When the world-famous non-bender died, there were a lot of questions. Who inherited what? What was to be done with his things? His house was of course turned over to the closest living relative, and many of his written ideas and plans were immediately snapped up by interested historians.

One of the most hotly contested items after his death though, were his weapons.

"This Sword is far too magnificent to be left to rot in some moldy museum!"

"Well it certainly can't be buried with him!"

The tall woman clad in metal stood stiffly in the corner, ignored by the arguing men. Stupid Sokka, stupid idiot not dictating what he wanted to be done with his stuff, idiot for getting killed…

The funeral was tomorrow. He was to be buried in Republic City.

Katara had protested so hard against the decision. Tried to insist that he should get a proper Water Tribe Funeral. But there was no one willing to allow their precious councilman to be placed on a funeral boat with his favorite weapon, and consigned to the waters. To light the blubber fires, and tell stories about his deeds deep into the night-

Toph's hands curled into fists, as rock shivered beneath bare toes.

Republic City was a greedy city, demanding, taking, clawing, sucking until all life belonged to her. She wouldn't allow her councilman to go home- no, she claimed his body viciously. Sokka had to be buried in the Republic City, to show that even in death, one couldn't claim he didn't belong.

Katara had given up on the funeral arrangements, stating that she would be conducting her own private ceremony, one that reflected her homelands. None but those invited were allowed. Toph agreed to attend Katara's, if only not to watch Sokka's coffin be wrapped in Earth.

For although earth was her mother element, warm, solid and comforting, it wasn't Sokka.

The siblings were the water. Sokka was the ocean to his sisters river- seemingly without direction, but filled with endless depths and hidden mysteries. Where Katara flowed on swiftly, rolling obstacles out of the way, Sokka wore them down until they vanished.

He didn't belong to the Earth.

Sokka had never belonged to earth, no matter how much Toph wished he would.

"We will discuss the matter of the weapons after the funeral gentlemen."

Katara's sharp voice broke through the hubaloo, steady and stern. Flowing on, past the men that attempted to break in, protesting. "As for now, I believe we have arrangements to make."

That was the Katara she knew. Not the one that had announced that she wouldn't be attending- "I want to make sure that my brothers public funeral goes smoothly. The private one is still of course being conducted if you wish to come Toph."

The woman grinned, and muscles protested the movement. It didn't feel right. Not so soon… but that was life, wasn't it? Besides, if Sweetness wanted to show these people how exactly a Water Tribe member did something… "Wouldn't miss it for the world Sugar Queen."

Katara was probably smiling. She couldn't tell- while seismic sense was a lot more precise now, there were just too many people in the room to really connect. "Everyone- get out!"

Everyone scattered instantly, leaving behind just Toph and Katara. "Toph- I- I'm sorry."

"For what? It's not like it could've been helped."

Bones cracked and crunched, filling her ears as her feet moved without her consent, closer and closer to the man, and she could hear Sokka's gurgles and cries. Then a terrible, terrible silence-

"Twinkle-toes gave him the what-too." Toph murmured, taking a step closer to the table that held the various weapons that Sokka had used over the years. Her fingers ran across the space sword, felt it vibrate in her hands, practically begging to be bent like her hairband.

Toph withdrew her hand, raising it up to her hair, held back by the modified meteorite metal that Sokka had given her. It was part of her, as much as her senses. No matter what, she hadn't allowed herself to be separated from the gift, now made twice as precious.

"He should be buried with at least his boomerang. It was his first and favorite weapon. He gave it it's soul." Katara murmured sadly, fingers brushing against the sword. Toph snorted loudly.

"A soul? If it did, why didn't it ever come back?"

"It's a tale. A tale handed down in the tribes. If you care enough for a weapon, if you love it enough, it will develop a soul that will resonate with yours, and will never be parted." Katara leaned against the table, and Toph 'watched' as a hand pressed against sword, club, fan-

Katara laughed, a little foggily, through silent tears that wore away at stone, "Sokka never replaced Boomerang. Claimed he couldn't. He couldn't find it either. But if it was here…"

Toph flicked her hand against the sword, bumping against Katara's hand deliberately.

The woman shook her head, gathering all of her courage into herself. "Let's do this."

It was done.

Sokka was buried.

Sokka was buried, had been buried for exactly one night. Nothing to worry about. So here she was, at work, getting ready for a new day. Criminals didn't rest just because there was a huge funeral. (stopping even for a second brought too many memories)

So there was one idiotic councilman out of the way. Toph could always get behind that (except when it was her best friend) and she had work (finding someone new to read her letters because a stupid meathead was no longer available) that needed to be finished (Sokka was in the middle of creating a way for her to read and write but they had never finished it) and sent to her minions (some of which were walking and staggering suspiciously but for once she was going easy).

And first order of business was to get rid of all of these old scrolls-

The feeling of running feet hit the edges of her senses, and Toph paused in front of her room. The people in front of the running feet parted like a sea, but followed at a slightly slower pace. Whatever it was, it was big.

Toph strode in that direction, snapping on her armor as she walked. "What's going on?!"

"Ch-Chief Beinfong! You- You have to come see! It's Mister Sokka's grave- it's- it's-"

Toph left at a dead run.

She was going to murder the idiotic moron who had dared desecrate the bravest man in the world grave and she'd claw out his innards with his own two bare hands, and burn the body into a little crisp and dance on the ashes. Twinkle-Toes would be welcome to join her.

Toph skidded around the corner of the graves, headed straight for the most recent area where the earth had been destroyed, where the cool stone that Twinkle-toes himself had carved had been placed.

Chief Toph Beifong came to a dead halt.

The Blind Bandit felt her eyes begin to fill, as she 'saw' it. As clearly as day, wedged in so deeply to the stone that it would be impossible to remove.

"I guess you were wrong Captain." A sob worked its way out of a throat. Tears ran freely down her face as her hands fell on the object.

The curved metal was worn from age, chipped and almost beginning to rust in a few places. But she would recognize it anywhere.

"Boomerang does always come back."

-end-

a/n: Inspired by the picture here: dirman . deviantart com / gallery/#/d56xjr7