Convergence
by Melospiza
A/N: This was actually done a couple months ago, but I hadn't intended to put this up here because (even after "Swimming") I don't think I write Toph that well and Iroh is difficult to write, too. It was done as a gift for someone, but enough people seemed to like it that I thought it could be enjoyed here, too.
As the sky was stained with the bloody hues of the setting sun and the lamplighters, on their rounds, dotted shadowed streets with flickers of light, a barefoot girl stepped off of the pavement on a street in the outermost circle of Ba Sing Se. She was unescorted, she was small, and she was dressed in fabric finer than that usually seen in this part of the city. If she seemed out of breath, it was because a handful of young men had taken note of those facts and had approached with the intent of relieving her of whatever she had in her pockets. They had learned quickly that this wasn't a very good idea, and witnesses had spread the word quickly, so she made the rest of her way to her destination with no further trouble.
Standing beneath the lintel of a small teahouse, she paused as if to read the placard hanging on the door and then, despite the message clearly stating that the establishment had closed early, pushed open the door and stepped inside. On the other side of the room, an elderly gentleman was busy gathering and stacking the dishes from one of many small, tidy tables, his apron straining across his rotund belly, the damp cloth tucked beneath the apron's string staining his dark shirt.
"Excuse me," said the girl, tapping her foot.
"I apologize, miss, but we're-" His voice stilled as he turned toward her.
"You're closed?" the girl asked. "I'm sorry, but I heard you had the best tea in the city, and I came all this way..."
"Of course," said the man. "Please sit down."
The girl stepped forward and, despite the misty white film that clouded the deep green hue of her eyes, found her way unerringly to one of the low tables and sat. She sat very still and listened to the man puttering around in the kitchen until he came to the table with a fresh pot of tea. He filled a clean cup and set it before her, then poured a second cup before settling into the seat on the opposite side of the table.
The girl inhaled the aroma of the tea and took a sip before speaking carefully, "I'm glad to see you're feeling better."
"I'm glad to be feeling better," he replied amiably.
"How is your nephew?"
"He's good! He actually has a date tonight." The old man chuckled.
"Oh really? That's kind of surprising."
"I was a little surprised myself. But he has been out with this girl before, and he seems to be enjoying her company."
For a few moments, a companionable silence fell between them in which they both sipped their tea, the man looking at the girl, the girl looking at nothing in particular.
"Are you wearing makeup?" the man finally asked.
The girl's porcelain cheeks turned slightly pink, and she set the cup down so hard that tea sloshed over its edge. "So what if I am? Do I look stupid or something?"
"No, no, not at all," the man replied quickly. "It's just... that's surprising, too."
"I guess it's a good week for trying new things," the girl muttered, seeming mollified.
"Every week is a good week for trying new things. But it helps to be somewhere safe when you decide to do so," the man said.
"I wouldn't exactly call Ba Sing Se safe."
Sipping his tea, the man was quiet for a moment. Then he replied, "I will not agree or disagree, I will only say that you might not want to speak such thoughts so loudly."
Silence fell for a second time. He drank his tea, and she drank hers, but when he lifted the pot to refill her cup, the girl held out her hand to stop him.
"I really ought to get back to my friends. They get a little antsy when I'm gone for too long." From her tone of voice, her friends were not the "they" she spoke of.
As she started to rise to her feet, he hastened to rise before her, exhaling a puff of air from the exertion.
"Wait. Let me give you something to take to your friends."
The girl stood and scratched her arm while he retreated back into the kitchen. When he emerged, he was carrying a woven basket, the handle of which he pressed into her small hand.
"A mooncake," he said.
She smiled. "Thank you."
As she started to slip out the door, he called after her, "Will you visit again?"
"Sure," she replied. "I have to bring the basket back, right?"
When the door closed, he remained standing in the center of the teahouse, staring at the portal with a bemused expression on his face. Finally turning back to his work, he hummed quietly to himself, "I suppose it's true what they say: all roads lead to Ba Sing Se."