AN: A little drabble for Savethetag oneadays on tumblr.I was inspired by They Rise Like a Phoenix by Like a Dove and the music video for Now by Paramore (a must see btw). Am I forever doomed to write dark!fics?

Toph quaked with anticipation and trepidation. She knew he was a killer, Agni, she was too. But it still hurt to see him like this.

No one knew what brought these episodes on, these bouts of insanity. Even years after the war ending, he still reverted back sometimes. The war changed them all, it wasn't right for children to be drenched in Fire Nation blood at the end of the day. They never should have had to do it, they should have still been in their warm beds, parents tucking them in, or wishing them sweet dreams. Sneaking treats before dinner, doing chores and disobeying their parents for a few more minutes of play before their baths. Unfortunately fate had a different plan for them. They were lured from their homes and hurled into a world of death and hate and war. They all killed. Even Aang once or twice.

But no one was as damaged as Sokka. Toph knew she could be killed, standing here like this. This was when Sokka was at his most dangerous.

He was unstable.

Unhinged.

Scared.

Feral.

Deadly.

He saw things sometimes. Toph did not judge him, for she suffered from chronic nightmares. Katara could sometimes feel the tug of enemies' blood in her fingertips. Zuko saw ghosts in his left eye, now completely useless except to torment him. Aang heard the voices of those who suffered. Suki was dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Some thought that's what sent their warrior over the edge. But Toph knew it was so much more than that. She knew why the man she loved was tormented. It was the stress, the unforgettable images seared into his brain with a hot branding iron. It was the blood that soaked his hands, saturated his clothes and sprayed across his face. It was the sounds of war; breaking bones, metal wrenching through flesh, anguished screams and the constant crackling of fire that always seemed to follow them.

What a broken bunch of saviors they were.

They were not insane, the strange plagues that cursed their little group were not constant, but fleeting specks on the tapestry of their lives.

But Toph knew what these episodes could do to a man. Her man. He hurt himself on several occasions, pulling muscles or twisting joints.

She watched as Sokka swung his sword wildly but precisely at invisible enemies in the walled-in backyard. His mouth twisted into a snarl, growls rumbling in his chest. He was a mess. But Toph stood there dutifully, patiently. Waiting. Sometimes this little moments of misplaced reality would last upwards of an hour or usually until he wore himself out and came back to the present. There was never a warning when these bouts with insanity would rear their heads so they were always careful. His sword and boomerang were in a tall cabinet with a latch and his knives in sheaths with buckles. This way he could get to them quickly if they were truly under attack, but made it harder for him to access when he was in these crazed states. He usually became very uncoordinated with his fine motor skills.

She knew he was the most damaged of them all because he killed people in man-to-man combat, killed people with his bare hands even. There was a difference between sending a wave of fire or water and someone, leaving them die on their own, and running someone through with a weapon and feeling their life slip away under your fingers. Seeing your foe stare at you and see the fear of death in his eyes. Toph understood this. Or at least a little. While she was one of them to kill with her bending, she actually had to feel her strikes slam into her combatants. But, there was always so much going on in a battle, it was hard to distinguish the last breath of a dying soldier from the labored intake of the living.

They had been married for seven years. They had a small ceremony the day she turned sixteen, legal marrying age, (because they just couldn't wait any longer) and moved into a beautiful home on the south-most tip of the Earth Kingdom. They both knew they had to deal with these disarraying episodes. Of course they only showed up perhaps twice a year, maybe three times at most. Somehow though, Sokka had managed to get ahold of his space sword this time and it made him ten times as deadly.

Yes. Toph knew she could be killed.

These were the times when Sokka was lost, unguided and misdirected. He didn't know reality from memory and struck out and whoever stood in the way. Real or not. And not on purpose, no. No, never on purpose. He had clipped her a few times, thinking she was some figment of his imagination. She sported bruises and a chipped molar, but they were small fees to pay. She loved him and he did not deserve to suffer alone. She was a loyal wife, never anything less. So she watched. And waited.

He was getting tired now, sweat dripping and rolling down his face and neck. His hair was disheveled and strands stuck to his head. He was breathing hard, his lungs laboring to keep up with his demands. He was shaking all over. His spine quaked and his arms quivered. His shirt was stuck to his chest and back with sweat. It seemed the only thing to bring him back to earth in a hurry was a gentle touch on his cheek or jaw, maybe a tiny squeeze on his arms or wrists. Nothing threatening. His swings became slower and less precise and she knew she could move in now, if she went slowly. She started to creep towards him, quietly, not drawing attention to herself just yet.

She came withing striking distance and she knew, if there was anytime she would die, it would be here, in this circle of the reach of his sword. "Sokka," she said softly. "It's Toph. Everythings ok, no one is here but me and you alright?" He seemed to not hear her. "Let's go back inside now," she said a little louder than she intended to.

He swung around to face her, blue eyes iced over in frenzy. A sharp intake of air made her gasp as she froze. Maybe this would be the time he killed her. His arm twitched, debating on raising the sword to finish her. She made her move then and stepped into his arms, her hands finding his face and smoothing over his shoulders to his biceps and then his wrists. His pretty tundra eyes cleared and he dropped his sword as Toph's fingers interlaced with his.

"It's over now. You don't have to be afraid," she said.