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Chapter Text

Pohuai Stronghold was said to be impenetrable. The Yuyan Archers guarded its perimeter with hawk eyes and even quicker hands, ready to unleash a string of arrows that never missed their mark. Then there were the hundreds of warriors that patrolled the inside of the walls, all of whom had been handpicked for their dedication and skill. Zuko knew this. He'd known this every time he had snuck into the fortress, but he had learnt long ago how to become one with the shadows and move with the stealth of a panther-fox. Not even the Fire Nation's best could keep him out if he really wanted to get in, and in this case the dangers of being captured or killed were definitely worth the risk.

It had not taken him long to locate his target: the Avatar had been locked in one of the high-priority prisons, suspended by thick chains. Zuko had wasted no time in freeing him and dragging him off towards the exit, though he had been careful not to reveal his identity. It would be too much of a hassle to get out if the Avatar was resisting. Much easier to act like a friend or, at the very least, as if he really were enacting a rescue mission. Too bad the alarm had been triggered before they could escape.

"Hold your fire!"

It was Admiral Zhao. Zuko turned his head sharply, fingers digging into the hilts of his blades as Admiral Zhao stopped in front of the line of firebenders.

"The Avatar must be captured alive!"

Without pausing to think, Zuko sprung forward and thrust his swords under the Avatar's neck, positioning the blades so that he could slit his throat in one quick swipe. For a moment no one dared move, shocked at this sudden turn of events. Zuko could feel the small body trembling against him, but he paid no heed to that and stared at Zhao through the slits of his mask, daring the older man to call his bluff, if it even was a bluff. Zuko wasn't really sure in that moment, half-distracted as he was by the adrenaline pumping through his veins. All he knew was that he was not about to surrender the Avatar just because they'd been cornered. He'd rather spend the next three years of his life searching for a new master of all elements.

Something in his posture must have tipped Zhao off, because he was suddenly giving the order for the gates to be opened.

"Admiral, what are you doing?" Colonel Shinu exclaimed.

"Let them out!" Zhao growled. "Now!"

The gate opened like creaking jaws behind Zuko. Very cautiously, he walked backwards with the Avatar through the gap, not once taking his eyes off Zhao. None of the soldiers made a move.

Something wasn't right here. There was no way Zhao would let them go that easily.

"Look," the Avatar breathed. "The gate is closing."

Zuko said nothing and continued to lead him backwards, still holding the blades close to his throat. Zuko wasn't about to give up his advantage simply because they were outside the stronghold. He knew Zhao would still be watching. One wrong move and they'd be surrounded all over again, and he had by no means forgotten about the Yuyan Archers.

He threw a glance over his shoulder and was relieved to see they were almost at the crossroads. Just a little farther and they could make a break for the woods.

"Look out!"

Zuko turned his head just in time to see an arrow spiralling towards him. There was no time to duck, no time to defend.

Except the impact never came.

It only took a second for Zuko to realise that his broadswords had been pushed aside and that the small body pressed against his chest was leaning on him a lot more heavily than it had been two steps ago. Before he could process this, another arrow whirred towards them and he quickly rolled out of the way, pulling the Avatar with him. His heart pounded sickeningly when he saw the steal tip of the arrow bury itself into the ground just inches from his face. That had been too close.

"We need to get to the woods," the Avatar gasped, disentangling himself.

Zuko nodded and stood, sheathing his broadswords into the scabbard strapped to his back before he reached down and yanked the Avatar to his feet. Shouts could be heard from within Pohuai Stronghold and then the gates opened and figures in red burst through the gap like lava oozing from a volcano. Zuko's stomach twisted in dismay. Was this ever going to end?

"Hold on!" the Avatar yelled over the din. "I'll give us some cover!"

