Prompt: Honor

Summary: During his last moments, Iroh regrets that the last words he shared with the love of his life were nothing more than a lie.

More So Than Regret

Out on the battlefield, everything is in slow motion, and time drags to a stop, every second counts. A fallen soldier crumples to his knees, the bullet wedged into his chest. As the blood splatter of his comrade makes contact and burns his eye, General Iroh cries out and rubs his hand over it in an attempt to dim the stinging. It doesn't help, and the two seconds without sight gives an enemy the time to run over to Iroh, with one quick movement, release a ball of flame from his hand, right into his other eye. It burns in pain like he's never felt before.

People say that during your last moments, your life flashes before your eyes. The people you love, the ones you want to remember. The things which are most important to you, the memories worth keeping. The experiences shared, the love you've felt.

A flame to the eye hurts, but letting go of the memories and the people, hurt more.

Iroh realizes that the armed enemy is coming towards him, fast. Clutching his burned eye, he sees the man through a excruciatingly painful red lens. He sees the revolver in his hand too. Iroh fumbles around for his own but only finds his empty holster.

This is it.

A bloody eyed, unarmed general surrounded by the bodies of his comrades at the hand of fifty armed men with no mercy.

He closes his eyes.

If this is what death is, it will be less painful than surrender. At least he'll have gone down fighting. For his honor, for his country, for his family.

For her.

Even if she didn't know it, and never will. He fought for her, but admittedly, not in the right way. He should have fought to be by her side. It will be his greatest regret.

Even during his last moments, he can only think about how their last interaction should have been more than just a lie.

Iroh and Asami love each other to no end, even after thirty years together. Yet, their arguments often become heated, if Iroh even mentions war.

As Iroh's determination and motivation to fight for his country grows, his body becomes weaker and older with age. Unfortunately, so does Asami's patience. They sit at opposite ends of the table, a cup in front of each of them. The contents of both cups have gone cold, yet an air of apprehension hangs between husband and wife. The husband is first to speak.

"We've talked about this too many times…"

"I don't care."

"It's not our decision, it's my decision to make."

"You served for too long on that battlefield, Iroh," Asami says, distress and hurt illustrating her face. "I know you think it's your duty and your honor at stake if you don't, but it's not."

"It's not at stake, it just is. It is my honor, it is my duty to defend our country! Why are you so against that?"

"Let others defend their country too. There are other men who are years younger, and much stronger and faster than you are to fight."

"Those are the ones who run and hide at the sight of a shotgun, Asami."

"For spirits sake, Iroh. It's time to stop."

She's pleading now, but she's also angry. Same fight, different night. Iroh shakes his head and runs his hands through his graying hair.

"I will never turn my back on my country, or my people, if they need me."

Asami chokes up tears of frustration, her hands balled up in fists, but her voice is quivering yet stern.

"You have spent so much of your life out there. When is it time for us, for your family?"

He grits his teeth. She's right, but he's not going to admit that.

"Every time you walk out that door, there is always a part of me scared you might never come back."

"I always will. I'll never leave you."

"You don't know that, Iroh."

"I'll make it happen."

"Well, you know what? Life doesn't always go your way."

They're both standing up and out of their chairs now. Asami's eyes glisten and her voice begins to shake. She swallows and speaks slowly.

"You are being selfish. You are only thinking of yourself."

Iroh balls up his hands.

"How dare you say that. I risk my life for this country!"

"Exactly! And how do you think that makes me feel? That you feel like your honor is worth fighting for, but our marriage and thirty years together isn't?"

"This is more than just honor, Asami—"

"—is it? Then what is it about? Huh?" she's yelling, but crying at the same time. "Is it about your duty? Or your people? Or your country? What good will fighting do for them if you die?"

"They'll know I defended them."

Asami laughs in desperation.

"Defended them? Hah! Half of them would never do that for you, do you know that? They're all cowards. That's why they'll never join you on the battlefield, Iroh!"

For some reason, that statement angers him more than the others. He slams his fists onto the table, immediately startling her. He's almost always the gentlemanly one; Asami is the one who's not afraid to get aggressive. But today, it drives him over the edge.

"If I want to protect my country, I will."

"But you won't care what happens to me if you're gone, will you?"

"That's ridiculous. Of course I would."

"Then you would stay here with me."

"No. I can't."

"Then leave."

This catches him off guard. The thirty years they've been together, those two words have never left her mouth through every fight, every argument, every disagreement, it's never reached that point.

"It's better you do it sooner rather than later." She mutters curtly, silent tears leaking from her eyes.

"I won't leave you like that, Asami. I love you."

"If you love me, you won't go."

He does love her.

"Okay. I'll stay."

She nods slowly.

He takes her to the bedroom after that. As they lie there together on the mattress, she rests her head on his chest, the sheets lying around her torso. They stay like that for a good hour, and a part of Iroh wishes they would never have to move.

"Iroh?"

"Hm?"

"I'm sorry, okay?"

Iroh feels a tear soak through the fabric of his shirt where her head is laying.

"I just don't know what I'd do without you."

The next hour, they spend in silence, as Iroh gently strokes and plays with her hair until she falls asleep. He wishes it could be this way forever.

He does love her.

But he has to do what is right.

So in the dead of night, he slips out of the house beneath the cover of darkness.

The only thing on his mind during his last moments, as a bullet punctures his chest, is what Asami was thinking when she woke up in that bed the next morning, alone.

I'm sorry, Asami.

A/N: Thank you for reading all the stuff I write on my iPod when I can't sleep at night this past week, you've been so awesome.