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Toph and Penance are back at their campsite. Sokka has to admit he isn't quite sure where this Metropolis is any more, or if they're even driving in the right direction -- but nobody really minds. There's plenty of food and water around, they've still got heaps of spare fuel, and all four teens are having the time of their lives racketing around the countryside.

Currently Claire is teaching Sokka a few more of the finer points of driving. Or at least, that's their excuse. There's a lot of laughing and the occasional squeal -- WHICH IS TOTALLY NOT FROM SOKKA, NUH UH -- as they rattle along the road and occasionally come to a screeching halt.

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Toph concentrates for a second, then nods.

"There's one about a day's journay that way," she says, pointing west.

"Which is about an hour in the car, I guess."

(Wait, are they holding hands? When did those two become hand holding buddies?)

Sokka turns back towards Claire, shutting his eyes and wrapping both arms around her, almost desperate. Needy. Something.

"Will you drive?"

Someone needs to hold Katara.

Claire wraps her arms around him in return, nodding aquiesence even though she's not sure what exactly is going on. When did this become her supporting him?

"Sure."

"Thanks."

He holds on to her, tight, and takes a deep, deep breath.

"She's ... we'll take her there. It'll be ... it'll be okay."

Sokka's not sure if he's comforting her or himself. Probably her, really.

Probably.

Claire rises onto the balls of her feet to kiss his foreh... OK, his nose.

"It'll be OK," she repeats.

Because they're together and they can stick together and none of them were hurt.

He nods quietly against her hair.

He doesn't believe it in the slightest. But kisses are nice. He's not even aware of Toph behind them; not with Claire there.

He won't let anything get her.

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