Her dark hair fanned out around her on the coral-hued pillows, her arms at her sides, her face smooth and unexpressive. It was a sort of peace that one gets after death, though she lacked the lifeless grey complexion of a corpse. The scarlet blanket was pulled up to her chest, where her burn mark peeked out from the edge. Yesterday's tea, now cold, sat untouched on a tray that was perched atop the bedside table.

A young girl dressed in green armor with a face painted white entered what had once been the bedroom of the deranged princess, and lifted the tray and carried it out. It had been nearly a year now, and yet nobody seemed ready to move on.

In came the retired general, a tray of steaming jasmine-mint tea, and a bundle of lotus flowers and fire lilies. He sat the tray on the table and sat on the edge of the large bed. He remembered this young woman as the headstrong little girl he had raised at sea, the stubborn little waterbender that refused control her tongue. Now, he must remember her as the young hero that had sacrificed herself to give her friends a fighting chance.

His chest heaved as he watched her lay motionless. First, he had lost his son to battle. Now, he suffered the loss of a girl he had considered a daughter. He suffered the loss of another loved one to war.

His voice broke the silence, though he remained quiet:

"Leaves from the vine, falling so slow

Like fragile, tiny shells

Drifting in the foam.

Little fighter girl, comes marching home.

My brave, fighter girl...

Come marching home..."

He took a deep breath. He no longer wanted to cry. Death was not final, but the pain was still a constant.

The door creaked open as the Fire Lord, Avatar, and their friends entered the bedroom. They all circled the bed, eyes glued to the unmoving girl. Silence resided over the room once again.

"It's been a year," murmured a gloomy girl, her hand intertwined with the Fire Lord's. "Aren't we just getting our hopes up?"

"No," the Avatar said with certainty. "I can feel something. It gets a little stronger every day."

"Maybe we are, though," the gloomy girl frowned, her voice low. "We're getting our hopes up, I mean. We come in here, and we only end up disappointed. It's a waste, pointless. She would say the same thing."

"Don't say that!" The Water Tribe boy snapped. "You didn't know her like we did!"

"Sokka..." his sister frowned at him, and they mirrored each other's sad expression.

"As much as I love a good fight, this isn't the time or place," the smallest girl said, staring straight ahead. "It isn't solving anything."

The Water Tribe girl nodded, then suggested, "We should go. We have to meet with the Earth King in a couple of hours."

As everyone left, the Fire Lord stayed behind with his uncle. "I wonder if she can hear us," the Fire Lord thought aloud. "I don't want anyone saying anything negative in here again. She needs hope."

The old man frowned, hand rested on his nephew's shoulder. "Perhaps it is you that needs hope, much more than she. Come, Zuko. Let's leave her be and join your friends."

"I'll catch up with you all later, Uncle," said the Fire Lord. "The healers will be here any minute now." His uncle nodded and quietly left the room, closing the large door behind him. The Fire Lord looked down at her face, his hand rested on hers. He remembered sending troops to search for her after Sokka had shared the disheartening news. He still wondered why she voluntarily plummeted into the ocean. Was she that miserable? He frowned, blinking away the tears that stung at his eyes. He stroked the back of his hand against her cheek, and muttered quietly:

"Little lotus, drifting in the water.

Gently floating through the waves,

Slowly going further.

Little lotus, floating off somewhere.

Soft hands lift the fragile flower,

And place it in a lovely girl's hair."

He plucked one of the lotus flowers from the arrangement beside her bed, and tucked it into her hair, just behind her ear. He stood, tears silently sliding alone his cheek.

As the daily healers entered the room and he turned away to leave, he could've sworn he'd seen her smile.