Dust and dirt gathered to form a cloud-like veil, blocking the two boys from the view of firebender and archer alike. Zuko had no time to be impressed. A hand latched around his wrist and pulled him forward, dragging him at an unnatural speed towards the woods. Only the slight breeze lifting his feet stopped him from falling flat on his face. He realised the Avatar must be using airbending to help him keep pace. It was an alarming and uncomfortably humbling discovery. He'd always prided himself on his independence and speed.

Branches snagged at the two as they crashed their way through the trees, though the barrier of wind protected them from taking too much damage. In the distance, Zuko could hear the yells of the men hunting them, but either Zhao's warriors took a wrong turn and got lost in the woods or the Avatar really was that fast, because soon the noises faded and all Zuko could hear was the rustling of leaves and the laboured gasps of his companion breathing.

Suddenly, the barrier of wind stuttered in front of them and Zuko stumbled to the ground. The Avatar pitched forward onto his knees, groaning and clutching a hand to his shoulder. Zuko's eyes widened when he saw the metal shaft sticking out from between the boy's fingers.

"No!" Zuko exclaimed, forgetting his rule to be silent. "Don't pull it!"

But it was too late. The Avatar wrenched the arrow free with a choked cry and rolled onto his back, legs curling up towards his chest as he whimpered in pain. Zuko slapped his hand away before the idiot could do any further damage. He crouched to examine the injury. Blood spurted from the wound in sticky globs, making it almost impossible to see anything. Zuko let out a small hiss of unease. Had the arrow pierced an artery?

Feverish grey eyes stared at him. "Is it bad?"

Zuko shook his head, not quite trusting himself to speak. With each drop of blood, he could see his visions of honour and home slipping away. He had no medical herbs on him, no bandages. Nothing but two swords and a mortally wounded Avatar who, Zuko thought in torn disgust, really was nothing more than a stupid child. A stupid child who had decided to throw himself in the way of an arrow that had never been meant for him.

Focus! a voice said in his mind, sounding a lot like his uncle. Don't let your feelings cloud your ability to think!

Zuko exhaled and closed his eyes. Right. Breathe in and out, in and out. Put aside fear. Put aside all emotion. Now come up with a solution to fix this mess.

His eyes snapped open and he clamped his hands down on the wound, trying to staunch the flow. Blood spilled through his fingers, warm and slippery, and not for the first time did he curse Aang for removing the arrow without first checking to see if it was safe. Just like a naïve, impulsive child. Didn't that kid ever think? Then again, he had been chasing frozen frogs.

Zuko's gaze drifted to the grey-tinged face. He couldn't help but notice how small and fragile the Avatar looked, like one of Azula's dolls before she incinerated it to ashes. It was an unnerving image, especially since Zuko was well aware of the power the Avatar could wield when pushed. Strange how one arrow could change so much. Of course, because of that same arrow, the Avatar's fate was now resting in his hands, as was Zuko's own chances of returning home. The spirits certainly had a twisted sense of humour. Not that Zuko found anything amusing about his current predicament. Blood continued to pump out of the open gash, no matter how much pressure he applied, and the Avatar appeared to be barely conscious.

Ignoring the steel fingers of panic that squeezed down on his mind, Zuko kept one hand pressed firmly on the wound and used his free hand to grasp the Avatar by the wrist, feeling for a pulse. A weak flutter greeted his blood-smeared fingertips. He paled as he realised he was running out of time. The Avatar was losing too much blood.

"Damn it!" Zuko growled, reapplying both hands to the wound. "Don't you dare die on me, Avatar!"

His only response was a flicker of grey eyes. Frustration and fear coiled its way through Zuko's veins, spreading through his body with paralysing venom. This could not be happening. That damned, idiot of an airbender could not be dying. Not now. Not like this. Not when he was so close.

"Snap out of it!" Zuko yelled, giving him a shake. "You're the Avatar, aren't you? So fight! Use your damn powers and save yourself!"

