Fall of the White Lotus [Zutara/Taang]

16 | Rocking Chair

Music: Forever More, Two Steps From Hell

                    He was rocking. Back. Forth. Back again.

It was a gentle, comforting feeling, and drowsiness slowly took over as his body obediently swayed to the external force. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Zuko knew that there was a world outside the rocking movement, but all he wanted - all he needed - right now was to stay in this moment. To experience nothing more than the arms holding him and the soft voice whispering soothing words to him that he couldn't understand. He wanted to forget about the pain he felt, lost in the repetitive movement that controlled and dulled his senses.

From the darkness of despair, a long-forgotten memory drifted to the surface of his mind. An image of his mother sitting in a rocking chair, her eyes closed as she hummed a sweet lullaby. She seemed to glow in the afternoon sun shining down on her, and she wore a slight smile as she cradled her little boy - himself - in her arms. The strands of her silky black hair brushed the delicate skin of his youthful face as she leaned over her toddler to press a kiss to his forehead, his head resting on her upper arm.

Back and forth. Ever the same movement, keeping him in this moment, and he wished it would last forever.

But inevitably, the memory of his mother started to merge with the gentle sway he was feeling now as the hues of gold and red coloring the background of his memory slowly shifted to calming blues and silvers. The musky scent of fire lilies faded into the fresh one of water lilies, the silky strands gently brushing his cheek changing into soft curls.

Then he remembered.

The unbearable pain overtaking all his senses again, and the moment his consciousness had left his body in defense. He remembered the soft arms that circled around him as whispered pleas called out to him, demanding that he return to her. 

He didn't want to respond to the voice pulling him back from where the memories of excruciating pain couldn't get to him. But somehow, he found that he was unable to resist the sound of her voice calling out to him. He wanted to follow the voice that told him that it was alright, that he was safe because he was with her, and he felt that he wanted to believe it more than anything in the world.

He slowly became aware of the protective hold of her arms as she dispelled the nameless anxiety lurking in the corners of his mind with her soft whispers, and he tentatively followed the sound of her voice calling him back to her.

A lone tear escaped from his good eye.

Then he heard an agonizing scream.

The sound, like an animal in its death throes, ripped through the air and cut through his senses, sounding as if it came from somewhere outside his body. His breathing became ragged as waves of nausea followed the flood of emotions washing over him with overwhelming force. Little stars started to dance behind his eyes when he squeezed them shut.

Years ago, Zuko had defied rain and thunder when he'd climbed to the mountain where he'd cried out all the pent up grief and rage. The relief it had brought him had been just enough to hesitantly open himself towards an alternative path from the one his father had forced upon him. A path he'd followed ever since.

The rest of the emotions, however, had remained slumbering in his subconscious, waiting for the day to find its way out. Waiting, he now knew, for that moment when Katara's arms would be wrapped around him, her gentle voice guiding him through the agony.

Zuko started to shiver all over, his throat suddenly seeming to be on fire.

Vaguely, he registered her voice saying, "Shush, it's alright, Zuko."