, wide-eyed. She gives them a withering look

“I was talking to Katara.”

Katara is, indeed, kneeling on the floor between Zuko’s legs with her hands at the level of her shoulders.

“That’s it, just let it hang there.” Kanna says. Sokka is suddenly very glad he can’t see his baby dangling by his head over the hard wood floor.

Zuko breathes slowly, deliberately, and Sokka rubs his shoulders in what he hopes is a soothing gesture.

“Contraction” Zuko says through gritted teeth, and Sokka feels the tension in the room ramp up.

“Give us a push” Kanna says, before starting to mutter to Katara “That’s it, hand under the body, just help to tip his head – yes, just like that.”

Sokka vaguely registers Kanna setting Izumi down in the crib before Zuko howls, and another splash and Katara’s gasp tells them the baby has been born. Kanna kneels behind Katara.

“Give him to me. Cut the cord.”

“Is he all right?” Sokka asks, and no one answers him.

Kanna steps back and takes the baby to the table where she had wrapped Izumi, but he isn’t crying, isn’t breathing. Sokka can see that he isn’t the healthy pink-brown colour that Izumi was, either – he looks grey.

“Sokka?” Zuko is craning his head to look at him, his eyes wide and terrified.

“They always come out stunned when they’re born breech” Kanna says, sounding remarkably calm. “Come on, wake up”

She clears some mucus out of the baby’s mouth and finally bends her head and blows into his mouth, and he starts wriggling. Just slightly.

Kanna does it again, and this time he makes a gurgling noise, then cries, loud and long, and Zuko sinks back against Sokka in relief.

“Can I hold him?” he asks, reaching out towards Kanna.

“Of course you can.” she says, picking up the baby and taking him to Zuko. “Here”

She pulls Zuko’s robe apart at the front and tucks the baby in next to Zuko’s skin, putting another blanket on top of them. The baby settles and curls in to Zuko, mouthing at his collarbone.

“Hello baby” Zuko says softly, before turning to Kanna “He isn’t crying any more.”

“He knows you. He’s happy.” Kanna says simply, before Katara says “Uh, Gran-gran” and she turns back to Katara.

“I see,” Gran-gran says, and turns back to Zuko

“Zuko, remember we talked about giving you a tea to make your womb contract?”

“Yes.”

“We need to give it. You’re losing some blood. Get up, Sokka, so Zuko can lie back.

Sokka scrambles out of the way and rearranges Zuko’s pillows so he can lie back. Zuko appears remarkably calm, but then he can’t see the size of the pool of blood on the bed and on the floor – and on Katara for that matter.

“That’s both placentas” Katara says

“Good” Kanna says. “Rub up a contraction.”

Katara rubs Zuko’s stomach and he winces.

“That hurts!” He exclaims.

“Sorry, Zuko, I need to do this” Katara says apologetically.

Kanna appears with a cup of something that smells so foul that Sokka turns away, gagging, and Zuko jerks his head back reflexively.

“If you make me drink that I’ll be sick.” Zuko says matter of factly, and Kanna considers for a moment and takes it away.

“I’ll give you the one for sickness first, then wait for it to take effect before we give it.”

Zuko scowls, and Katara, from her position between Zuko’s legs, says “Uhhhh...”        

Kanna and Sokka both look between Zuko’s legs. Zuko seems blithely unconcerned about whether or not he is actively bleeding to death, and contents himself with cooing at his son, tickling his tiny palm so that the baby grasps his finger.

“You’ll need to put your hand inside” Kanna says, as another gush of blood comes out with Katara’s firm rubbing on the top of Zuko’s recalcitrant womb.

“Inside where?” Sokka asks, and Katara and Kanna and even Zuko look at him as if he’s lost his mind.

“No!” Sokka shouts, springing up from his chair.

“Not up to you.” Katara says grimly, looking up at Zuko. “Zuko?”

Zuko looks at her with an expression that says he would prefer not.

“Do you have to?”

