Archive of Our Own ^beta

They were having dinner at the Beifong estate. Not the regular Beifong estate where Toph’s parents lived, but the much bigger one she built right next door when she was about twenty, entirely through her own earthbending. It was almost identical, but scaled twice in size, each finely-crafted wooden flourish or decorative paneling recreated perfectly out of stone or metal, more delicate than anything she’d ever created before.

She had been showing off. At that time she had been mending the relationship with her parents, and in her first visit home in years, her mother had entreated her to think of the family. “Marry a rich man,” she urged her daughter, holding Toph’s hand. “Have babies!”

Toph had let out a bark of laughter. “Mom, I am a rich man.”

To prove it, she’d paid off three of their neighbors for their land and put together her new estate in less than a day. By the end of it there was still a patch of broken wood and fancy porcelain she’d discarded in a corner of the garden, but when Aang pointed it out she’d said, “What do I care? I can’t see it.”

Sometime in the intervening ten years she had in fact cleared out the garden, and hired a few very expensive gardeners who used to work for the Earth King to maintain the topiary. She couldn’t see it, but she made sure they were all tall enough to look over the walls of the adjoining Beifong estate, taunting her parents. Sokka and Suki had been visiting when she explained to one gardener, very seriously, “How many times do I have to go over this with you? I want a badgermole, but with huge tits. And made sure it’s facing my parents’ dining room window.”

The poor gardener winced as he was forced to ask, “H-human breasts, Master Beifong?”

“What’s not clicking here?” asked Sokka, rapping the guy’s skull with his knuckles. “The lady wants a big-titty badgermole. She’s being pretty clear.”

Thoughtfully, Suki asked, “Don’t badgermoles have, like, six teats?”

Toph’s face lit up in delight.

The next time Aang and Katara visited, Katara’s jaw dropped and Aang said, “Oh…that’s… very creative!”

Despite her judgment of Toph’s decorative taste, it was Katara Toph asked to join her as she hosted her Metalbending Academy’s first Earth Rumble. “Why are you only allowing students who’ve already graduated to join?” asked Katara, observing the thickly-muscled earthbenders warming up. “You were twelve when you debuted as the Blind Bandit.”

“Actually, I was ten-and-a-half,” Toph corrected. “I was a vet by the time you guys met me. Besides, we’ll do a junior tournament later - for this one, everyone’s gotta be of legal age.”

This was very suspicious. “Legal age for what?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Toph said dismissively. “Hey Katara, which ones of these guys are the tallest?”

It was a strange request, but Toph rarely asked for help when it came to things she couldn’t see perfectly with her feet, so Katara obliged. She listed off a few of the tallest, including a very Kyoshi-like woman who towered above most of the men, but Toph cut her off.

“Nope,” she said. “Only the men.”

“I don’t like where this is going,” said Katara.

“Don’t be a baby,” Toph said, punching her in the shoulder. “It’s fine. I’ll just close my eyes and think of the Earth Kingdom.”

“Toph! ”

She cocked her head. “I guess I don’t even have to close my eyes.”

The great earthbending master Toph Beifong was, of course, exclusively interested in women - though Katara had never seen any relationship of hers last more than a few months. Toph just seemed to get bored easily, always looking for a new challenge. At least that was how she explained it to Aang and Katara later, while Bumi played in the garden. (Thankfully, she’d fired the topiary artist a while ago, so the badgermole just looked like a shapeless clump of bushes.) While Katara nursed Kya, still an infant, Toph announced to them that it was time to try the greatest challenge of all. Child-bending.

“It’s called parenting, Toph,” Katara said.

“I like child-bending,” Aang chirped, his chin on his hands. “It’s kind of accurate! Raising a kid is a lot like bending: you have to be careful, but firm, but also flexible, and most of all, you have to be confident and trust that things are going to land where they should.”

“Bumi,” called Katara, leaning past Toph to catch her son looking up innocently, hiding his hands behind his back. “We don’t eat dirt, remember?”

Toph raised her voice to add, “Don’t listen to her, kid! It’s good for you!” Then she dramatically dabbed at her dry eyes and said, “Look at him. Now that’s a kid after my own heart.”

Later that year, after Katara pressed her hands, bathed in glowing water, to Toph’s abdomen and confirmed there was a little heartbeat fluttering away in there, Toph bellowed, “Who’s the greatest babybender in the world! One-and-done, baby! ” 

Lin was born in autumn, at the Metalbending Academy in Yu Dao. Traditionally, firstborn Beifong children were named from a list of ancestral names going back generations. Sokka read half the names from the list - all Laos and Lis and Lus - before he realized, “Oh, sorry, these are boy names,” to which Toph, who had stopped listening ten minutes ago, perked up and asked, “What was that last one?”

So: Lin Beifong. Toph’s parents had no problems with the child retaining their family name, but they did openly and repeatedly wonder about her father. “He died in the war,” she told them grimly.

Poppy pursed her lips, and Lao reminded Toph, “The war ended sixteen years ago, darling.”

So here they were, three years later, having dinner together in Toph’s huge dining room. Fire Lord Zuko had wanted to come, but at the last minute there was some kind of diplomatic crisis with the agricultural allotments scattered along the Fire Nation’s northern islands, so he sent his regrets. And a court painting they’d recently had done of Zuko, Mai, and their eight-year-old daughter, Izumi.

“Why did he send this?” asked Toph, holding it in her hands and grinning dopily. “He’s so stupid. I don’t even know what he looks like.”

But she said it with fondness, and they placed it before the empty seat at the head of the table, across from Toph. Bumi was a real person being by then, twelve years old and by far the coolest kid Toph knew, including her own kid, three-year-old Lin who was already beginning to test the limits of her mother’s blindness by sneaking around quietly, gasping with laughter every time Toph pounced on her anyway, squeezing her tightly. So Bumi sat at Toph’s right hand, inhaling dumplings, while Kya and Lin chased each other around the table. Sokka was at her other side, Suki beside him, and Aang and Katara next to their eldest, Aang bouncing baby Tenzin up and down on his knee. 

Katara was inspecting the royal portrait, a little misty-eyed despite herself. She nudged Aang, then asked, “Izumi looks so much like Azula, doesn’t she?”

“All the best kids look like their aunties or uncles,” Sokka said, then he reached over the table to fist-bump Bumi.

Mouth full, Bumi asked, “Uncle, did you try the dumplings? They’re so good.”

“They’re good because they have meat in them,” Sokka replied, matter-of-factly. “Most people eat this kind of stuff regularly, Bumi, your dad just tortures you because he loves animals more than he loves you.”

Aang said, “That’s not true,” and then to Bumi, he said, “I love you just as much as I love animals. A little more even, and you know how much I love animals.”

Toph kicked her disgusting bare feet up on the table and laughed. “Most people do not eat like this regularly. Case in point, Water Tribe food is horrible.”

“It’s fine,” said Suki, in a half-hearted defense. “It’s…y’know, a little limited, but it’s fine.”

Sokka and Katara got that shit constantly from their friends. “Oh, sorry,” said Katara, sarcastically. “We can’t all have fields full of every type of fruit and vegetable on the planet. Some of us grew up with real weather.”

“Constant snowpack is not weather,” said Toph, “and the fact that your people still live there is evidence that earthbenders are not the most stubborn people in the world.”

As usual, this devolved into affectionate bickering, and it was only because Bumi had inherited Aang’s ability to fall asleep anywhere at any time that he wound up dozing off in his seat, stuffed to the limit with rolls and dumplings and noodles and soups of all kinds.

“Hey,” said Toph, picking at her teeth with her pinkie fingernail. Kya and Lin had tired themselves out, and were currently laying on the floor under the table, picking through a plate of lettuce wraps. “So. I’ve been thinking about something, and I need your guyses opinion on it.”

“I love it when you say stuff like that,” said Sokka, grinning at her. “It could be literally anything. Is it time for Lin to join her first Earth Rumble? Probably not, but I could be swayed. Do you think Zuko would get mad if you metalbent his crown into saying ‘loser’ or something? Absolutely, but it would be worth it. Could you kick a spirit’s ass?”

He gestured at the rest of the group, and Aang and Suki chorused “Yes!” while Katara sighed loudly.

Toph grinned. Without her feet on the ground, she couldn’t actually feel Kya and her daughter under the table, but Lin had picked up little unconscious habits, like how her feet occasionally brushed against the leg of the chair Toph was sitting on, letting her mother know she was there. Despite herself and her self-assurance that she was of course, the best mother who’d ever lived, she didn’t know how such a tiny little girl was already managing to look after her mom more than her own parents ever did. Each time Lin’s little toes struck the chair leg, it felt like a physical touch, reminding Toph, hello, I’m here, I love you.

