I own no part of Avatar: Fan fiction only.

Nightmares and Peace

Aang rolled out of bed into a crouch, hands raised to defend and instantly alert, when a tiny fist delivered a barrage to their door that threatened to shake it from its hinges.

"Get your sorry self out here, Twinkletoes!"

Aang groaned when Bumi started wailing. Katara opened a bleary eye. "Hand me the baby, and get rid of her—it's not even daybreak yet! Tell her I'll see her—" Katara was unable to stifle her yawn, "—she can talk to us at breakfast. I want to talk before she tries healing any of you. We should do it together."

Aang pulled a silk robe over his shoulders as he padded through the apartment. Even though they had slept for hours, he still felt wrung out, and his body ached as he crept through the darkness. Toph had started beating on the door again, this time with both fists. Aang yanked it open and caught her fists. Toph grinned wickedly.

"Morning, daddy."

Even through his exhaustion and annoyance at Toph's early intrusion, his mouth quirked into a dopy grin. Aang's grip on her fists relaxed, but she could feel through the touch that his heart rate swelled and she felt his body straighten in pride. He is pleased . . . good for him. It's about time they had some real happiness. Toph jerked a hand back and landed an affectionate punch in Aang's shoulder.

"Congrats on the sprout. Katara says you broke your bending."

Aang rubbed his shoulder where Toph had punched him. He tossed a look over his shoulder in the direction of the bedroom before stepping into the hallway and quietly closing the door. Though always rough, Toph hadn't hit him that hard, but real pain was radiating up his neck to his chin and down his arms to his fingertips.

Aang glanced at the guards that were always posted at the end of the hallway, perpetually guarding the privacy and safety of the royal family as they slept. He was surprised to see the captain of Zuko's personal guard, Weimin, and his lieutenant, Bingwen, themselves stationed at the end of the hall. The guards posted to this wing of the palace were selected for their loyalty, but it had likely been a decade since they had been set to personally guarding the royal family through the night. Still, he was grateful that they were there. Aang knew and liked both men, and he knew Zuko trusted them above anyone else in the palace. The last thing any of them wanted was for rumors to flood out of the Fire Nation that the Fire Lord, or worse, the Avatar, had lost his ability to bend.

Sensing his disquiet, Toph jerked her head in the direction of her own room, and she strode down the hall, expecting him to follow. Aang was wary of leaving Katara and Bumi, and he stood alone in the middle of the hall, regarding the broad backs of the guards as they stood unusually still, at attention even in the small hours of the morning.

He shuddered when he considered what must have happened when Zuko returned to find his palace in disarray only days after his own family had been attacked, his beloved daughter maimed. Even without the power to bend, Zuko's rage ran deep and hot, often harnessed just below the surface by a thin veil of civility. He had no doubt that there had been more than one execution last night, and the black flag stones of the throne room had likely been slick with the Fire Lord's retribution. Zuko was at the core a kind and generous man, loving and deeply empathetic, but he was still the Fire Lord. It was unlikely he would have suffered the guards that had permitted his family to be nearly slaughtered in his own home to have continued breathing long after he returned.

The palace was quieter than usual this morning, and the air felt tense and brittle. Even at this hour, he could normally sense a handful of footsteps vibrating through the floor, feel brooms pushed over the floor and pots bubbling in the kitchens, and faintly hear the incomprehensible rumble of whispered promises of lovers and the quiet conversation of guards forgotten at their posts. Tonight there was nothing. The stillness of fear had settled into the floor. In Ozai's time, such a lapse would likely have resulted in the slaughter of the entire staff. Although he regretted the loss of even a single life, Aang knew that nothing he could have said or done would have prevented the executions, but he was at least comforted knowing that Zuko was not Ozai. His punishment would have been restricted to only those he felt were directly responsible.

Still, he had to know. Sighing, Aang crossed the black lacquered floor to Weimin. When he looked into the guard's eyes, he saw concern, but not fear. "Weimin, Bingwen. What happened last night?"

Weimin exchanged a loaded look with Bingwen. He was likely weighing how much to tell the Avatar, but the entire household had always been instructed that when the Avatar and the Lady Katara were in residence, they were to be accorded the same authority as the Fire Lord and his lady. Even if it was delivered reluctantly, Aang knew he would get the unvarnished truth.

