Chapter Text
Republic city was loud that night—lanterns glowing, music spilling from open doors, laughter echoing through the streets. Team Avatar hadn’t been together like this in years, and for once, the world wasn’t ending.
Toph leaned back in her chair, arms crossed, a smirk on her face as she listened to Sokka argue about something pointless. Across from her, Zuko sat quieter than the rest, though every now and then his voice cut in—sharp, thoughtful, familiar.
They hadn’t seen each other in a long time. Zuko is doing his fire lord-ness and toph teaching. They were casual…
“Still brooding, Sparky?” Toph teased, tilting her head slightly in his direction.
Zuko huffed. “Still impossible?”
“Always.”
It started with jokes. Then conversations. Then something quieter, heavier—things they didn’t say out loud but both understood. By the time the night wore thin and the others drifted off, they were the only ones left talking.
No one mentioned what happened after.
And the next morning, they didn’t mention it either.
Toph was already gone before sunrise.
Zuko stayed behind a while longer, staring out over the city, jaw tight. Whatever had passed between them, it was easier—safer—to leave it where it was: unspoken.
So they did.
———————————————
A year passed.
Zuko stood in Republic City again, summoned by Aang. Something about rising tensions, a problem that needed more than just the Avatar. He didn’t expect to see her there.
But Toph was leaning against a pillar when he arrived, arms crossed like always.
“About time you showed up,” she said casually.
Zuko blinked. “Toph.”
Neither of them mentioned the last time they’d been in the same city.
Aang launched into the problem, but Zuko barely heard it. Something felt… different. Not just the city—Toph herself. There was a steadiness to her stance, plumpness to her body spirits, something grounded in a way he couldn’t quite explain.
Later, when the meeting ended and the others moved ahead, Zuko lingered.
“You’ve been busy,” he said carefully.
Toph shrugged. “Look who’s talking your majesty”
But she didn’t walk away right away.
There was a pause—longer than necessary.
And then, faintly, Zuko heard it.
Not with his ears, but with something deeper—the way Toph seemed to sense the world. A small presence. A heartbeat that wasn’t hers.
He frowned. “Toph…?”
She stiffened.
For once, she didn’t have a comeback ready.
“It’s nothing you need to worry about,” she said, too quickly and tried to leave.
Zuko wasn’t convinced. “You’re hiding something.”
Toph scoffed, turning away. “Since when do I owe you explanations?”
“Since—” He stopped himself.
Since that night.
The words hung there, unspoken but understood. He wants to shout like an immature child.
He wants to hold her and kiss her just like before.
Toph exhaled slowly, her usual confidence flickering just a bit. “Look, Flameo. Things change. People move on.”
Zuko stepped closer, quieter now. “Did we?”
That finally got her.
Toph’s expression hardened, but there was something else beneath it—something uncertain. Protective.
“You’ve got a Fire Nation to run, Fire lord” she said. “And I’ve got my own life.”
Before he could respond, a small voice echoed from down the hall.
“Mommy?”
Toph froze.
Zuko did too.
A child—no older than a year—stood there with a nanny beside her, unsteady but determined, tiny hands reaching out.
And for the first time in a long while, Toph didn’t have control of the moment.
Zuko looked from the child… back to her.
The realization came slowly, then all at once.
Toph clenched her jaw. “Don’t.”
But it was too late.
The past hadn’t stayed in the past after all.