Author's Note: Sorry if this needs to change when new episodes air. It's not particularly funny, but there is some depressing stuff, like death. Yipee!
Disclaimer: I do not own Avatar: The Last Airbender or any of the characters in this story. (Except Lea, she's mine :-)
Chapter 1 – What About The Others?
Zuko's good eye leaked tears.
It wasn't often that Zuko found himself crying: only once or twice as a child, and a few times as he stepped into adulthood. Now, as an adult, he thought it shameful.
Since Ozai died, things had become hard for Zuko. Azula had run away to God knows where, the pressure on him to produce heirs became increasingly heavy, and Iroh had become more and more solitary, so much so that he could only be seen extending his hand past the boundaries of his bedroom door just far enough to reach the pot of tea his servant had left for him.
The only thing that made being the Firelord worthwhile was his wife. She made it seem as though all his problems never existed, and when he was with her, he didn't want to leave. Her cool, gentle touch calmed him and quenched the burning flame inside him. When he was with her, he was a different person: a calm, relaxed and compassionate person, not the angry, stressed and temperamental person he was when he was attempting to run the country. In Zuko's opinion, she was amazing. But now, when he needed her, she was somewhere else.
To keep his mind off things, Zuko thought of what she must be doing now. She was off volunteering to be a nurse in the Earth Kingdom. When she had suggested it he said it was a stupid idea, but she had said I need to help these people, and he said yes, fine, it was the right thing to do. When she left, he felt like his heart had been smashed up into tiny pieces. They shared one last kiss, and then she was gone. He wondered if he would ever see her again, but he did not cry. He just kept it bottled up. She was probably healing wounds and injuries (like she had offered to heal mine, he thought), tending the sick (like she had attempted to do to my father as he lay on his deathbed, he thought), and burying those who hadn't been so lucky (not that she herself had had to do that before, but it was still nice to think about her, nonetheless, he thought.).
He sat up on his bed. Tears still trickled out of his right eye, but he felt a bit better. His brain was still jumbled and confused; he had so many questions, only one of which he could answer right now. He slowly lifted himself off his bed and opened his door. The journey down the corridor was a long one, and Zuko began to get restless, but then he realised that he didn't actually want it to end. Eventually, it did. He raised his arm and knocked three sharp, loud knocks on his uncle's door.