Jack D. & Jhonny W. (Original link)

Author: Kirschreich
Rating: T
Characters: Ozai
Genre: Angst

The bottle is empty. Mr. Daniels has officially left the building. Ozai grabs another bottle (Why hello Mr. Walker) and unsrews the top.

His wife hated it when he drank. It made his kisses taste funny, she'd say.

Ozai chugs back the first glass. He shouldn't by doing this; he needs a clear head, needs his wits, his five senses, but he doesn't care. He's hurt and he's damn well going to do what he thinks will take the pain away. He should have asked for one of those pills they've been feeding Zuko.

Iroh keeps telling him that Ursa wouldn't have wanted this - he doesn't have to be specific because nowadays, there's a lot happening in his life that Ursa wouldn't have wanted. She wouldn't have wanted him to get drunk every other night. She wouldn't have wanted him to abandon their son, to punish him by sending him away and taking away everything he's known and cared for.

But Ozai is driven by a petty urge for revenge and Johnny and Jack are very inspiring - Zuko has taken all that Ozai ever knew and cared for. An eye for an eye. Now they're even.

He knows, of course, that if it were the other way, if Azula were the one lying in hospital and he himself were dead, Ursa and Zuko and all of Azula's friends would be there for her. Ursa always wanted the same for both of their children.

But it's Zuko strapped down in that bed; Zuko, whom he had trusted because he's shown time and time again that he is smart enough to know what is right and what is wrong, Zuko who should have known better, Zuko who almost killed Ursa with his birth, back then when they hadn't been married, Zuko who took away all Ozai had ever wanted.

It was an accident, Iroh insists and deep down, Ozai knows its the truth. But that doesn't make it better, doesn't make it any different. Because Ursa is gone. She's never coming back.

His bottled friends won't change a thing, won't take away the hurt. But for a while, they make him forget that the other side of his bed is empty, that his wife is not tucking the children in, that she will not come to his study in a few minutes to massage his shoulders and tell him it's enough and to call it a day.

Try as he might, however, no amount of alcohol can make him forget the sight of her burned, lifeless body or the sound of her voice, giddy with excitement when she called him at the office shortly before the fire broke out.

"I think I'm pregnant."