The Avatar's head lolled to the side, but there were no glowing arrows, no luminescent eyes. It seemed that even the all-powerful Avatar could not stop nature from taking its course. Zuko gritted his teeth. His heart pounded frantically in his chest as he pressed his palms harder against the wound, desperately trying to stop the blood from spilling out. If only the blood would go back in. If only he could seal up the artery and stitch the skin back together. It would all be alright then. It would all be okay.

"Come on," Zuko whispered, glaring as tears rolled down his cheeks, hidden by the cover of his mask.

So much of his hopes were resting on this child's life. So many dreams. If that heart stopped, if those lungs ceased to breathe. He could already envision what would happen. More years spent on a ship with a mutinying crew and an uncle who just wanted to drink tea all day and play Pai Sho. More ugly ice planes and frozen waters. More darkness. More searching—always searching—and never, never being able to return home.

"No." Zuko squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head. "I won't have it. I won't!"

He could still feel the warmth of the Avatar's life force pulsing into his palms. As he knelt there with his eyes closed, just willing the blood to go back to where it belonged, something stirred to life inside him—a fragile flicker of fire that seemed to spark from the very centre of his being. Like a tiny sun it burned, small at first, but then the flames began to expand as tendrils of heat spread throughout his body, filling him with a radiant energy. He realised that the fire was gathering in his hands, reaching out towards the source of that wounded, pulsing warmth. Trying to connect.

Fire is life.

The words sprang unbidden to his mind. Though he had no idea where he had heard the phrase, something just seemed to click. Exhaling deeply, Zuko focussed his attention on the bloody gash under his palms and felt a sharp tug on his gut. But no, it wasn't really his gut. More like something had reached into his very essence and was now pulling strands of fire from deep within him to form a bridge to the wound. He could feel pain and blood mixed in with airy whispers, but, more than that, he could feel the gaping chasm where chi should have flowed in the other boy's body, and which his own burning sun was now instinctively trying to fill.

Zuko's breathing sharpened as he struggled to make sense of what was happening. The sheer energy radiating through his veins was as exhilarating as it was terrifying, but it was also becoming increasingly painful. There was too much tugging, too much pulling. He felt like his soul was being ripped out from him, like his inner sun was being stripped bare of all its heat, leaving him empty and vulnerable and so terribly cold.

Panicking, Zuko tried to break the threads that linked him with the Avatar, but it was as if an invisible chain had lashed them together. By the time he finally managed to stop the connection, black dots were swarming before his eyes and he was conscious of a loud ringing in his ears.

When he tried to stand, Prince Zuko passed out cold.

oOo

Everything hurt. Aang groaned and opened his eyes, blinking a few times to gather his bearings. He seemed to be in some kind of clearing of trees and, judging by the pinkish tinge to the sky, it was just after dawn. Shaking his head to clear some of the dizziness, he sat up and saw a man in black sprawled out on the ground beside him. The grinning blue mask glinted wickedly at him. He gasped as memories flooded back into his mind: Zhao taking him prisoner, being chained in Pohuai Stronghold, the masked warrior coming to rescue him, the arrow, and then—

"My wound!" Aang exclaimed.

He shoved his blood-stained cape aside and examined the spot where the arrow had punctured skin. Streaks of dried blood covered most of the area, but though his shoulder throbbed and was tender to touch, there didn't appear to be any hole. Eyes widening, he quickly licked his finger and rubbed away the reddish-brown marks. A patch of rough, barely healed skin revealed itself, looking raw and shiny.

Shaken, Aang let his cape fall back to cover his shoulder and stared down at the masked figure near his feet. He couldn't remember everything that had happened last night, but the hazy images flickering in his mind told him enough to know that he owed the mysterious warrior his life. That still didn't explain how the man had known to rescue him or why he was now lying on the ground with all the appearance of one knocked unconscious.

"Hey," Aang said, poking the masked man in the ribs. "You alright under there?"

