DISCLAIMER: All recognizable material belongs to Bryke, not me.

A/N: I wrote this two years ago, when I got into the A: TLA fandom for the first time (online at least; I've been watching this show since I was ten). I lost it several times, had to rewrite it over and over… hence it probably isn't as good as the original version, but on the other hand I have more grammar skills now than I did two years ago. By the time I finally got around to rewriting this again, it was Zutara Week, so I labeled it under Day 6: Faded. It wasn't originally written for Zutara Week, though.

Anyways. I'll shut up.

The Fire Lord woke abruptly, chills running down his spine. He felt a knot in his stomach, feeling that something wasn't right, and instinctively reached out for his wife. Not finding her there, his hand groped at the sheets, freezing when he felt something wet and warm staining the bed. Zuko bolted upright and lit a fire in his other palm for light, holding it above his wet hand and the sheets.

It was blood.

Frantically he jumped out of bed, slipping on a small puddle on the floor. He haphazardly tossed a flame at the lanterns mounted on the walls and saw a thin trail of the offending liquid leading towards the washroom adjunct to the royal bedchamber. The man followed it, careful to avoid stepping in it. He grabbed the doorknob and nearly broke it in his fist trying to open it. Someone had locked it.

"Katara?" he called through the door, pressing his ear against the wood to hear his wife's muffled sobbing. "Katara!"

"Go away, Zuko," she cried from the washroom.

Zuko ran a hand through his hair, worried. What the hell was wrong? Why wouldn't she let him in?

He had to do something. He couldn't just stand there and wait for her to unlock the door. But he felt so helpless.

His answer came when he heard a voice behind him. It was Pan, most trusted of the Fire Nation Royal Guard and personal bodyguard to Fire Lord Zuko. "Are you all right, your excellency? I heard you yell," she told him.

"It's none of your concern," he replied harshly, his anxiety getting the better of him. "I need you to fetch Zho Li and Ruki and have them help you carry the bed out to the plaza to burn it. And wake one of the maids; the floor needs mopping."

The woman made an odd face at his request, but quickly schooled her features and bowed. "Right away, sir."

As soon as she was gone, he returned to his spot in front of the door, pacing nervously, running his hand through his hair repeatedly. This was a little more difficult to do now that his hair had gotten long - it reached a little past his shoulders now - but nevertheless he retained this habit from his teenaged years.

Eventually he stopped, sitting in front of the door with an expression that bespoke his determination to wait for his wife. Pan, Zho Li and Ruki moved in and out of the room as quickly and quietly as they could while moving a heavy object. Once they left, all was silent.

After what felt like hours, he heard a small click as Katara unlocked the handle, and he quickly leaned forward so as not to fall back as the door opened.

He looked up at her face, red from sobbing, shining from sweat. Before he could move to stand up, she was sinking into his lap, her arms around his neck, face buried in his shoulder. Automatically his strong arms wrapped around her; he kissed her forehead and rocked her, letting her finish crying.

When her tears finally subsided, Katara pulled back from him just enough to look at his face. "Zuko," she whispered.

His heart broke at the deadness in her voice. "What, honey? Tell me what happened."

She closed her eyes tightly, lips pursing, as if trying to fight something back. Katara sucked in a shaky breath in a halfhearted attempt at calming herself. She wasn't sure she could say it out loud without falling to pieces all over again, but she had to try. And even is she broke down, her husband would be there to pick her back up. She opened her teary eyes and looked up at him hopelessly.

"I lost the baby."

Fire Lord Zuko's mind drifted, as it had been doing all week, towards his wife, who hadn't gotten out of bed once since she'd miscarried. Katara was fading away before his eyes, and it was extremely disheartening and depressing to watch.

Katara wanted a child almost more than she wanted life itself. She and Zuko had been married nearly five years now - she 26 and he 28. They'd been quite… active throughout all that time, yet not once had they been able to conceive. That is, until five months ago.