“I want another baby,” Toph declared.

Everyone’s eyebrows went up. Then Suki said, “Oh, Toph, that’s so exciting! Lin is the perfect age for a little brother or sister!”

“Every age is the perfect age for a little brother or sister,” Aang added, with a pointed look at his sleeping son, who had been an only child until he was eight.

“You can’t do the whole tournament thing again,” said Katara, leaning her elbows onto the table. “Everyone knows what the prize was last time, so you’re gonna get way more creeps.”

“First of all,” Toph began, “who cares if they’re creeps as long as they’re good at bending,” (Aang interjected, “Me, I care, that’s horrible,”) “-and second of all, I’ve been thinking a lot about how it all worked out last time. Like, all for the best,” she added, because yeah, Lin fucking rules, “but…”

She trailed off, searching for the words. She had never been good at emotional stuff, and that burning desire to have kids of her own still felt so strange on her, like wearing someone else’s clothes. She didn’t have a maternal bone in her body, and yet she could listen to Lin all day long. Playing by herself, running around on the furniture to try and fool her mom, digging pits in the garden with baby’s first earthbending. It was like watching some precious, rare wild animal, one that might vanish from sight at any moment.

By nature, Toph was a loud woman, always shouting and making a racket with earth and metal wherever she went. Lin was starting to go quiet, fading into her mother’s background noise. For reasons Toph didn’t quite understand, that frightened her.

She slipped off her chair, and joined her daughter underneath the table. “Hi, Mama,” babbled Lin.

To her friends still seated at the table, Toph said: “I don’t want her to be lonely.”

The rest of them looked at each other for a moment, and then they, too, slid off their seats, joining Toph and the girls under the table. The tabletop was fairly high, but everyone except Toph was awkwardly stooped; Aang, who had shot up like a reed as soon as he hit sixteen and barely stopped growing by thirty, had to flop down on his stomach to properly fit, airbending Tenzin to lay along the curve of his back. Following her father’s example, Kya flopped down across her mother’s lap, and Katara smiled down at her, brushing her fingers through her hair.

Gently, Katara asked Toph, “You know she’s never going to be lonely, right? All of us are her family too, and we wouldn’t let that happen.”

“Yeah,” agreed Aang, nodding his head. “I know we’re in and out a lot, but - Katara and I have been talking about settling down, at least to have a home base.” He paused, and Katara could see him listening for their eldest son’s rhythmic breathing, making sure he was still asleep, then he added, “Bumi needs somewhere where we’re not always focused on some political or spiritual crisis, or taking care of the little ones. We were thinking the former colonies, so we’d be close to you at the academy.”

With a mischievous grin, Suki asked, “Not the Air Temples?”

Aang groaned and dropped his face onto the floor. Katara returned the grin, but just for a flash. “We’re still working out the kinks with the Air Acolytes. Some of them got into it with Teo at the Northern Air Temple, and we, uh…had to ask them to leave.”

“And,” said Aang emphatically, because this was the far greater offense: “They made Bumi cry.”

Sokka’s head jerked up so sharply he banged into the top of the table. Massaging his head, he asked, “What? Who? Suki and I’ll kick their asses.”

“No need,” said Katara. “Aang already talked to them.”

Again, Aang’s forehead hit the ground with another groan. “Wow, baldy,” said Toph, impressed. “I guess the whole pacifism thing only really works up until the minute someone bullies your kid.”

Suki punched Toph in the shoulder. “So,” she said, getting back to what Toph had been saying. “You don’t have anything to worry about. Lin will always have us.”

“Right,” said Toph. “Here’s the thing.” Lin’s little fist wandered to Toph’s hand, pressing her fingers against her mother’s palm like she was spelling out some secret message. “Katara, you’re right, the whole tournament thing is completely played out. Besides…” Against Lin’s hand, Toph returned the touch into her palm, replying to her message. “Kids get curious. It’s not like I wanted what’s-his-name to stick around, trust me, he was annoying, anyway - but I guess what I’m saying is, this time around it’s got to be someone who’ll give a kid a hug when she needs it. You know? Bare minimum dad stuff. Ugh,” she said, sticking her tongue out in disgust. “So gross. Dad stuff. Cool uncle type stuff. Not around all the time, but if the kids ask me a question, I want to be able to give an answer. Does that make sense?”

There was a beat of silence under the table. Katara frowned at Toph, as if slowly piecing all of her words together.

“Huh,” said Sokka.

“Hm,” said Aang.

A little bit in awe, Suki asked, “Did you really want Zuko here? Were you really going to ask the Fire Lord to be your baby daddy?”

“Oh, no,” said Toph, waving this away. “No, I just wanted to freak him out. Besides, I’m not running the risk of passing down firebender genes.”

“This is crazy,” said Katara. “Toph, that’s crazy.”

“I mean,” Toph shrugged, “I wasn’t asking you.”

Aang sat up on his elbows. “You are kind of asking her. This is turning into a real group decision.”

There was another beat of silence where no one knew exactly what to say. For half a second, it teetered on the very cliff’s edge of awkward, and then Sokka, as usual, whipped out a knife to cut right through it.

“Well,” he began, pointedly. “Should one of us volunteer, or did you want Aang and I to fight to the death for the honor? Because, I’ve gotta be honest, I don’t love the idea of murdering my brother-in-law.”

“Yeah,” agreed Aang, nodding his head. “And I don’t have it in me to kill Sokka, so he would definitely murder me.”

The tension cracked. All five of them laughed, and so did Lin and Kya, who were both draped across their mothers’ laps. “No, no,” sighed Toph. “Listen, I just need someone to tell me if I’m being completely insane. You know how it is with kids, you wind up with tunnel vision. Or, whatever,” she added, waving a hand in front of her eyes. “It’s stupid, right?”

Toph didn’t seem to notice, but Sokka had reached out and taken Suki’s hand when she said the thing about tunnel vision. You wouldn’t have been able to tell from the steadiness in Suki’s voice. “It’s not stupid,” she said. “I think it’s sweet.”

“I think it is too,” said Aang, considering this. “But you should think this through, Toph. Without two earthbender parents, you never know if the kid will wind up an earthbender as well. Which is fine, obviously,” he said, earnestly. “But if earthbending is part of what’s important to you, then are you willing to run that risk?”

Toph wrapped her arms protectively around Lin’s pudgy belly. “Are you saying I wouldn’t love my kid if they weren’t an earthbender?”

“No,” said Aang firmly. Katara was almost impressed with how he stood his ground against his old earthbending teacher. “Of course not. But having kids isn’t just about you and what you want. You have to think about their life, and the things they’re going to inherit from you. They pick up on things, whether you mean for them to or not. So just - before you make any decisions, consider what it would be like to be your child, and not be an earthbender.”

“Wow,” said Sokka. “Wise words from the teen dad.”

Aang had been just shy of twenty years old when Bumi came along, an unexpected but welcome addition to the family. Katara jumped in, addressing her brother. “That’s exactly what he’s saying,” she said. “We were young, we didn’t know what we were doing. You can give your children all the love in the world, and they still pick up on the things you think you’ve hidden from them so well.”

Toph tapped on the ground, catching Aang’s attention. She nodded towards the single chair which remained occupied. Bumi’s slow, rhythmic breathing had returned to normal.

The jig was up. Theatrically jerking awake in his chair, Bumi made a snuffling snorting sound as if waking up, and then, loudly, asked, “Hey, where’d everybody go?”

It only took a glance from Aang for Sokka to reach out and scoop baby Tenzin up off of his back, and then with remarkable grace for such a tall, gangly man, Aang extracted himself from underneath the table and bodily picked Bumi up sidelong, tossing him over his shoulder. Bumi shouted in delight, pounding his fists on his father’s back. “That was pretty slick,” he admitted, marching out the door. “This is why Zuko keeps saying you’d make such a good spy.”

It was not idle praise: Bumi had been part of every top-secret diplomatic meeting with the Avatar since before he could talk, when Aang used to carry him around on his back in a sling. Bumi had an uncanny ability to be seen-without-being-seen. You see him running around behind the Avatar and you think, Oh, that’s just Bumi, and then that night while riding to the next city on Appa’s back, Bumi would ask, Dad? Is it true the Earth King is gonna close the western ports if Uncle Zuko doesn’t move forward with elections in Yu Dao?

