The morning sickness is new.

Toph's never felt so nauseated in her life before; not even while flying on that big smelly bison, or when she was travelling on a wooden junk to the South Pole. But this is nearly constant, dragging her down, stopping her from thinking properly. For the last two weeks, she'd had to get up at 5 a.m. to run to the toilet and vomit. She'd also been forced to take maternity leave early – there was no way she could act as Chief of Police in her sorry state ( though, she supposes, it would have been an amusing sight, seeing her throw up on a criminal mid-fight ). Even medicine and herbs hadn't helped; she'd vomited the medicine out along with her food.

Tick. Tock.

Time seems to crawl by, and the clock on the walls of the sitting room only serves to taunt her. It's barely been an hour since Zuko's departure, and already, she acutely feels his absence like a well-placed punch to the gut.

Zuko hadn't wanted to leave her, not after seeing her ravaged by morning sickness and how much she was suffering. But she'd lied through her teeth that she was fine, had practically bullied him into going back to the Fire Nation to take care of his affairs.

She would join him once she was feeling well enough to travel.

She crawls onto the sofa, putting her feet up on the arm. All by themselves, her eyelids drift shut. In a few seconds . . . Or minutes . . . Or hours, she'll force herself to her feet, and into the kitchen to ingest some solid food for the sake of the new life depending on her to nourish it, and force herself to keep it down.

The doorbell rings.

Zuko? Fresh hope blooms in her chest. But then she remembers that he has keys, and with a sigh, drags every aching cell to answer the door.

Belatedly, she realizes who it is. She must be getting soft. Either that, or she's delirious. Personally, Toph's leaning towards the former. She's never taken so long to identify someone's footsteps before.

"Wha – "

"Hello, Toph."

Clapping a hand to her mouth, Toph bolts for the kitchen. She doesn't think she'll make it to the bathroom. She only just makes it in time before she vomits her breakfast into the sink in a violent and noisy gush. She retches again, and again.

"Breathe, Toph." Ursa says, honey-toned as always. Her fingers gather Toph's matted hair up and away from her face, and out of the range of any vomit. "That's it."

Toph mumbles something unintelligible, but then has to retch again. There's nothing left of her breakfast, but her stomach doesn't seem to care. Ursa presses a handkerchief into Toph's hand; she takes it and wipes her mouth.

The sickness is abating a little bit. Toph hears a running tap as Ursa, presumably, cleans up what's in the sink. Grateful, Toph lets herself dissolve into a boneless heap on the kitchen floor. Next, a cold glass is pressed into her hand.

"Water will make you feel better."

"Thanks." Her throat is raw. "What are you doing here?"

"Drink first. I'll explain later."

Toph takes a long drink and pulls herself together enough to stand up. She still feels nauseated, but it's a dull sinking feeling and she thinks that the worst of it has passed. Her stomach no longer churns like a boat on a stormy sea, and she doesn't think that she heave on the former Fire Lady.

"So what are you doing here?"

"You're weak, you're not eating, you're not sleeping well," Ursa's tone is matter-of-fact as she lists down the sources of her daughter-in-law's misery. "Am I supposed to stand by while my child is suffering?"

She hasn't been anyone's child in a long time, not since her parents had very publicly disowned her. She'd swallowed down her pride, had tentatively tried to reach out to her parents so that her child could get to know their grandparents, but all her attempts had been coldly brushed aside, and she'd stopped altogether.

Now, caught off guard, Toph blinks.

"How did you –"

"I remember how hard it was for me when I carried my own children. My body nearly gave out on me, too." There's a note of wistful nostalgia in her voice, though for the life of her, Toph can't fathom why anyone would want to put themselves through that hell all over again. "Please, sit, Toph. Before you fall and hurt yourself."

Underneath the sweetness of honey, there's a commanding note of steel. Toph slowly maneuvers herself over to the sofa, and sits.

There's the rustle of plastic bags being set down, and then silence. Toph wonders if Ursa is looking around their flat, chaotic and jumbled, a far cry from their luxurious chambers in the palace. If she finds the whole place lacking, she doesn't comment on it.

Toph already knows the layout of her apartment, how it must look to outsiders. The door opens straight into the front room. A sofa and chair have been squeezed into the limited space, and Zuko's books and papers line the walls, stacked in piles along the skirting boards.

Ursa patters about the kitchen with a light-footed grace. Cupboards open and close, there's the clang of metal as pots and pans are shifted about and taken down. "For now, let's get some food in you."

Just the thought of eating makes Toph's stomach turn. She presses a hand to her mouth, praying that she won't throw up again. She's just about had enough of it. "Uh, sorry to burst your bubble, but I don't think I can — "

"Just trust me," Ursa advises. "We'll start you with something light."

Half an hour later, Ursa returns to Toph – egg congee from the smell of it. Toph lifts the bowl up to her face and breathes in the steam. It feels cleansing.

Ursa waits expectantly. Toph lifts the porcelain spoon to her mouth in a hesitant first bite and finds herself feeling comforted rather than repulsed. Relieved, she takes another, bigger bite.

"There's more where that came from," Ursa tells her, sounding almost satisfied as she watches Toph eat. "But we'll start you off small. We'll wait an hour. If you can keep it down, you can have another bowl. And tomorrow you can try something heavier. Is there anything you've been craving?"

"Now that you mention it, I have been craving stewed sea prunes for some reason," Toph admits on another bite. "Thanks for coming over. This is the best I've felt in a while."

"I'll stay until your husband returns. Of course, I'll have to tell him off for leaving you in such a sorry state." Ursa's tone implies that Zuko is in for an admonishment. "Honestly, what was he thinking?"

"It's not his fault." Toph says, her congee halfway to her mouth. "I told him to go."

She can feel Ursa's surprise. "Why on earth would you do that?"

Sighing, Toph sets the bowl down on the coffee table. She's only been able to eat a little more than half of it, but it's still progress. "I don't know. It's just . . . I've always done that. Even as a kid."

"There's nothing wrong with letting others help you," Ursa says, with a shake of her head. "You should rest. And tomorrow, I'll get the palace acupressure therapist to take a trip down here."

"You really don't have to —"

"Yes, I do," She's unmovable, uncompromising. Toph thinks that she would have made a fine earthbender. "I'm your mother. Now, why don't you take a nap? Some rest will do you a world of good."

"Alright. Thanks."

She sleeps well for the first time in weeks.

A/N: I thought it would be nice to see Toph and Ursa interacting, and hence, this was born. Please leave a review!