Masky, as Aang had decided to call him, didn't so much as flinch. Aang frowned and rested his chin on his hands. Maybe the guy was just sleeping. He was definitely breathing, except Aang still felt uneasy. Something weird had happened last night. There was no way an ugly arrow wound like that could just disappear, except somehow it had. Somehow, this mysterious man in the blue mask had healed him.

Aang stared through the hollow slits of the mask, trying to see past the darkness to the person beyond. Impulse made him reach out his hand towards the grinning face, but then he hesitated, chewing on his bottom lip as doubt gnawed at him. The monks had told him that one should always respect a person's privacy. This man was obviously wearing his mask for a reason. It would be wrong to breach that trust.

"Ah, one peek can't hurt," Aang decided, brushing aside his concerns. "I'll just make sure he's okay ..."

He gripped the cold wood and pulled—

And immediately regretted his decision.

"No," Aang breathed, stumbling backwards and dropping the mask with a clatter. "No, no, no!"

He felt sick. He felt angry, but more than that he felt confused. Because there was no mistaking that pale, angular face, nor the red scar that skewed the left half of the teenager's features. It was Zuko, the Prince of the Fire Nation, and the same guy who had been hunting Aang since he had first woken up in Katara's arms.

Shaking his head in denial, Aang leapt to his feet and made to bolt through the trees, but then he froze. Zuko might have chased him all over the world with the intent of capturing him, but Masky—Masky who was still Zuko at heart—had come to free him when Aang had thought no one else would. Masky had healed him.

Sighing, Aang turned around and walked back to where Zuko lay unconscious. He sat down on a nearby tree root and hugged his knees to his chest, occasionally throwing wary glances at Zuko. Maybe Sokka was right in calling Zuko an angry jerk with a ponytail, but Aang figured the least he could do was hear the older boy out. Perhaps Zuko had undergone a change of heart. Perhaps he was willing to help them now.

Perhaps ...

oOo

Something warm was touching Zuko's face, renewing him with heat and much-needed energy.

Sunlight, his mind supplied.

Yes, that was it. Sunlight. Zuko opened his eyes and was dazzled by the golden beams that streamed through the gaps in the trees. He winced and rubbed a hand over his face, pained by the intensity of the glare. Maybe he'd hit his head. That would explain the sharp throbbing at the base of his skull.

Groaning softly, he turned his face and saw a familiar boy perched on a tree root, hugging his knees to his chest. A frown creased Zuko's brow, but the Avatar did not glance his way.

"You know what the worst part of being born over a hundred years ago is," the Avatar commented, as if the two of them had been conversing the whole time. "I miss all the friends who I used to hang out with. Before the war started, I used to always visit my friend Kuzon. He was one of the best friends I ever had …" A glance towards Zuko. "And he was from the Fire Nation, like you."

Zuko said nothing. He didn't understand why he was being told this, but then a shy smile tugged at the corners of the Avatar's mouth.

"If we knew each other back then," the Avatar continued in a warm, hopeful kind of voice, "do you think we could have been friends, too?"

Grey eyes locked with gold, and it was as if a thousand unspoken words passed between them. Then the image of a man sitting on a throne surrounded by flames flickered in Zuko's mind, reminding him of his task. Reminding him of his destiny.

Zuko curled his hand into a fist. In an instant, he was back on his feet and a ball of flames burst from his fist. The Avatar dodged the attack and leapt up into the trees, jumping from branch to branch with all the speed and grace of a master airbender. Frowning, Zuko dropped his hand back to his side and watched the boy vanish from view, knowing it was futile to pursue him, knowing that he didn't really want to pursue him. Even his fireball had seemed weak, as if the anger needed to channel the attack just hadn't been there.

His jaw tightened and he glared at the space where he had last seen the Avatar, remembering that shy, stupid smile and the innocent offer of friendship that had come with it. Just like a naïve child.

Zuko turned his back on the trees. "We can never be friends, Avatar," he said flatly.

The Fire Lord had set him a mission. Zuko would not disappoint his father again.