When Aang told him this, Zuko looked at Aang like he was crazy. He’s eleven.

I know it’s been a while, said Aang, but we weren’t much older than him when we saved the world.

Which of course sent Zuko absolutely spiraling. Aging was a strange and alarming thing, especially as Izumi started to bloom into a person of her own, creeping ever closer to thirteen, threatening Zuko with a sense memory he still struggled to talk about.

Later that night, Aang and Katara politely refused the rooms Toph offered them, choosing instead to cuddle with the kids in Appa’s fur. It was a beautiful full moon, and Katara held her daughter - who had only just started to learn how to control her waterbending - and breathed in its power.

Lin was exhausted from playing, so it didn’t take long for Toph to get her down. When she emerged into the sitting room, she could feel Sokka and Suki stop and look around at her, and hear the murmured edges of their conversation wisp into the air.

“So,” said Toph. “I can’t see your faces, but I assume this is what people mean when they talk about the whole, We saw you across the bar and liked your vibe …”

“Um, excuse me,” said Sokka, as Toph fetched a bottle of plum wine off the shelf, running her fingers across the embossing to confirm it was the one she wanted. “I believe you’re the one who was propositioning us.”

She poured three glasses, downed each of them on her own, and then refilled two, handing them to Sokka and Suki. “Actually, just one of you,” she said. “Sorry Suki.”

“I can’t believe this,” pouted Suki. “Twenty years surrounded by constant dyke drama and you still make a pass at my husband, not me.”

Toph refilled her glass, then offered it to the two of them, who clinked their glasses against hers. “I mean,” she said, with a shrug. “I haven’t figured out the logistics just yet, but hey, you’re welcome to join.”

All three of them laughed quietly, fondly. They sipped their wine.

Then Sokka said: “So it’s not going to be Aang, obviously.”

“Probably not,” agreed Toph. “And he’s got a point about the whole bending thing, but then again, this is me we’re talking about. Greatest babybender in the world and all that.”

Neither Sokka nor Suki said anything, but Toph heard a slight shift, like Sokka taking his wife’s hand. Nobody laughed this time.

Another small, shifting movement, like Suki taking her hand away. “I meant what I said before,” said Suki, and Toph could tell she was speaking directly to her. “It’s so sweet, Toph, it’s really not like you.”

Toph shrugged. “I’m goin’ soft in my old age.”

“You’re thirty,” said Sokka.

“Wrong, motherfucker. I’m thirty-one.”

Sometimes she could make Sokka laugh with just the sudden cursing alone, but maybe after all these years he’d finally gotten used to it. As if he hadn’t even heard her, Sokka suddenly began, “If - if - this were to…be a thing. I’m just warning you, Toph, it might not even take.”

Toph was surprised at the long-suffering tone in Suki’s voice as she said, “Sokka.”

“Hey, it’s a possibility! I just wanna make sure we’re up front about everything!”

Suki let out a loud sigh, then she reached out and she took one of Toph’s hands, interlacing their fingers. Despite all her power Toph was still a small woman, and her hands seemed profoundly delicate in Suki’s strong grasp, Suki’s palm almost double as wide.

Bluntly, Suki said, “I haven’t had my moon cycle in years, but we’re pretty sure everything works fine on his end. So don’t worry, especially given what you’re working with. Katara once told me you only ever slept with Lin’s dad once, is that true?”

“Oh, yeah,” said Toph, taken aback. “One time, sloshed on soju, didn’t even stay til morning.”

“Legend,” said Sokka, shaking his head in awe. “Absolute legend.”

Toph swiped her thumb back and forth on the back of Suki’s hand. “I didn’t know you guys were trying.”

“We’re not anymore,” Suki replied, honestly. “It’s fine. Aang and Katara were so young when they got started, we’ve been pretty busy helping them out.”

Even to Toph, this all suddenly felt a lot more complicated. “You know what,” she said, seriously. “Let me ask Zuko. He owes me, anyway, I never got him back for burning my feet when we were kids.”

She grinned at them, and this time both Sokka and Suki did laugh at the prospect of the Fire Lord agreeing to be a glorified sperm donor. “We should actually go visit Zuko,” Suki pointed out. “The Fire Nation royal physicians are the best at this kind of thing. They’ve been handling unconventional baby-making for generations.”

“Oh, please tell me what that means,” Toph said, grinning. “Don’t tell me those Fire Nation pussies are too much of a prude to get the job done naturally.”

“They’re just obsessed with lineage and inheritance and all of that stuff,” Sokka explained. “So they’ve got it down to a science. Drink this, take this powder, time it just right, and boom. You’re in babytown.”

Toph’s heart sank a little as it occurred to her why they knew so much about this. Get it done naturally had perhaps not been the best way to phrase it. “Romantic,” she remarked.

“Way better than the Northern Water Tribe healers,” Suki said, taking a sip of wine. “They just told me my womb was cursed by evil spirits.”

“And then everyone,” said Sokka, “and I mean everyone, in that healing hut had to put their glowy hands on my balls.”

Suki giggled. “That part wasn’t so bad.”

“Gross,” said Toph, mildly. “That’s the other problem, since we’re already talking about it. It’s one thing to let some horndog metalbender do what he needs to do to get the job done,” (“Gross,” echoed Suki, wisely,) “but - and no offense, Sokka, I’ll admit it, you’re one of my best friends in the world - the thought of having sex with you makes me want to throw up and die.”

“And I feel the same way about you,” said Sokka, fondly.

Suki agreed, “See, that does present a challenge. Not a lot of options here.”

Sokka thought about this, drumming his fingers on the table.

“I have an idea,” he said. “It’s a bad idea. But it is an idea.”

“I’ll take it,” said Toph, and then she slammed the rest of her drink back. “Anyway, goodnight, losers. I’m out.” She headed back into the hallway leading to the master bedroom, but as she passed the window to the courtyard where Aang, Katara, and the kids laid on Appa, she loudly called back to Sokka and Suki, “Don’t fuck on my good couch!”

Katara’s voice came from outside. “Toph!”

----

Sokka explained his idea to Aang while they watched Bumi chasing the girls through the garden, balancing an earthworm on his lips. “Wormstache! ” he bellowed at them, as Lin and Kya fled, screaming in laughter.

“-the second-best option is Fire Nation physicians,” Sokka continued. “But they’re a little weird when it comes to anyone who’s not from the Fire Nation. Really get a lot of mileage out of those calipers. So, my point is, at this point, I’m just wondering exactly how useful waterbending might be for this purpose. If it’s even possible.”

“It’s possible,” said Aang, without hesitation.

“Hm,” said Sokka. “I don’t love how sure you are of that, but hey, if it gets the job done, I’m not complaining.”

There was an unfamiliar, screwed-up look on Aang’s face, like he was thinking very, very hard about something.

“It’s not weird,” Sokka added, nudging him in the ribs. “Suki and I are basically co-parents to your kids. Same sort of idea.”

This was, as it turns out, not Aang’s problem at all. He placed one hand on his chest and said, “But, I am an earthbender. If she asked me, she knows I would’ve said yes, right?”

Of course: Aang, everyone’s best friend, hurt every time he was reminded that he wasn’t always their best friend. “Buddy,” said Sokka, seriously. “You’re the Avatar. You can’t donate a kid to a friend without it fueling the gossip mill for generations.”

“And you can? You’re the Chief of the Southern Water Tribe!”

“Vice-Chief,” Sokka corrected. “Technically Katara is the Chief, because the elders voted for her due to the fact that she’s the mother of the Avatar’s children.”

While technically this was true, she had been named in absentia, which had been extremely embarrassing for Sokka. (“Sorry,” Hakoda had said rather lamely, emerging from the elder’s council tent. “The problem is it’s mostly women in there. Too many of us old guys died in the war.”)

Either way, Aang seemed to follow Sokka’s logic. Before them, Lin tossed a rock at Bumi’s face with earthbending: he was fine, but Aang and Sokka both called out and got up, Sokka going to Bumi to check that he was OK and Aang going to Lin to remind her to be careful with bending, because it’s easy to accidentally hurt someone if you don’t know what you’re doing.

Once the kids were playing again, Sokka and Aang returned to lay back on Appa’s furry legs. “Katara would be better at it,” Aang said, as if their conversation hadn’t been interrupted. “I, um - know my way around down there, but she’s got firsthand experience. And she helped Toph with her first pregnancy, so she knows what she’s doing.”