“Zuko.” Kanna says, taking Sokka’s vacated seat. “You have a wound inside your womb where the placentas were attached – bigger than usual because there were two of them. The womb needs to contract to stop the bleeding but it has been stretched even more than in a usual pregnancy because there were two babies instead of just one. And your womb is tired because it was your first labour and it lasted a long time. The tea will make your womb contract, but you need to take the sickness medicine first” here she breaks off to give Zuko a spoonful of something which, according to his facial expression, doesn’t taste great “and by the time we give it and it takes effect, you could have lost half your blood at the rate you’re going. If Katara puts her hand inside she can almost stop the bleeding, and give time for us to give you the medicine.”

Zuko looks miserable.

“Her whole hand?”

“It’s smaller than a baby” Katara says.

“Agni, family reunions are going to be awkward” Zuko says grouchily, letting his legs fall to the sides.

His eyes nearly pop out of his head as Katara eases her hand inside, and he looks at her and Kanna accusingly.

“Won’t be long” Kanna says, unconcerned.

Zuko groans as Katara continues to rub the top of his womb, and lets his head fall back on the pillows.

“My hand’s getting tired” Katara says at length.

“If I’m not allowed to complain about a sore hand, neither are you!” Sokka shoots back. Zuko snorts with laughter, and then winces. Sokka chances another glance between Zuko’s legs and regrets it. It has definitely slowed, but there’s a lot of blood. And he can see Katara’s arm, but only to the wrist, which is horrifying.

Kanna looks out the window, where the sun is rising.

“I think we can give the medicine for the womb.”

She brings the tea to Zuko again. Zuko makes a face of revulsion, holds his nose and drinks it. He retches, but purses his lips and breathes evenly.

Izumi chooses that moment to start screaming, and Zuko and Sokka’s heads both snap to her.

“Let’s try some distraction” Kanna says, picking Izumi up out of her crib. “Breastfeeding. Helps the womb to contract too.”

Zuko obediently opens the front of his robe and guides Izumi’s face to his breast – she is already mouthing, seeking.

“Come on, you’re so close” Zuko says, adjusting the way he holds Izumi slightly. “Nearly, nearly – there!”

He looks up at Kanna in wonderment, and even Sokka can see the strong pull of Izumi’s latch.

“She’s a natural.” Kanna says, smiling between Izumi and Zuko. “You’re a natural.”

Zuko beams.

“Zuko” Katara says. “I’m going to move my hand. Maybe let Sokka help hold”

Sokka puts one arm around Zuko and one on his shoulder, and Kanna braces her hands on Zuko’s where he holds Izumi.

Katara withdraws her hand and Zuko winces.

Katara straightens up, her hand and forearm coated in blood, and wiggles her fingers as if trying to get life back into them.

“I can never look at you the same” Zuko says.

Katara shrugs.

An hour later both babies are fed, Zuko has been able to have a wash and change into a clean robe and there are clean sheets on the bed. Katara and Kanna have washed the (many, many) bloodied sheets and towels and are hanging them up to dry. The babies are sleeping and Zuko is dozing. His face is the colour of milk except for the dark shadows under his eyes, he’s so tired he can barely speak and he struggled to stand steadily when they were changing the bed, but he’s alive, and Sokka is only now starting to understand that that was by no means guaranteed.

Kanna whispers instructions to him – today, let Zuko rest, tomorrow, try to get him to walk across the room. Feed the babies every few hours – they’ll let you know when it’s time. Change all the nappies at least for the first few days so Zuko can concentrate his energy on breastfeeding and recovering. Make sure you do a wash at least once a day or you’ll run out.

Sokka nods, Katara and Kanna slip out and begin their trek back to the village – oh wait, no, Katara’s waterbending them home. Sokka turns back from the door and looks at his husband in the bed and his babies in their crib, and only then does he realise how absolutely dog-tired he is.

He strips off his trousers, boots and tunic, leaving his long shirt and socks on, and climbs into bed behind Zuko, trying not to wake him. He fails.

“Hey.” Zuko says, eyes fluttering open.

“Hey.” Sokka replies, his hand going to Zuko’s stomach. “Tui, you’re so flat now, I can’t believe it.”

“I can’t believe they’re here.” Zuko looks across at them. “Are they-?”

“Asleep. Like we should be.” Sokka says firmly, pulling Zuko into him.

They sleep.