Been a while since I did one of these. I've been having a hard time with my chaptered fics of late, so I decided to work on some of the Maiko Month prompts I never managed to finish. This one isn't my best, but hopefully you like it all the same. ^_^

Soundtrack: Nothing Wrong – Emma Shapplin

Sympathy

It is cold outside. He knows he should go back, but just thinking about the palace makes his chest tighten as if something were squeezing his lungs. Being home isn't at all how he thought it would be; in truth, he hasn't been able to relax since the day he first stepped onto Azula's ship.

A sigh escapes his lips and he places his head in his hands, trying not to think of the memories: of the cave where a boy with glowing eyes had fallen, lightning crackling all around him in blue flashes; of the father he is still trying to please, even as his heart clings to the old man he left to rot in a prison cell. The light shifts behind the shield of his palms, and he is not surprised when he hears the rustling of cloth as someone sits down on the grass beside him, graceful and calm.

Mai.

The name whispers through his mind like a talisman, and he immediately feels the suffocating tightness in his chest loosen, making it easier for him to breathe. He raises his head and gives her a side-long glance. She is not looking at him, but that doesn't matter. What matters is that she is here with him. What matters is that, in that moment, she is the most beautiful thing he has seen—all silken ink and moonlight—and he loves her even more for the fact that she could impale him to a wall in less than three seconds if she wanted thanks to the weapons she wears under her clothes like a second skin.

He shifts his gaze to stare at the ocean, watching the sun set in glowing streams of orange and red. "I spoke with my father today," he says softly.

The words linger between them, heavy and loaded with meaning. She is not stupid; she knows that his relationship with his father is complicated and that something is clearly bothering him—has been since before he was reunited with her in Ba Sing Se. Their eyes meet for a moment, but she doesn't say anything. Her thoughts have always been expressed in different ways. A tiny smile, the gentle pressure of a hand on his arm.

A kiss.

He feels her hand slip in his now, intertwining their fingers. He knows better than to mistake her silence for apathy. There is more whispered in her simple gesture than any words could have expressed. Something warm and fragile blossoms in his chest, joining with the beat of his heart. He returns the pressure of her grip, content to sit with her as they watch the sun sink into shadowed slumber, taking away with it the orange that Mai oh-so-hates. It is a long time before he returns to the palace.