“Totally agree,” said Sokka. “But Toph’s not the problem with that idea.”

“Come on, Sokka. You helped deliver Bumi, didn’t you? This would be her returning the favor.”

“I fainted twice, Aang.”

Despite himself, Aang grinned at the memory. “You tried your best, and that’s what matters.”

Neither of them said anything for a moment, watching the kids scream and laugh and play. Aang wondered if Suki and Toph were currently pitching the same idea to Katara inside.

“Sokka?” asked Aang.

“Mm?”

“It’s really nice of you to do this.”

“Eh.”

“Toph doesn’t have a great relationship with her parents,” continued Aang, “which I think is why she didn’t see any issues with the way she did it the first time. But kids need to know they haven’t been abandoned. Family is important.”

“Says the monk,” said Sokka.

“Lapsed monk,” said Aang. “Sure, I’ll never reach the top of the mountain or find enlightenment under the bodhi tree, but it might take a few generations before we’ve repopulated enough for that. I can live with that.”

They watched the kids play.

“Tenzin’s an airbender,” said Aang, softly.

Sokka turned to look at him, eyes wide. “You can tell already?” Aang nodded, his eyes on Bumi chasing his sister and Lin. “You’re sure?’

Aang nodded. Sokka got the sense that he didn’t trust himself to say anything else, not wanting to dissolve into tears in front of his children. Normally, this would be unlike Aang: most of the time he never held back his emotions in front of his kids, laughing and crying with them in equal measure, but this was different. Bumi and Kya were sweet, and beautiful, and perfect, and he wouldn’t want to change a single hair on their heads. But now, Aang was no longer the last airbender on the face of the earth.

But Sokka wasn’t about to let Aang get away with not crying. Delighted, he seized Aang by the shoulders, squeezing him so hard he swore he heard a rib crack. “Aang!” he shrieked. “Aang, congratulations. I’m so happy for you.”

Aang’s face had gone bright pink, but he returned the embrace, hugging Sokka tightly. “Thank you,” he said, honestly, humbly. “Don’t mention it to Bumi yet, I have to talk to him about it.”

“He’ll be happy,” Sokka assured him. “He’ll be so happy, trust me. Hey, I’m the expert at being the non-bending older brother, right? Just you wait.”

Lin pegged Bumi right in the center of the chest with a handful of mud, dirt from the rosebushes which Kya had splashed with water from the fountain. Dramatically, Bumi seized the spot where the mud hit him, pretended to choke, then threw his arms up and stuck his tongue out as he fell to the ground, slain.

The best thing about traveling with the Avatar was that, when they got to the Fire Nation capital, the Fire Lord had a genuine excuse to meet them all the way out at the docks instead of making Sokka and Suki wait until another boring diplomatic meeting was finally over. He was there with Mai and little Izumi, who waved frantically as the ship docked and Bumi hung over the edge of the deck, shouting her name in excitement.

Aang told Appa to go on to the royal stables, where there was a huge pen stocked with the finest quality hay, something Zuko had put together years ago. When they disembarked, Bumi tripped and slid his way down the last half of the ramp but immediately recovered, sprinting to Izumi. He hugged her first, and then he put her in a headlock, which she quickly escaped from, pouncing on Bumi to return the favor.

She couldn’t hold him for long: her arms shook too much, wobbling back and forth as if reacting to an earthquake only she could feel. “Hi Uncle Zuko, hi Auntie Mai!” Bumi said, and then he asked Izumi, “Are those new braces? That’s fancy!”

Preening, Izumi showed off the braces which looped around her heels and went up to her knees: they appeared to be made of solid gold. When Izumi was born, the cord attaching her to her mother had been wrapped around her neck; though she was perfectly healthy otherwise, the royal physicians had explained to Zuko and Mai that this was the reason her limbs sometimes shook for no reason, and she had trouble walking as a young child. The braces used to be so extensive she would sometimes use a wheeled chair, but regular firebending training was strengthening her muscles so much she would be growing out of them entirely soon.

Suki and Aang had grown to respect the Fire Nation’s customs of respect and courtesy, but Katara and Sokka were still Water Tribe peasants when it came down to it. They both greeted Zuko and Mai with big hugs, and Katara kissed both of them on their cheek. 

Though Izumi was best friends with Bumi, she was shyer when it came to her parents’ adult friends. Still wobbling slightly, she put her hands behind her back nervously when Katara said, “Hi Izumi, it’s so good to see you! How are you?”

She bowed. “I’m very well, Master Katara!”

“You can call me Auntie, Izumi!”

“OK, Auntie Master Katara!”

Sokka grinned at his sister, then dropped to one knee. “Hey, kiddo,” he said. “Remember that secret handshake I taught you?”

While she shook her head yes eagerly, she only actually seemed to remember half of it. Sokka called Bumi over so they could practice it together while Kya greeted Zuko and Mai boldly, without any shyness, even though she had been so young since they visited there was no way she remembered them. Happily, she asked, “Do you, would you wanna see me waterbend?” to which Mai said, “Sure,” and Kya did a little dance in front of them. Nothing happened, but when she held her arms out and said, “Ta-da!” Zuko and Mai both clapped politely anyway.

“Hey,” said Aang, grinning at them. Bowing once at Zuko then at Mai, he greeted them with: “Fire Lord, Fire Lady,” and then he held his son in his arms and said, “I’d like you to meet Tenzin.”

“Another baby?” asked Mai, but she said it with a smile, joking. “You’re making us look bad in front of the whole court.”

“Well, we had so much fun with the first two,” Aang responded, as Zuko leaned in to wave at Tenzin’s grumpy little face. “He likes you,” he said, elbowing Zuko. “He just woke up from a nap, that’s why his face looks like that.”

Toph’s delighted voice came from behind Aang. “Looks like what?” she asked. “Hold on, is Tenzin an ugly baby? Oh, that makes so much sense-”

“Tenzin,” said Katara, offended, “is the cutest baby in the world -”

To Bumi, Sokka murmured, “That’s a lie, you were.”

“Toph,” said Zuko, taken aback. “I didn’t know you were coming. Hello, Lin,” he added, addressing the little girl in Toph’s arms. “What brings you all the way out here?”

Suki giggled. “Oh, just wait. You’re not gonna believe it.”

Ignoring this, Toph strode right up to the Fire Lord and punched him in the arm. “Maybe I wanted to see you, Sparky.”

Sokka said, “Surely not see him, Toph-” and she flicked her wrist, causing her space-rock bracelet to whizz off her arm in the shape of a boomerang and bounce off the side of the head.

“Well,” said Zuko, already thinking about logistics, cogs always moving, juggling ten things at once, “I’m going to have to get another guest room ready - I’ll see if we have any without a wooden flooring.”

“It’s fine,” said Toph, calmly. “I’ll just double up with Sokka and Suki.”

Suki grinned, and Mai arched an eyebrow at her.

Because having the Avatar at the palace was an important event, dinner that night was one of those endless Fire Nation affairs where Aang’s family sat with Zuko’s family on a raised platform in the courtyard and servants brought out round after round of food. First Zuko made a short speech, then Aang did, then a few nobles, then Mai’s father, who was still atoning for his previous Ozai loyalist leanings, rambled on for half an hour about the great state of the Fire Nation under Fire Lord Zuko’s wise and gracious rule, until finally Toph, her feet hidden under the table, jerked her ankle to bend a spoon into slapping him on the face, causing him to finally shut the fuck up.

Once all the pleasantries were done and the first few courses had been served, things lightened up, allowing everyone to mingle. Katara left to nurse Tenzin inside, since she knew the Fire Nation was prudish about a mother feeding her baby naturally in public, and Aang, always so incensed by this, went with her. In the meanwhile Bumi, Izumi, Kya, and Lin went to play around the courtyard, and Zuko could finally get some answers.

To Toph’s disappointment, he took it way better than she thought he might. “Why not Aang?” asked Mai, sounding genuinely curious. “He’s an earthbender.”

“Aang can earthbend,” Toph corrected. “That’s different from being an earthbender. Besides, his track record is lousy, took him two tries to make a bender.”

“Don’t say that,” said Suki, making a face. “That’s rude.”

“You could end up with a waterbender,” Zuko pointed out. “Sokka, your parents weren’t benders, and they had Katara. You’re probably a non-bending carrier.”

Toph considered this. “Well. I’d rather a waterbender than an airbender, anyway. Those guys are pussies.”

