I am so sorry for the delay. I just got back from a short vacation and I completely forgot that I wouldn't have internet until about an hour after I left. Although maybe it's for the best... you're going to hate me.

It takes so long to find her. Zuko's not a fool, he knew from the beginning that it would take a long time, but when he finally finds her he thinks over how long its been, how much he's missed her, and he can't believe it. He touches the headstone that marks her grave and bows his head, and thinks disconnected thoughts about time and love and infinity. There is incense, but he doesn't light it.

She died six months ago. Six months before he found her. After all that time, he just barely misses his mother. He can't wrap his head around it.

Six months ago, while giving birth to her second son, her fourth child. He always thought of her as his mother, barely Azula's and no one else's, but he is forced to see the truth. He looks into the gold eyes of Amha and Bataar, and cannot deny that they are her children. How foolish of him, to think that she could stop being a mother as easily as she had stopped being a princess. Never forget who you are.

Zuko tells Gengi that he and Tala (of course she wouldn't go by Ursa, not here in the middle of the Earth Kingdom nowhere) were separated by the war. Mothers lost their sons all the time in the war, and the man is kind. He understands. The same grief is reflected in their green and gold eyes, and he pulls Zuko into a fatherly embrace that knocks the breath and words from him. For once, Katara doesn't know what to do.

Gengi invites them to stay the night, and Amha is fascinated by everything about Zuko. She doesn't notice his grief or his scar, she is too busy asking questions about Appa and Katara and the whole world. She is six years old, and despite himself he loses a little part of his heart to her. This is a little sister who will never try to kill him.

Bataar is so young, but Zuko doesn't know how to look at him. This is the son Ursa died for, while Zuko is the one she killed for. Zuko's never had nor wanted a brother before, but he feels an instant bond with the child and it scares him. Katara holds the boy as often as she can in their one night stay. As Gengi cleans the dishes from dinner, she whispers in Zuko's ear that Bataar looks just like him.

"I don't look like my mother, though," he tells her, confused. She shrugs.

He can't ask Gengi, this simple farmer, to come back to the Fire Nation palace, as dearly as he wants to, just so he can indulge in the selfish pleasure of being a big brother all over again. But he does ask if he can visit them here again, only occasionally, and send letters when they're old enough to read. Hesitation clouds Gengi's voice, but he agrees. Zuko knows that the little family will be happier without this stranger with his scar and his baggage and his memories of their lost mother, and he regrets asking.

The farmhouse is small, in the middle of nowhere but wheat, and he and Katara sleep on makeshift pallets in the sitting room. They can hear Gengi tossing and turning on the upper floor, and Bataar crying sporadically throughout the night. Katara is a heavy sleeper and it doesn't bother her, but she reaches over and places her hand on top of his before she goes to sleep.

Zuko waits until one or perhaps two in the morning, when Bataar and Gengi are both sound asleep. He slips his hand from Katara's, and walks out of the house. He walks far, more than half a mile away, before he stops and draws his swords. He tells himself it's practice, slicing wheat and trees and anything he can find, before stabbing the ground repeatedly.

Zuko falls. His knees hit the ground and he screams. He screams until his throat as raw, and it's not enough. Fire roars from his jaw and he pounds the ground, wanting something immovable to just give way, dammit, if he can't fight fate then can't he fight something else? His fingernails dig into the dirt.

For the first time he can remember, Zuko gives in not just to the tears but to great wracking sobs that consume his whole body, burn his lungs, tear the tender flesh of his throat. The wind whips at his screams and sobs.

It doesn't take long for a warm hand to rest on his shoulder. When he doesn't turn, she kneels at his side and slips her other hand around. She moves him, pulls him away from the tug of wind and offers him her entire self. He accepts it, opens himself to her, clutches at the fabric of her clothes and presses his body to hers. Katara is not immovable, she gives way to him in his grief. A sob wants to escape from her as she too thinks of her mother, but she holds it back, letting it stray only far enough to let him know that she understands. She wipes the tears from his face. Soft hands.

He rests his head on her collarbone and she holds them there. The stars capture her attention. She won't look at him, she knows he will be embarrassed and will conveniently forget about this in twelve hours, but she will never stop. Silently, her own tears fall. Ashamed, she holds him tighter.

Time passes, and the sun rises.

She is now the most important woman in his life.