"When Fire Lord Zuko returned to the palace last night, he was very angry. He called the entire palace guard and household servants to the throne room. The only exceptions were the healers tending to the Lady Katara. When we were all gathered, he noticed that nearly three dozen of the guard and a handful of household staff were missing." Weimin exchanged another look with Bingwen before continuing. "He demanded to know where they were."

Aang looked between them in confusion. "Where were they?"

Weimin shifted his weight on his feet uncomfortably, and dropped his head in shame. "The missing men were those who had been on duty on the ramparts and in the catacombs when the Lady Mai, Princess Izumi, and Lady Katara fled the palace. Once the alarm had been sounded and we realized that the palace had been infiltrated, it took only moments to round up the survivors. We found the bodies of twenty men peppered with paper darts throughout the palace—they were dead before they had even had the chance to draw their blades. Four more had been hacked to bits by the intruders when they attempted to guard the private wing of the palace, six died defending the ramparts. It now appears that only six of the palace guards had been involved in the attack, and the attackers themselves came in through the kitchens."

"Where are they now?"

Bingwen answered. "I questioned two laundry maids and a cook. They were terrified—I don't think they knew what they had done. The cook opened the door for the butcher's boy—he was crying for help at the door. Apparently the butcher beats the boy, and he sleeps on the kitchen hearth most nights. When the cook opened the door, the boy was a bloody mess, cowering in the doorway, and more men than he could count rushed in. The cook and two laundry maids tried to stop them, but they were no match for them. One of the maids was able to slip away and rouse the rest of the guard, but the other maid was beaten within an inch of her life, and the healers doubt the cook will walk again. If it hadn't been for the maid that escaped, we would all likely have been slaughtered in our beds."

"And the six guards?"

"They all slipped away. Once the attackers realized that they had lost their quarry, they melted into the shadows."

Aang swayed on the spot, dizzy. Weimin reached out to catch him, but Aang braced himself against the wall with a hand. "Avatar, are you quite well?"

Weimin looked closely at the Avatar. Though always spare, his build willowy, Aang now looked like a collection of bones, his skin stretched too tight, and the cold moonlight accentuated his pallor. The flickering light of a wall sconce far down the hall caused shadows to dance in new hollows in his cheeks and in the grooves between his ribs, visible beneath the unbelted robe. Weimin had seen Aang only days ago, blooming with health; tonight he was little more than a wasting corpse.

Aang shivered and drew his robe around him. Though the night was sultry, he felt as though the air itself licked the warmth away from his clammy skin. He could feel beads of sweat trickling down his back and beading on his brow. "And the Fire Lord's retribution?"

Bingwen shook his head. "There was none. Many had given their lives in the fight, and those responsible were gone. We both offered ourselves to be executed for the offense, but the Fire Lord refused." Bingwen and Weimin kowtowed at Aang's feet. "Upon forfeiture of our very lives, there will never again be a threat upon the lives of the royal family or the Avatar's family in this palace. We will see to it personally."

Aang nodded and turned, tottering on his feet. He was relieved that Zuko had been merciful, and was a little ashamed that he had thought his friend would demonstrate anything but restraint. There was no possible comparison between Zuko and Ozai; the resemblance stopped at their raven hair and amber eyes.

Trailing a hand down the plaster wall for balance, his fingertips found a crack that ran from the ceiling to the floor, and he smiled wanly, remembering the night he had put it there. He suspected Zuko had left it there to taunt him. Finding his way to Toph's room, he found she had left it ajar, but after entering and closing the door, he found himself plunged into darkness. Aang's foot immediately fetched up against a piece of low furniture, and he teetered. Toph's feet thumped across the floor as she sprinted across the room to steady him. He crashed into Toph's open arms, but she was barely able to support his lanky frame and stop him from sprawling onto the intricately woven wool rug dawn would reveal to be spread across the floor. Spirits, he's heavy! The man can practically fly—you'd think he would weigh less!

With her arms wrapped around Aang's body, Toph's fingers felt his prominent ribs and the ridges of his spine pressed sharply through the damp silk of his robe. She could feel his heart flutter rapidly against her chest. He shivered violently, though heat poured from his skin. He was getting worse by the minute.

"How many of those darts did you say you were shot with?"

Aang groaned as Toph lowered him onto the rug, unable to go any further. "I didn't say, and I didn't count. Dozens, most likely. Do you know what is in them?"