“Those guys,” Sokka quoted. “You mean, the one guy. The one airbender there is.” He didn’t know if Aang or Katara had told any of the others about Tenzin, so he didn’t mention it.

“Well,” said Zuko, reasonably. “You’re welcome to any and all resources we have. I’ll put some of the royal physician staff on-call for you if you need it. Stay as long as you like.”

Suki asked, “Is Azula around?”

“Somewhere,” said Mai, leaning onto Zuko’s shoulder. “She said if she came to dinner she would probably wind up killing Minister Qin because he’s always such a baby around her. I said no problem,” she added, with a shrug, “but Zuko prefers that people don’t die at public events, so she stayed away.”

A gasp seized the crowd there in the courtyard, followed by sounds of wonder rippling through the crowd. A few people pointed towards the sky. Looking up, the group saw Appa soaring in the dusky sky, circling two dragons: one was long and blue, and the other noticeably smaller, red, with one normal wing and the other undersized, flapping in the wind. Appa rumbled happily at them, and the blue dragon opened its mouth and shot a bloom of yellow-red fire into the sky.

Druk was longer than Appa, but not as large. Smoothly, he spiraled up into the clouds, then came hurtling down towards the earth, pulling up at the last second to lightly touch his claws upon the grass at the far side of the courtyard. The crowd broke out in applause.

Zuko got to his feet. To the kids, whose wide eyes were glued to the dragon (except for Izumi, who grinned proudly), he asked, “Who wants a ride?”

Azula’s red dragon Lawu twirled around Druk as Zuko flew with Bumi, Kya, and Lin, shrieking in joy. Unlike her brother, Lawu could only carry one rider at a time, and only a prodigious dragon-rider talent could balance on her unsteady flight path, always on the precipice of toppling sideways due to her misshapen wing. Besides, she snapped at anyone who tried to climb onto her back except Azula. Zuko still had a comically oversized bite mark on his leg to prove it. 

As Zuko and Druk continued flying, Lawu dropped to the courtyard garden as well, and lowered her head graciously to nuzzle with Izumi, whom she tolerated the most outside of Azula. Sokka and Suki went up to join her, tentatively greeting Lawu, but a voice from behind the dragon called, “Don’t touch, peasant. I’ll have her toast you alive.”

Suki grinned, looking around to catch Azula lazily leaning over the banister surrounding the courtyard. “I was hoping you’d be here,” she said. “You’re the only one worth sparring with in the whole city.”

Azula yawned theatrically. “Always with the sparring. You know, I’m starting to think you like getting beaten by me. Well,” she sighed, very pointedly looking Sokka up and down, “I suppose I’d also have to look for excitement elsewhere if I were married to…that.”

Sokka called, “Nice to see you too, Azula.”

She shrugged. “Kyoshi Warriors have a reputation. I’m just saying. Everyone knows Earth Kingdom girls are easy.”

Suki managed to get her hands over Izumi’s ears before Azula said this last thing, which made Izumi giggle, prying at her grip. Azula smirked at them, and wandered away.

Mildly, Sokka asked, “Do you want me to fight her for your honor? I can absolutely fight her for your honor, babe.”

“No thanks,” said Suki, patting him gratefully on the cheek. “You’d lose.”

They all stayed in their usual apartments in the palace, which centered around a courtyard which held a pond full of turtleducks. Toph, who had never stayed in the Fire Nation capital long enough to have an apartment in the palace, was offered the quarters next to Aang and Katara, but then Zuko mentioned there was another apartment in the basement, near the kitchen,  that had no flooring - just the plain rock of the palace’s foundation. “Oh, fuck hanging out with you guys,” Toph had said, happily. “Me and Lin are doing that one.”

While Suki was in the bath, Sokka wandered out of their apartment into the moon-draped courtyard, wondering if he could find a servant or something who’d tell him where to find fireflakes for emergency midnight snacking. He didn’t get far before he noticed someone in the courtyard, laying on the grass before the turtleduck pond.

Bumi startled awake when Sokka approached. “Hey, kiddo,” he said, taking a seat next to him. “Whatcha doing?”

He yawned, then wiggled around on the ground in a stretch. “Meditating.”

“Really?” asked Sokka. The turtleducks were asleep on the bank, the ducklings all cuddled up close to their mother, and the waning moon reflected perfectly on the still water of the pond. “Kinda looked like you were taking a nap.”

“Dad says it’s OK to nap when you’re meditating,” Bumi explained, laying on the grass, hands on his stomach. “He says if you’re doing it right it calms you down, which makes falling asleep easier. That’s why he does it at night before bed.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” said Bumi. He closed his eyes, looking like he could fall right back asleep. “If he doesn’t, he gets nightmares.”

Sokka knew this: Aang had been plagued by nightmares since he came out of the iceberg, even back when they were kids. Some times were worse than others. When Bumi was very young, it had gotten to the point where Zuko’s Uncle Iroh gifted Aang with a special tea to help him enter a dreamless sleep. Sokka had seen a tin of it amongst bedrolls, scrolls, and other belongings while helping to pack up Appa, but he had no idea how much use it got anymore.

Of course Bumi had picked up on it as well. One annoying thing about the nomad lifestyle, always traveling, sleeping wherever you were, was that everyone heard everything at night. (Which explained why Kya and Tenzin were born approximately nine months after extended stays at the Fire Nation palace and the Southern Water Tribe, respectively. Katara and Aang were very open with their eldest son, but even they could appreciate the utility of a private room.)

“You know,” Sokka began, leaning back against the tree which hung over the turtleduck pond. “I met your dad when he was about your age. Sometimes when he was dreaming, he’d accidentally make a whirlwind or kick giant rocks into the air. When he would nap on Appa’s saddle, we had to tie a rope around his foot to keep him from floating away.”

Bumi giggled. “We still do that. One time, he caught a cold and Appa made him fly all the way to Ba Sing Se on his glider because every time he sneezed the gust almost blew Appa out of the sky.” So Aang’s sneezing had gotten worse, not better, since they were kids. Sokka laughed, and then, grinning, Bumi added, “We’re gonna need to figure out something for Tenzin now, too.”

Sokka’s eyebrows went up. Aang hadn’t said anything about telling Bumi that his brother was an airbender yet. “Is that right?”

“Yeah,” said Bumi casually, as if this were nothing. “He’s gonna be the worst when he gets older. A while ago I was holding him, and he sneezed, and I almost dropped him.”

“Babies are wiggly, that could’ve just been a normal sneeze-”

“And we flew ten feet in the air,” said Bumi.

“Ah,” said Sokka. “Well, that does seem pretty definitive.” He glanced sidelong at Bumi, who was splayed out on the grass, peaceful as ever. “Did your dad talk to you about that?”

“About what?”

“Tenzin.”

Bumi turned his face to shoot a look at Sokka that said, What are you talking about? “He talks to me about Tenzin all the time. I was just telling Mom and Dad he doesn’t take enough naps, that’s why he’s so cranky all the time. He likes being awake and watching everything going on. Kinda like me.”

Having been left in charge of all of the little warriors left in the Southern Water Tribe at a fairly young age, this was something Sokka happened to agree with. “Right? They just let him sleep whenever, whatever happened to naptime?”

Apparently Sokka did not see the irony of saying this to a twelve-year-old who was sitting outside hanging out with his favorite uncle late at night instead of going to sleep. But then Bumi said, “I don’t think Dad knows that Tenzin can airbend yet.”

“He might,” said Sokka.

“He might,” agreed Bumi. “But I don’t think he wants to know.”

Not what Sokka had expected to hear. He looked down at his nephew, a slight frown on his brow.

Both Kya and Bumi resembled their mother: mellow brown skin, dark hair that shone brown in the sun, built thickly up-and-down like they were made to fit into Water Tribe parkas. Bumi’s eyes were so light that he sometimes had to wear snow glasses during the summer months in the South Pole to avoid snowblindness. He was growing his hair out into a warrior’s wolftail, and the last time they visited home Hakoda had braided beads into his hair as Bumi happily recounted everything he’d done while he was away.

Traditionally, Water Tribe boys didn’t wear beads in their hair until they’d completed their ice-dodging. Sokka hadn’t brought it up; he knew his father carried regrets and pain about being away from his children for so long, and even though it had been years, they’d never really talked about all the things he’d missed. Sokka figured he was trying to make up for lost time now, clinging tightly to the brief moments when he could be around his grandchildren. He wondered about it sometimes, if changing traditions in order to pass them along was the best option. He imagined Aang wondered about it too.

