On reflection, maybe she should have put the note up earlier. Before she actually started throwing her weight around. Before she actually started making decisions Zuko would have taken to the council. But now she faces actually talking to people, justifying herself, and... well, the usual issues that come with these meetings.

So it's understandable her stomach is turning itself in knots as she brings chairs, and water up onto the bunker roof. Something to do to stop her pacing. She doesn't think much about the set up - assuming people with cluster as they wish when they arrive. But she herself leans against a table set apart from the chairs, sitting on her hands to stop them turning her stakes over in worry.

This sucks.

Out in the outermost fields of the Cooper farm, there is an epic discovery being made.

Penge the Otterpenguin stands on top of a molehill, surveying the entire field in front of him. He's been travelling for weeks, months, years to find this place, and now he has found the promised sanctuary!

We will rule over this land, he seems to be saying, and we shall call it this land!

I think we should call it YOUR GRAVE! declares Dino, before visiously attacking his wooden friend.

Penge cries out against Dino's sudden betrayal, as admittedly inevitable as it is, while Dino laughs evilly.

Unfortunately, the only witness to this bloody murder is sixteen months old and not really capable of telling anyone, about it. Also, it amuses her far too much, given her squeals of joy.

Mel, taking a break from the hard work of ploughing the field, is lying on her side, watching Hana playing with half an eye and a full smile. Life is good.

The girls dropped off to sleep eventually, curled up together against Zuko's comforting warmth. Mel, having assigned herself the first watch, left them reluctantly, pulling a new shirt on instead of the torn one and dropping back down to Street level to gather her dropped stakes.

Now she's crouching at the edge of the roof, listening to the reassuring snores of the sleepers, and staring out over the street, alert and watching.

It's almost meditation.

Stupid babies.

Stupid bed rest.

Stupid stupid Chinese readers.
Equally stupid Fire Nation script.

Mel's hot, flustered, uncomfortable and bored with trying to learn languages with weird writing. But there's very little else to do, and maybe she'd be inclined to disobey the order of bed rest if she didn't feel so shit right now.

And there's very little else to occupy the time between visits, other than the occasional glare at the door, when it fails to open and provide a new visitor.

There's a balance to be achieved between putting up with normal discomfort during pregnancy and recognising when something's actually wrong. You can either be blasé about it or panic at every little twinge.

Mel hasn't quite figured out where to draw the line yet. You'd have thought that after nearly losing both her babies she would err on the side of paranoia, but that's not really her style. So she's ignored the discomforts, complained little, and doesn't say a word about how she can no longer stand to be under the blanket in the bedroom, nor about how she's awake long into the night, sweating uncomfortably with her rising body heat.

She let the meeting finish, never once volunteering an opinion or an emotion.

Then she let people leave.

The she disappeared to 1505 for a while, where she slept fitfully.

Eventually, Mel makes her way downstairs in the quiet night-shrouded building, letting herself into her apartment and curling up on her bed.

Part of her worries about her lover. A larger part tells her it's useless to worry.

No.

No, she can't believe it. She can't, she won't. She can't let her hopes rise. She can't lose him again. She can't trust anything.

She's in no hurry when she strides outside, towards the basketball courts. After all, the people who use it most are actually in the War Council, and she knows where you can't see anything from 103.

Because she's certain that there's going to be something to watch by the time she's finished with those dummies.

Mel doesn't keep a diary. And she doesn't says some things out loud. So some things just don't make their way out of Mel's head. Not ever.

He was right. I have replaced him. I replaced him and I stand by that replacement. But every time I think about it, it tears me up inside. Because I still love him. And I hate to admit that I could love another brother as much. Everytime I think 'I wish he had been more like this', I want to kill myself.

I should have killed him. I should have killed him if it meant the deaths of Zuko, Kaylee, or little Iroh/Louise. I should have killed him because letting him live has killed more people than I can ever save.

She's better than me. And I don't know why she insists on saying I'm anything like her. I've seen her move. It all comes natural to her. I'm just a radie freak, and I wish they'd let me be that.

I'm never ever going to get used to the way she stands behind him so silently. Not now I know what she can do. She suits him better, and I'm waiting for him to realise that. Assuming he hasn't already.

I'm going to be a horrible terrible mother. Every time I want to do something but can't, I feel myself resenting the pregnancy. And this means I'm going to resent my baby, and I don't want to resent my baby.

I'm scared of what will happen when we stop loving each other.

[OOC: Aphartimed to after this, thanks to me being useless]

If this were Haddyn, Mel would have gone to a tav, got blindingly drunk and beaten up some unsuspecting pump. Or a tav full of them. Under other circumstances, she might have gone to Zuko, but he's preoccupied with his illness, and doesn't need to worry about it. And what would she say to him? 'I'm sorry I saved your life'?

You've got a choice now. Keep fighting me, or go after him, and hope you'll get him back before he dies.

He's ill, anyway. More ill than even she was when she had morning sickness. She can't disturb him with this. She can't disturb anyone with this. She knows what they'll all say. Or at least, she thinks she does, because on the trip back up to 1505, she has plenty of time to rehearse everyone's reactions to her doubts in her mind. Zuko's, Sokka's, Hellboy's, Erin's. Everyone would tell her their take on it, but that's not the point. The point is she was selfish and wrong, and she should have killed him, no matter what the risk to her or her baby or the people she loved.

You shouldn't have taken that risk. Not for me.

1505 is empty. So is the whole of the 15th floor, still. Her old room is also in no real stated to live in - there's not an item of furniture that hasn't been smashed or broken by a violent fit, since she's designated it as her stress relief room. Worse of all is the bed she once shared with her creepy dead evil twin brother. That's nothing more than splinters now.

You should have killed him when you had a chance.

But she's not looking for violence now. Not by the time she gets there. She just crawls into the hammock she strung up the first night she arrived, taking one pillow to support her stomach and sore breasts, and another to cram into her mouth. To cram into her mouth as she screams, silently and furiously, screams out all the guilt and frustration and anger at herself and at others. Screams until she has nothing else to give, until all she can do is melt into tears and cry until she sleeps.

She doesn't really know whether she shold be sulking or smiling when she comes in after talking to Sokka. They're nearly ready to go, to bring destruction down on the farm, to get rid of the threat once and for all, and to bring Erin home.

But she's not allowed to go. She could go. She could rain down havoc on the Magog. Even Harth. She can take them. She's one of the best fighters they have. Instead she has to stay home and play incubator.

It's not fair.

But she concentrates on the first. On getting the job done. Thats' the important part. It'll be OK.