Still, there was one thing that Zuko did not understand. He raised his bloodstained hands to his face and examined his palms, remembering the connection that had surged between himself and the boy. Remembering how the fire within him had reached out to the wound and then tried to fill that gaping chasm inside.

Zuko swallowed and his heart quickened in his chest. "Did I … did I really heal him?"

There was no one to give him an answer, yet the simple fact that the Avatar had managed to dance through the trees like a leaf on the wind suggested the boy had very much been healed. Zuko wondered if he could talk to his uncle about it, but then he realised Iroh would just ask him too many questions, and how was he supposed to explain that he had broken into Pohuai Stronghold to rescue—no, kidnap—the Avatar and then had somehow ended up healing the brat as well? He didn't even know that firebenders could heal. That was supposed to be a waterbending technique, and even then it was rare.

Zuko growled in frustration and threw his hands up in the air. "This is impossible!"

The whole situation made no sense. In fact, nothing about last night made sense. He would do better to put the matter from his mind. That was what his instructors would tell him: put aside all distractions and just focus on the task at hand. So what if the Avatar had spared his life by taking that arrow for him. So what if he had somehow managed to stop said Avatar from dying with spirits knew what kind of power. It had happened, and now he had to move on.

Zuko sighed and collected his mask from the ground, then headed back to his river boat to change out of his blood-stained clothes. Upon returning to the main vessel, he told his uncle that he was going to bed and was not to be disturbed.

It was a long time before he fell asleep.

Chapter Text

The frog was staring at him. Aang turned his back on the inquisitive amphibian and continued to scrub his shirt and cape clean, dunking the cloth back into the stream when necessary. Right now he didn't want to look at a frog, frozen or otherwise, for a long, long time. Though, to be fair, it wasn't the frog's fault that he had been captured, bound with chains, and then finally rescued by one of his most dangerous adversaries. No, that mistake was all his.

"I'm so stupid," Aang muttered, rubbing harder at the red patches mottling his cape. "I should have known Zuko hadn't really changed." Scrub, scrub scrub. "I mean, he's been chasing me all over the world. He's always trying to capture me, and setting things on fire, and—"

The soap slipped out of Aang's hand and was carried away by the current, where it bobbed up and down in the water with a taunting kind of glee. Aang made a strangled sound of frustration and threw his clothes in a heap on the rock beside him. It seemed like nothing was going right for him at the moment. Even the stupid bar of soap was against him!

A ribbon of water glided past him, plucking out the foamy bar from the stream and then brought it back towards the shore. Surprised, Aang turned his head to see Katara close her hand around the soap and glance at him with a smile. Instead of grinning in return, as he normally would have done, he hugged his knees to his chest and looked back at the stream. There was an awkward silence as he ignored her, even though he could feel her staring at his back. She came and sat down beside him.

"Hey," she said, nudging him with her elbow. "What's wrong?"

Aang rested his chin on his knees, frowning at the ripples swirling in the water. "I don't want to talk about it."

She placed a hand on his arm. "Is it the nightmares again?"

He shook his head.

"Then what?"

He said nothing. He didn't want to think about what had happened last night, let alone discuss it. For the first time, he wished Katara would just leave him alone.

She sighed and picked up his discarded clothes, resuming scrubbing where he had left off. He stared at his feet and tried to ignore the wriggly, clenching feeling in his stomach. Try as he might, he could not get his conversation with Zuko out of his head. Just thinking about how quickly Zuko had thrown that fireball at him made his heart feel so terribly heavy, and he wasn't sure why. He'd always known Zuko was his enemy. It shouldn't hurt this much that he had been rejected. Except it did. It really did.

"Wait a minute," Katara muttered.

He blinked and saw her raise the orange cape to her eyes.

"Are those—are those blood stains?" she demanded.

Aang froze, his whole body tensing as if preparing for flight. Katara turned a pair of flashing blue eyes on him and he squirmed guiltily, feeling like he was being read inside and out. She gasped in outrage.