When Bumi was still a toddler, Hakoda would sometimes watch him for hours, as if trying to memorize every plane of his face. Sokka hadn’t thought much of it until once, at dinner, Hakoda told Katara, “He looks so much like your mother.”

“Excuse me,” Sokka had said, grinning. “He looks just like me.”

Katara laughed. “That’s ‘cause you look like Mom, Sokka.”

Suki, who had been away serving as the Fire Lord’s bodyguard at an important political summit, cried when Sokka told her this. It took her a long time to move past the guilt she carried about her inability to conceive, though Sokka told her honestly, constantly, that he didn’t care. When Bumi was a baby, he had been everybody’s child: the first born to the group, the first, tentative evidence that life could move on, past the war and its fallout, and open wide to welcome whatever came next. He represented the connection between the past and the future, a face passed down over three generations, a boy born to the decimated Southern Water Tribe, and the first child of the Air Nomads in a century.

And he was a nonbender. So, sure - Sokka tried not to play favorites, but he wasn’t very good at hiding it. 

Sliding down from his spot on the tree, Sokka laid down on the grass opposite Bumi so the crown of their heads almost touched. “Why do you say that?” he asked, peering up at the moon. As always, he could almost see a face hiding in its shadows.

“I don’t know,” said Bumi. “I know he doesn’t want me to see, but he’s sad about the airbenders. Every time we visit one of the Air Temples, it’s hard for him.”

Though privately Sokka agreed - he didn’t like the Air Acolytes, even if Katara had asked him to please, please give them a chance, for Aang - he still felt protective of Aang and the grief he so rarely gave himself time to feel. “He’s happy, too,” Sokka pointed out. “There are people there again, whole families. He hated seeing the temples so empty before.”

Bumi didn’t answer right away, which was how Sokka knew this was serious. He sat up and poked his nephew in the ribs. “Hey,” he said. “What’s wrong?”

Still laying on the grass, Bumi looked up at Sokka. “When we were visiting Uncle Teo,” he began, his lips pursed slightly, “some of the Acolytes were saying it’s OK I’m not an airbender, because Mom and Dad will just keep having kids until one of us is.”

Sokka cringed. More reason to not trust the Air Acolytes. “That’s hippocow shit, Bumi. Nobody has kids for the sake of bending.”

“Auntie Toph did.”

“That’s not true,” said Sokka, shaking his head. “Who told you that?”

“No one told me,” said Bumi. “I have eyes and ears, Uncle.”

“Toph is…” he thought about how to put this delicately, “...in a unique situation. It didn’t matter to her who Lin’s father was, so she had to pick somebody somehow. Besides, your parents are nothing like Toph. Your dad loves you so much, all three of you, no matter if none of you were benders, or if you were all waterbenders, or all airbenders.”

“Dad told the Acolytes he was glad I’m not an airbender,” said Bumi, his voice quieter now. He stared up at the sky, the stars reflected in his eyes. “He said he hopes none of his kids are ever airbenders, because it’s horrible and lonely to carry that weight and he would never wish it on anyone, especially not if the only way Air Nomad culture survives is through a bunch of people wearing stupid costumes.”

Sokka blinked down at Bumi. No wonder Aang had been upset about it that night at Toph’s house. He had grown a lot in the twenty years since they ended the war, but despite his endless optimism and inherent brightness, Sokka had seen him lose control over his emotions before. At least it didn’t sound like this had triggered the Avatar State, which was impressive. Sokka would’ve kicked their asses off the side of the mountain for daring to make Bumi feel bad.

“Ah,” said Sokka, wishing he had something wise and thoughtful to say. 

Bumi added, “Then he told me I’m more Air Nomad than any of them. Mom says I’m more Air Nomad than Water Tribe, since we’re always traveling the world and living like Dad’s people.”

Naturally, Sokka took offense at that. But he understood where his sister was coming from. “Your dad is right,” he said. “Bending or not, you’re an Air Nomad. That’s part of you, and nobody can take it away. Not even Tenzin.”

“I’m not worried about that,” said Bumi, with the slightest hint of anger rising in his voice, a flicker of annoyance across his face. “Why does everyone think I’d be mad about that? Tenzin is my baby brother. It’d be really cool if he was an airbender - we’d be like you and Mom.”

“Right,” said Sokka, brushing his fingers through Bumi’s hair, lingering on the delicate glass beads at the end of his braids. “I’ve always told your mom and dad, it runs in the family. Firstborn sons are already so cool, we don’t need bending or else we would be way too powerful.”

Despite this, Bumi still looked upset. He screwed up his face, then sighed loudly and slapped his palms to his eyes, rubbing aggressively. Sokka put a hand on his shoulder, but otherwise let him get it out on his own.

A few moments later, Bumi lowered his hands. “I just don’t want Dad to be sad,” he said.

“He’s not sad,” said Sokka, without hesitation. “He’s proud.” He cocked his shoulder in a  shrug. “Maybe he’s a little scared. He’s been the last airbender for a long time. But don’t worry about him, Bumi, he has you, and your mom, and Kya, and Tenzin, and all of us there to help him. And you should talk to him about this,” he added, because he knew that’s what Aang would want him to say. “He loves talking about feelings. Like, too much, if you ask me.”

A door opened across the courtyard and Sokka spotted Suki poking her head out, looking for him. But he was too busy with Bumi, who finally sat up from the grass - his back was wet from the damp ground - and put his arms around Sokka’s shoulders, pressing his face into the crook of Sokka’s neck. Sokka didn’t say anything, just returned the hug. When Suki’s gaze found them, she quirked an eyebrow in a wordless question, and Sokka nodded his head, so she made her way out to the pond to join them, her footsteps silent as always.

“Hi, sweetheart,” she said to Bumi, putting her hands on his back as she settled down beside them. She kissed him on the head, and then Sokka looked up and she dropped a kiss on his lips, pressing their foreheads together. 

Once Bumi had cried a little, they all laid back down on the ground together under the moon, and Sokka was very very concerned that Suki was about to make a Yue joke - which was fair! They were usually funny jokes! - before Bumi asked, suddenly, “Auntie Suki? Can a Kyoshi Warrior be a boy?”

“Sure,” said Suki, with a shrug. “Boy, girl, whatever. Anyone can be a Kyoshi Warrior if they have the strength, skill, discipline, and honor.”

Sokka added, “I was a Kyoshi Warrior once. For a minute, anyway.”

“You were an initiate, at best,” Suki corrected.

Bumi turned over to lay on his front, propping himself up on his elbows. Earnestly, he asked, “Would you train me? I think I’m good on the strength part, the skill part, and the honor part, but I’ll be honest, the whole discipline thing could probably use some work.”

The look on Suki’s face was surprise and delight - not that Bumi was asking, but rather the way he put it sounded so much like Sokka that it took her a moment to recover. “Of course,” she said, sitting up. “Bumi, of course I’ll teach you. And don’t worry, discipline, like all arts, needs to be practiced. We’ll get you up to shape in no time.”

“Excellent,” said Bumi, grinning at her. He leapt to his feet and into a few basic fighting stances, making whooshing sounds with his mouth as he did so. “I need to practice so I can whoop Kya and Tenzin’s butts when they get old enough.” Both Sokka and Suki laughed, and Bumi added, “Oh, and I need a new boomerang, Uncle, the old one is too small for me now.”

“I think you’re completely right about that,” Sokka agreed, solemnly. “We’ll have to see if Zuko has any whale-walrus bone to make a new one. If not, next time we head back to the South Pole, you and I have to go hunting.”

Bumi’s eyes lit up at this, and the three of them laid there in the courtyard in the warm air of Fire Nation nighttime as Bumi talked and talked about every possible thing until he finally, at last, drifted to sleep.

In the morning Katara informed Sokka this was a recent development: whenever they stayed someplace with proper bedrooms and a roof over their head, Bumi couldn’t stand it, getting antsy if he didn’t have open sky above him. Zuko, listening in and very concerned, offered to have cots or hammocks set up in the courtyard so Bumi wouldn’t have to sleep on the ground. “Unfortunately,” sighed Katara, “I think he prefers the ground. He has a very Toph-like approach to dirt.”

Her mouth stuffed full of hotcakes, Toph barked a laugh at this, then high-fived Bumi.

Despite her protests, Suki and Katara both accompanied Toph to a visit with the team of royal physicians Zuko had set aside for them. They asked all the usual questions and, with Toph’s permission, performed an exam using a set of instruments Katara had never seen. She asked about them, and the physician explained everything as she worked. “Huh,” said Katara, thoughtfully. “I guess regular healing hands can only go so far.”