Katara had nearly burst with the news. She'd practically run from the physician's quarters and barged into the council room, unabashedly interrupting a Very Important Meeting. Zuko saw the twinkle in her eyes, and thinking back on it, he was surprised that she hadn't just told every nobleman there that the Fire Nation was expecting an heir. But somehow, she managed to keep herself just composed enough to tell Zuko to wrap up the meeting in the next two minutes. The look on her face warned him that it was not merely a request. She'd excitedly told him the news the moment they were alone, and Zuko found himself enthusiastically attending to some husbandly duties that night. The smile on her face hadn't left once since then; he'd literally never seen her so happy.

And now her pregnancy had violently been taken from her.

Zuko himself was feeling a bit depressed; he had really wanted to become a fatherlord. Secretly, he'd harbored some fears of turning out like Ozai, but he still had his uncle around to guide him, and his wife would never let him start down that road. So he'd pushed aside his anxiety and let himself feel nothing but excited anticipation for his son or daughter.

Frowning, Fire Lord Zuko stood and cleared his throat. Whoever had been talking quickly closed his mouth.

"I'm sorry to interrupt, gentlemen, but I am adjourning this meeting for now. I have some very pressing family matters I need to take care of."

They hadn't publicly announced Katara's miscarriage yet, but whispers (some wildly out of line, others very close to the actual truth) were flying once people realized that their Fire Lady hadn't been seen in days. The men guessed what Zuko meant and wordlessly excused themselves.

Zuko slipped out of the empty room and down the corridor, going up a flight of stairs to the room they had relocated to (the room his mother had moved into when she and Ozai began having problems, so many years ago). As he expected, Katara was curled up in a ball under the blankets, an untouched glass of water by her side. He knew her well enough to tell that she wasn't asleep, even with her back turned to him.

Slowly he undressed, pulling out his topknot and letting his dark hair fall around his shoulders, his thick and pompous robes sliding off and being placed in his closet where they belonged. He crossed the room and sat on the bed, leaning over to rub circles in his wife's back. After a few minutes, he untangled her legs from the covers and crawled in beside her, pulling the blanket up around them both. Zuko gently grabbed her waist and pulled her in so her back was flush against his chest, his arms winding around her. He could already feel the physical effects of her depression manifesting; she needed to start eating again.

They hadn't spoken since that night. Katara hadn't said a word at all; Zuko just hadn't known what to say to her. They were five years into their marriage, and he knew he still had a lot to learn, but he was beginning to feel like a failure. His wife needed him, even if he didn't know the perfect words to make it go away. The least he could do was hold her.

"I'm so sorry, honey," he whispered. "I wish there was something I could do."

Shockingly, Zuko got a response. A delayed reaction, sure, but this was miles ahead of the dying woman his wife had become.

Katara stroked his arm. "It's not your fault," she rasped, her voice hoarse from disuse. He felt her tense. "I just… it's not fair. I don't know what I did to deserve this. I want a child so badly, Zuko…"

He hugged her tighter to him. "Listen to me, Katara. You haven't done anything wrong. It is not your fault," he echoed. "I know it turned out badly. I know this is painful. But at least now we know that it isn't impossible. We know now that we can have a baby. It might be hard, but maybe we just have to keep trying."

She rolled over to face him, her face downtrodden. "I don't know if I can go through this again."

Zuko took her face in his hands and looked her in the eye. "You will get through this. You will survive because you are Katara and you are strong and you are brave and you can get through anything. I once watched you walk away from an opportunity to get rid of the man who took your mother and your childhood from you. You survived that, and you can make it through this. You are Katara. You are the strongest woman I have ever known. I have faith in you."

Her eyes watered at his words, and he leaned in to kiss her before her tears could spill over. She was unresponsive at first, and he sighed, starting to pull away. Before he cold completely separate them, Katara suddenly pulled him tight, filled with longing and pure, unadulterated need. Soon the kiss evolved into something more, and Katara's nightdress quickly found itself on the floor.

"Do you want to try again, then?" he asked breathlessly, unsure if this was what she really wanted. He felt like he was taking advantage of her.

Katara nodded firmly, feeling more sure about this than she would have thought even just an hour ago. She needed her husband to love her, to make her feel alive again. And she needed them to try again. She couldn't give up. "Please, Zuko," she murmured.

And with that, there were no more words between them.