Toph blotted the sweat from his face with her sleeve before starting to probe across his arms, hands, and neck with her deft fingers, searching out where the poison had deposited. "Katara was right; it's definitely some sort of metal, but I've never seen metal that is liquid without being melted."

"Can you get it out?"

Aang expected Toph to scoff in derision at the thought that there was an ounce of metal she couldn't bend to her will, but she was quiet. He could hear Toph's clothes rustle as she moved, he felt her fingers dart here and there, at wrist, at ankle, inside his elbow, and then dragging up one leg of his trousers to feel behind his knee. She sighed in resignation, and he was surprised at her embarrassment. "Aang?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm going to need to touch you . . . other places too. The metal is just about everywhere."

"I don't think I'm really in any position to object."

"Aang?"

He rolled his eyes in exasperation. "Yeah?"

"I may need to cut you to make a path to get it out."

Aang sighed. "I promise you, it won't be the first or the last time someone cuts me. Katara said to wait to try this when the two of you can work together."

"I knew she would say that, but I want to feel where the metal is so I can figure out how to get it out. I promise, if I need help, I'll get her."

Aang sighed again in resignation. He'd spent most of his life negotiating between his wife's temper and his friend's—there was no point arguing with either of them. He had to trust Toph to know what she was doing.

Toph laid small warm hands over his heart, and he shuddered as her touch seemed to sear into him. After a few minutes, she drew one hand up so that just her fingertips rested on his breastbone before she twisted her wrist and slammed the heel of her hand back down over his heart. Aang grunted at the painful blow that sent a shockwave through his body.

It felt as if millions of tiny hooks had suddenly embedded themselves throughout his flesh. Toph drew her hand back slowly, and the pressure from the hooks increased. Aang felt sharp, bursting sensations throughout his body, like glass beads crushed under the heel of a boot. Still, Toph drew her hand back, slowly, and the pain grew to a roaring crescendo, and now ribbons tore through his flesh as the blood rushed in his ears and the floor beneath him seemed to sway and buck like the deck of a ship during a monsoon. Aang's lungs felt as though they were being squeezed, and he panted at first, but soon choked, unable to breathe.

Toph could feel the elusive liquid metal—it flowed within Aang's veins and was settling into his tissues, not just muscles, but vital organs as well. The more droplets she siphoned together, pulling them bit by bit from throughout his body, the more she realized just how deep and thorough the damage was. Toph feared that if she was unsuccessful in pulling the metal out, Aang may not survive until first light. Aang's body was stretched like a bowstring beneath her fingers, and she could feel him struggling for breath. She wasn't going to be able to pull it all out at once. If she did, the internal damage would be so severe that he would bleed to death within minutes. She knew she had already caused significant damage, just with the probing. Toph sighed in frustration and released her hold on the metal.

Aang groaned in relief when the iron grip on his lungs was withdrawn. "Did you get it out?" he panted.

"Not even close. If I draw it all out at once without healing you as we go, the metal will shred you from the inside out. You'll die in hours if I don't get it out, but if I tear it all out now? You'll die in minutes. Katara must have already realized that was the case. Damn. I hate it when she's right."

Toph's heels thumped as she strode back to his apartment. In the quiet, he could hear the crickets chirping through the buzzing in his ears, and the darkness took on a floating, surreal quality, in which his mind was becoming detached from the sizzling pain in his flesh. He drifted off to sleep for a moment, and the darkness dissolved into a field of stars, warm sand cradling his bruised flesh, and Katara's body pressed against his. A stitch had formed in his side as he panted to try to catch his breath—but it eased as the tide swept up, covering his feet. The warmth of the water was filling his lungs, and the pain was ebbing away . . .

"Aang?" He could hear her voice as though from a long way off. "Aang! We're losing him!"

Toph murmered back, "Not yet—he just drifted off. Get the syrup into him." She turned away to busy herself with a stack of linen strips in a basket.

The sun blazed suddenly and he turned his face away as it stung his eyes. Aang surfaced from his reverie long enough to ask, "Where's Bumi?"

Katara shook her hand, extinguishing the match she had used to light the lamp. "Mai took him. Some fool Earth Bender woke up this entire wing of the palace. By now, he's probably fast asleep between Zuko and Mai."

Aang huffed shallowly with relief, his body now shivering violently and his teeth chattering. Aside from in his or Katara's arms, there was no place safer for Bumi to be than right next to Zuko. He knew Zuko would give his life to protect any of them, willingly.