Eagerly, one of the male physicians said, “Master Katara, if you would do us the honor of allowing some of our experts to examine your healing in action, I have developed a theory that the Fire Nation may be able to reproduce similar effects - perhaps opening the practice to everyone, not just waterbenders, possibly not even restricted to benders-”

Katara was reminded of what Sokka said about the calipers, and politely declined.

On the day of, a few teachers from the Royal Firebending Academy came to entertain the children in the garden courtyard, leading them all through firebending stances as Azula barked corrections sharply from the sidelines, Lawu behind her. 

In one of the physician’s rooms, Toph was propped up on a bed frame made of stone, her back against the ornate wicker headboard. “Come on, Sokka,” she called, her arms crossed over her chest. “We don’t have all day.”

From her place protectively leaning against the door behind which Sokka was doing…his best, Suki said, “That’s not true, there’s no rush.” She pressed her ear against the door, then added, “Is everything OK? Do you want me to come in there and help you, baby?”

“No,” came Sokka’s voice, and after a loud noise of frustration, the door banged open, and Sokka glared out at the room. On the other side of Toph, Katara and Aang looked up innocently. “This is impossible,” he sighed. “Not exactly conducive conditions for-”

Suki insisted, “I told you, I’ll help-”

“Toph, does everyone really have to be present for this?”

“Twinkletoes could leave, I guess,” she shrugged back at him.

Aang was immediately offended. “Me? You’re trying to kick me out? What about Zuko, he’s not even doing anything!”

Zuko glanced up from where he laid on a couch near the door. “I’m just hiding from my advisors between meetings,” he said. “Pretend I’m not here.”

Toph grinned. “It does sorta feel right to have the whole gang back together for this.”

“Oh, sure,” said Sokka, rolling his eyes. “Easy for you to say, all you have to do is lay there and let Katara stick her hands up your crotch.”

Only looking halfway in Katara’s direction, Toph winked at her. “They don’t call her Master for nothing.”

“No hands are going anywhere,” said Katara, sternly. “I’ll be doing this with my eyes closed, for everybody’s sake.”

“That’s OK,” said Toph. “I’ve never needed to see to really crack things open down there.”

“This was a mistake,” said Sokka, shaking his head. “Toph, let’s go back to your place and just get smashed. That’ll be easier.”

“I already told you,” said Suki, shaking her head, “you’re no good when you’ve been drinking, Sokka-” to which Katara pretended to retch and placed her hands over her ears. 

“You stop complaining,” Sokka shot at his sister, pointing at her with one accusatory finger. Suki put her hands on his shoulders, trying to push him back into the other room. “You’re the one who volunteered to do this - plus what do you care, your water broke all over me when you had Bumi and I didn’t complain once, did I?”

“You fainted, dumbass-”

“Excuse me!” called Toph, and she smacked the stone frame she was on with both fists. Two stirrups emerged, and she dropped both her feet in them, then brought her elbows upwards, and the stirrups pushed back so her legs were in the air, her dress falling back above her lap. “Trying to get a job done over here!”

Sokka began, “For fuck’s sake,” as Suki halfheartedly tried to push him into the other room, and they all found themselves looking anywhere but Toph.

“Maybe I will leave,” suggested Zuko.

“Absolutely not,” Toph shot at him. “Since you’re here, you might as well be my back-up if Sokka can’t get the job done.”

“Hey!” barked Sokka, and Aang, sounding genuinely hurt, asked, “Zuko? Over me?”

This did not faze Zuko in the slightest. He got up from the couch, adjusting his robes, and said, “Sorry Toph, couldn’t help you even if I wanted to. I got the snip after Izumi.”

There was a beat of uncharacteristic silence in the room. Craning his neck to look around Suki, Sokka asked, “The what?”

Zuko returned the very odd looks he was receiving from them all. “The…” he paused, giving them a meaningful look, as if it were obvious, “...uh, procedure.” Another pause in which they all looked baffled, and then he asked, “You guys don’t do that?”

“Do what?” asked Katara, sounding halfway horrified, halfway intrigued.

“Well,” he began, with the air of a man about to explain something very complicated to a very young child, dreading the questions already, “you know. Historically, Fire Lords throughout have been slightly less, ah,” he searched for the word and settled, cringing, on, “well-behaved than I am, and wound up causing crises of succession due to illegitimate heirs. So a long time ago it became tradition to just…remove that particular concern once you produced the required number of children. An heir and a spare, as they say. Now all the royalty do it, you’ll notice not a lot of Fire Nation families have more than two children.”

“Zuko, buddy,” said Sokka, in disbelief. “In my country we only do that to animals.”

“It’s not - it’s more like.” He held up one hand, pressing his thumb and forefinger together. “You just cauterize a few little veins and then it’s not a problem anymore.”

“That,” said Toph, “is the funniest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“It is completely normal,” said Zuko. “All of you are the weird ones for expecting women to take tonics every month rather than let the men shoulder the responsibility.”

Suki seemed impressed. “That’s kind of nice, Zuko.”

“I’ve certainly never used any tonics,” added Katara.

“Yeah, Katara,” Toph said, waving her off. “We know.”

“Huh,” said Sokka, still taking this in. “Just another fucked up thing the Fire Nation does to their dicks.”

Aghast, Katara began to ask, “Another -?”

But Aang was kind enough to interrupt her, perhaps because he knew Katara could only take so much new information at a time. “You and Mai were happy with one?” he asked Zuko. “No spare?”

Zuko nodded, offering Aang a smile. “You know Izumi’s birth wasn’t easy. I wasn’t going to put Mai through that again.”

“Aw,” said Suki, leaning into Sokka’s shoulder.

“The first one’s always the hardest,” Katara confirmed. “Tenzin was easy, he practically slid right out.”

“Anyway,” said Zuko lightly, as if remarking on what was on the menu for dinner that night. “You all know that Fire Nation physicians have a tool for this, right? It’s kind of like,” he made a gesture with his hands, about eight inches apart, squeezing one side, “a turkeyduck baster?”

“What?” asked Sokka, then he batted at Toph’s ankle and asked, “Why aren’t we using that?”

“Because it’s not you it has to get shoved up inside of, Sokka. Besides,” Toph continued, tucking her hands behind her head. “I don’t trust those kooks. They kept asking Katara about her hyper-fecundity.”

Aang’s eyebrows shot up: Katara had not told him this. She flushed slightly. “I thought they were just being weirdly polite, but I guess the whole two-kids-only thing explains why they thought three was impressive.”

“I told her that’s some old-fashioned Fire Nation bigotry,” Toph added. “You know what they say about Water Tribe folks.”

“Hold on,” said Sokka, arching his eyebrow at Toph, then, remembering she couldn’t appreciate it, aiming his judgmental gaze on Zuko. “What is it they say, again?”

Zuko threw up his hands. “I think it’s time for me to go.”

Still looking for an answer, Sokka turned to Suki, who innocently replied, “Some of it is nice stuff, really.”

In response to Zuko, Aang added, “Maybe I’ll come with you,” but Katara said, “Oh no, I am not doing this without you,” so he stayed. Before Zuko left he wished Toph good luck, and Toph pushed the stirrups up and said, “Get a good look, gayboy,” to which he responded, “I’m married, Toph.”

He left, and Suki managed to wrestle Sokka back into the other room. There was a moment’s pause, and then Toph flicked a splinter of stone from the stirrups towards Aang’s head. Without thinking he caught it, which impressed Toph, even if he simply redirected its trajectory around his head and back to its source in a very waterbender move. “Good,” she said. High praise from Sifu Beifong. “Now lighten up, Twinkletoes, I can hear you pouting from here.”

“No,” said Aang, sounding distracted, “sorry, Toph. I don’t want to bring down your big day.”

“It’s barely a medium day, Aang, I’ll manage.”

“It’s just that,” he continued, and it was clear his apology had been mostly for show, and he had no intentions of not sharing his feelings, as usual. “Whatever your choice is for your family, I respect that. And I’m really excited for you and Sokka, whatever happens. But…I guess I’m asking, why does it seem like you’d already decided it wasn’t going to be me by the time you first brought this up?”

Katara leaned into her husband’s shoulder, one arm around his waist, thinking about how this was such an insane fucking thing to ask.

Toph sighed. “Don’t be a baby. It’s not personal.”

