Here comes a thought

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A/N:  I had hoped to get a few chapters out, but I think you'll have to settle for probably the longest Amaya chapter yet.  Well, one starring her and Zuko at the very least.  Yay, right?  Anyway, if any more chapters appear, you're welcome; otherwise, more are on the way either tomorrow or later in the week.  Until then, enjoy!

It seemed I would spend my day in bed while Iroh went out for the day.  Iroh and Zuko had the day off, apparently.

It had been a few days since the incident between Jet and Zuko.


Speaking of, Zuko was apparently my nanny for the day since Iroh had been doting on me since the... injury. It was healing, slowly.  I couldn't reach or see it, so healing it myself was not going to happen.  So, besides tracking down Katara... wait, where would I even look?

"If you keep frowning like that, your face will get stuck that way."

I started, looking up to see Zuko pushing aside the little curtain with a tray in hand.


"What?" That was hella intelligent.

"You used to say that to me," he answered, putting the tray down next to my cot.  

There was food and tea.

"It sounds like something I'd say," I answered blandly.

"I'm sorry," that sounded like it hurt.

"What for?" I asked, frowning and looking back at him.  


Yes, he was red-faced and fidgeting.  Clearly, 'I'm sorry' didn't come out of his mouth that often.

He waved his hand at my shoulder.  That's what this was about?

"But no one saw who did it, and both your swords had blood," I pointed out.  "Can't very well hold a grudge anyway."

"But you could have died," Zuko looked down.  "You lost so much blood..."

I forced a smile.  "I'm alive, aren't I?  Don't worry about the 'what ifs' and 'could haves'.  What matters is right now, right?"


Zuko didn't look convinced, so I reached over with my good arm and took the tea.  I sipped it carefully, then smiled at him.

"You've improved," I said lightly.

When he still didn't smile, I set it aside.  It looked like I was going to have to try something else.

"Zuko."

He looked at me, clearly still fretting about the things I told him not to.

"Close your eyes."

"What?"

"Just do it," I snapped.  "Like you're meditating."

He gave me an odd look.

"Just... trust me, ok?"


When he finally did as I told him, I clung to a memory that hadn't fled yet.  A memory of a song and actions I vaguely remember going with it.

The effect might not be the same, physically, but I'm hoping it will help him anyway.

"Deep breaths," I said.  "Let the noise outside melt away.  Just focus on my voice."

I took a deep breath.  This might be easier since he had his eyes closed.


"Take a moment to think of just,

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