Katara's eyes travelled over Aang's body with growing alarm that cut through her own exhaustion. "What have you done?"

"He was already like this for the most part." Toph quickly explained the extent of the damage and how the metal had infiltrated deep into Aang's body. "We are going to have to go inch by inch through his entire body. You will have to heal him as I draw out the metal, and when we are done, we should take care of Zuko and Izumi as soon as possible."

Katara drew a small glass vial sealed with wax from her pocket. She held the delicate glass gingerly between her index finger and thumb. Aang saw the fluid roll sluggishly as she swirled it. "What's that?"

Katara bit her lip uncertainly. "Zuko wants you to drink this. It's made from the inside of blood poppies, and he said it would make you sleep and take away pain."

Aang blinked. "I don't need it."

Katara placed a hand on the clammy skin of his thin chest and leaned close. "What we need to do to you . . . it's going to be agony. Neither Toph or I will be able to get through this if you are screaming. We're going to have to rip that metal out of you drop by drop . . ." Katara leaned back on her heels. Her face had crumpled, and her bottom lip trembled.

Aang regarded her with skepticism, "I'd rather use the sky incense."

"Not this time . . ." Katara's eyes filled with tears and a tear slipped down her cheek before she could wipe it away. "We can't take the risk of your soul leaving your body . . . I'm afraid you'll never come back to me."

At this, Toph whipped around and snatched the vial from Katara's hand, ripping the wax seal from the top of the vial. She propped herself up with a hand on either side of Aang's head and hissed at him, her nose pressed to his, brows drown down in fury. "You listen to me, you stubborn little snit. You're going to drink it if I have to sit on your chest and force it down your throat. We aren't discussing this and don't you dare consider leaving us for the Spirit World. I'm not asking you—I'm telling you. Drink it and drink it now!"

Aang looked uneasily between them and took the proffered vial from Toph when she sat back. Toph crossed her arms when he accepted it in a shaking hand.

Katara wrapped her hands around his to guide the vial to his lips. "I know you don't want to—drink it for me love."

Aang sighed and tipped the noxious fluid into his mouth. He gagged at its cloying sweetness as the sticky, gritty syrup coated his tongue and teeth before it crawled grudgingly down his throat. He grimaced. "That's disgusting—what did you say it was?"

Katara answered, "Zuko called it poppy syrup. After the Agni Kai with his father, Zuko was almost driven mad with the pain. When he was awake, it was as though his entire head was wrapped in flame—both eyes had swollen shut, and Iroh had to pry the burned eye open several times a day so that as it healed, it wouldn't seal itself shut. His entire world for weeks was darkness and pain, fear and humiliation. He didn't sleep for several days, and he eventually began to hallucinate. In desperation, Iroh drugged Zuko with poppy syrup in tea to make him sleep. Zuko slept for nearly a week while Iroh travelled under cover of night to find a Water Tribe healer in the Order of the White Lotus who would consent to healing his nephew. Zuko nearly died of infection several times over those early months, and he would certainly have perished without Iroh's love and care."

"Is that why he never sweetens his tea?" Aang asked sleepily.

Katara's voice continued through the soft fog that was wrapping around him, and he closed his eyes. "Mmm hmm. He says it took years for him to be able to distinguish between the flavor of the poppy syrup in his tea and honey—just the taste brings back the memories.

"Zuko said the poppy syrup produces powerful dreams. By the time he finally woke, he thought he had been battling Ozai for days—it's all he dreamt of." Katara smiled sadly and blotted the sweat from her husband's face with a linen towel. "Mai says Zuko still sometimes wakes screaming—sometimes Ozai is killing him . . . other nights he dreams that he must watch Ozai kill you."

"Good job, Katara—now that's all Aang will dream of too."

Katara turned to look at her friend and smiled wistfully. "No, he won't. Zuko is still afraid deep inside that his father was right—that he isn't strong enough to protect his family and lead his nation, that he isn't worthy. Even with his honor restored, Zuko will battle Ozai's cruelty until the day he goes to the spirits.

"Aang is at peace with his ordeal with Ozai." She planted a gentle kiss on his forehead. "He has never been afraid of dying himself—he has died and risen hundreds of times and will continue to die and rise for all of time. His nightmares have been always about failing to save us. This time, we need to save him."