“Um, it feels personal. It actually feels like it would be wrong if it weren’t personal.”

“He’s taller.”

“I’m taller!”

“Oh,” said Toph. “Well, how was I supposed to know?” She sighed, and then blindly reached out to grab hold of Aang’s robe, tugging him down so he knelt beside the bed, level with her face. “Listen, Aang. It’s not that I don’t think you’d be a good dad. Lin already likes you more than she likes me, plus you made Bumi, which,” with her other hand she held up a thumbs-up towards Katara, “only really, really, ridiculously cool parents could do.” Her hand wandered from his robes up to his face, her fingers slipping across his features like the first time she asked what the rest of them looked like, and then kept touching their faces for the rest of the night, fascinated. She touched his bald head, imagining she could feel the shape of his arrow, then down to his brow, his closed eyes and the length of his eyelashes, tracing her fingers down his nose and his wide mouth. “Plus,” she added, “Suki says you’re closer to my coloring, and Lin’s too. But I don’t need my kids to be a matching set.”

Katara offered, “Lin will ask about that.”

“And I’ll tell her,” Toph replied. "I don’t want to keep secrets from her.”

“You don’t even remember her father’s name.”

“Then it’s not a secret if I tell her I don’t know, is it?” asked Toph, her patience wearing thin. “The point is, it’s not about who would make the better father or who’s my better friend. But you’re the Avatar, and more than that, you’re so…” she paused, her head bobbing slightly as she searched for the words.

“Bright,” she said. 

Aang made a face. “You can’t even see me.”

She let out a little laugh, but it was quieter than usual. “Not like that. Or, maybe a little like that.” She took her hand away from his face. “You were the first person who ever saw me for who I really was. And that was before I really knew who I was. It was like you cut right through everything - all the doubt, and fear, and the tangled knot of what I thought my life was supposed to be. I was shitty about it,” she added, and then she reached out towards Katara, and Katara obliged and moved forward, taking her hand, “but I was twelve, so I’m not apologizing for anything. You were twelve too, Aang. Sometimes I think about that and can’t believe it.”

Katara sniffled slightly. “I do too.”

“OK,” said Aang, looking at Toph gently, tenderly. “So you didn’t want me to be the father to your child because you think of me as a twelve-year-old.”

She laughed, and roughly wiped at her nose before she punched him in the shoulder. “You saved the world, Twinkletoes, and you did it through the power of love. I can’t even get myself to tell a woman I love her. It feels - too much. Like giving up a little bit of myself, no matter how much I want to. I couldn’t get myself to put the world above my own freedom even if I wanted to.”

There was an awkward pause. It occurred to Katara for the first time that Toph was having this conversation with her whole pussy out, so she very gently reached out and pulled Toph’s skirt down past her lap.

“So,” said Toph lamely. “That’s why it had to be Sokka. He’s kinda stupid and annoying. Much more like me.”

“I love you, Toph,” said Aang.

“I know,” replied Toph. “That’s what I’m saying.”

Katara said, “I love you too, Toph.”

Toph pointed at her. “Don’t push your luck, Sugar Queen.”

The door to the adjacent room burst open. “Success,” announced Sokka, with maybe just a little too much pride.

It was easier not to dwell on how weird this whole situation was. With one hand Katara coaxed water from her waterskin, enveloping her fingers, and pressed that hand against Toph’s stomach, just above her hips. The water around Katara’s hand began to glow as she sensed the blood and life at work underneath Toph’s skin, the complex machinations of her body warm with anticipation, ready to unfurl and cradle something precious inside of her. Without looking, Katara did what she’d been asked, guiding it up inside of Toph, feeling it reach the narrow channel of her womb.

Aang’s hand was on Toph’s shoulder. “Does it hurt?” he asked.

“No,” she said. “Not at all.”

Suki and Sokka had retreated to the couch Zuko had vacated, holding hands. She kissed him, and he was whispering something to her that the others couldn’t hear.

“OK,” said Katara, taking her hands away. “Now all we can do is wait.”

“Cool,” said Toph, happily. She turned around to prop her legs up against the headboard. “Thanks, you guys. I have a good feeling about this.”

From the couch, Suki said, “You know, the whole elevating your legs thing is actually a myth.”

Toph replied, “Like you’d know,” which struck Katara as breathtakingly cruel, but Suki was grinning when she sidled up to the bed.

She leaned over and pushed Toph’s hair back, then dropped a kiss on her forehead. “You’re a good mom,” she told her. “I can’t wait to meet Beifong Baby Number Two.”

Sokka appeared, tucking his arm around Suki’s waist. In good spirits considering the inherent awkwardness of the whole situation, he offered, “I can get you a list of some Southern Water Tribe names if you need inspiration, Toph.”

“Gross,” she said fondly. “You’ve done the hard part, now you’re officially relegated to cool uncle status. Don’t fuck it up.”

If they had timed it correctly - Toph was notoriously bad at paying attention to dates - then they only had to wait fourteen days to see if it took. In the meantime they enjoyed the time together, playing with the kids, laughing with one another. They all took a visit to the tearoom Iroh had opened in the Fire Nation capital a few years ago, after his health began to flag and Zuko convinced him to return home. He had never met Lin or Tenzin, but greeted them with great joy. Zuko had warned the others not to overwhelm his uncle with too much new information at once - lately, he sometimes got confused and couldn’t remember things he’d just been told - but they still weren’t prepared for how he held Tenzin in his arms and said to Zuko, “Look, Lu Ten, your new cousin…” 

Zuko reminded him, “This is Tenzin, Uncle,” and Iroh said, “Ah, yes,” but that was it. 

At night Lin slept in her mother’s bed, Toph holding her close. She pressed her daughter along the curve of her own stomach, wondering if something had already taken root there, ready to grow.

“Hey,” murmured Toph. She squeezed her daughter around the tummy, tickling her on the sides until she laughed and batted her mother’s hands away. “Little badgermole. What if you had a baby sister?”

It could be a brother. Toph didn’t know yet. But she had a feeling.

Lin wiggled around until she was facing her mother, looking awfully serious for a three-year-old. “A sister?” she asked, sounding vaguely interested.

“Yep. Like how Bumi has Kya.”

“I like Kya,” said Lin.

“Yeah, me too. I can’t make any guarantees, but any sister of yours is probably going to be at least as cool as Kya. Probably cooler, ‘cause Kya’s dad is a huge nerd.”

Lin smushed against Toph’s forehead in a gesture Toph had started to think of as a kiss, even though it was her daughter’s entire face, not just her lips. “Will,” she began, in half-babbling babytalk, intelligible to Toph only due to familiarity, “will Kya’s dad come live with us?”

Toph smoothed back her baby’s hair with one hand. Sometimes the touch was overwhelming. Childbirth had been like nothing Toph had ever felt before: vulnerable, raw, split open, navigating those hours through sensation alone, unable to hear Katara’s voice over the sound of the second heartbeat Toph could hear inside of herself. She had never felt more connected to someone else. And even now, when she touched her daughter’s skin she felt a part of the world, like the way she’d felt when those badgermoles showed her how to whisper to the inside of the earth, and listen for when it whispered back.

“No, Lin,” she said, ungentle. “No dads for us, baby. We don’t need ‘em. Lots of uncles,” she added, sternly. “More uncles than you’ll know what to do with. But you’re here because of me, Lin. Because I wanted you. I loved you into being. Did you know that?”

Lin returned the touch, pressing her hands against Toph’s face. “No, Mama.”

“Well, remember it. We’ll tell your baby sister when she gets here too. We’ll tell her I loved you two so much, I went looking, and I didn’t stop until I found you.”

“OK, Mama. We’ll tell her.”

“And if you ever get mad at me,” Toph added, suddenly, the words bubbling up from her stomach, escaping her lips before she had a chance  to catch them. “If I hold you too tight. If I’m ever stupid on top of blind. Then it’s OK if you hurt me, Lin, alright? I understand.” She tucked a lock of Lin’s hair behind her ear. “I’ll probably get mad back at you, but only for a little bit. And I’ll always let you go, if that’s what you want. That’s what I can promise you. Who knows about all the other shit. That’s the best that I can do, kid.”

In the softness of the bed, Toph felt her daughter shift. At first she thought she was in for another smushed-face forehead kiss, but then Lin pressed her warm little cheek onto Toph’s, wetting her face with her mother’s tears. She didn’t say anything.

It had only been a day. But deep inside of her, Toph thought she felt a heartbeat come to life.