"They are, aren't they?" She bunched the stained cloth in her fist.

Aang held his hands up in an appeasing gesture. "Katara, I can explain—"

"You'd better explain!" She poked him hard in the ribs. "Yesterday you said you were just going to visit the herbalist. Now I find you've got blood all over your clothes and—" The fury died in her eyes and she latched her fingers around his upper left arm. "Aang," she breathed, covering her mouth with one hand. "Oh, Aang, what happened to your shoulder?"

Aang glanced down at the discoloured patch of skin where his wound used to be. Now that he'd washed all the blood away it just looked pink and rough, like the gnarled grooves on a tree trunk. He couldn't really complain, though. If Zuko hadn't healed him, he'd most likely be dead right now. Having a scar was a small price to pay.

"Aang," Katara repeated in a low voice, dropping his bloodstained clothes and taking his hands in hers. "What really happened last night?"

Their eyes met. He found himself trapped by the sheer concern and warmth he could see reflected in her expression. He exhaled softly, realising he could not keep this secret to himself any longer. At least, not when she was looking at him like that.

"I got caught," he confessed. "Admiral Zhao—you know that mean guy with the huge side-burns who came after us at the Fire Temple?"

She nodded.

"Well, he sent these archers after me and they were good. Really good. They got me while I was looking for some frogs for you and Sokka in the swamp."

"Right," she said, drawing out the word in distaste as she released his hands. "The frogs."

He gave a sheepish smile, remembering how upset she and Sokka had been when they'd realised they'd been sucking on frozen swamp creatures. As Aang had pointed out, however, the frogs had worked. Sokka no longer thought he was an earthbender and the siblings' fevers had gone right down. Aang never did figure out why Katara had been wearing a crown.

"Anyway," Aang continued, lowering his gaze to stare at his twiddling thumbs. "The archers brought me back to this big fortress and Zhao locked me up in a cell. I couldn't move. I couldn't even airbend, really. And since you and Sokka were still sick and had no idea where I was, I knew I was as good as dead." He let out a breath and fell silent for a moment.

"What happened then?" she prompted, watching him closely.

"I—" He swallowed. "A warrior in a blue mask came. He ... he rescued me, but then the alarm went off while we were escaping. We had to fight all these soldiers, and …" His shoulders slumped forward and he again fell silent, though his thumbs moved round and round more frantically than ever.

Katara closed her fingers over his hands, halting the nervous motions. "Tell me," she said softly.

His voice was very small when he spoke. "They were going to shoot him, Katara. Just like that. I saw the arrow coming for his head and I didn't think. I just moved."

"So that's how you got hurt." A crease formed on her brow. "Wait a minute. If you got hit with an arrow last night, why does your wound look so ... patched up?"

Aang sucked in a breath. "Because he healed me."

"What?" Katara shook her head, though it seemed she was more confused than disbelieving. "How?"

"I don't know." He frowned and absently touched his hand to his shoulder, feeling the uneven skin under his fingertips. "I was barely conscious when it happened, but I remember warmth. Lots and lots of warmth." A shrug. "Anyway, when I woke up my injury was gone. We parted ways after that, so I came to help you guys."

Katara's frown deepened. "What a strange warrior. I can't believe he'd just rescue you like that and then leave. Did you at least manage to find out his identity?"

Aang was silent for a long moment. "No," he said, almost in a whisper. "I didn't."

She sighed. "That's too bad."

Aang said nothing. His stomach was doing that wriggly, clenching thing again and he knew it was because he had lied. He didn't even know why he had lied. The masked warrior's identity was no secret to him. He'd seen the scarred face underneath; he'd watched the flames rush towards him after his tentative offer of friendship had been rejected. But a part of Aang wanted to believe that Masky—the silent swordfighter who had freed him and then saved his life—still existed somewhere. A part of him wanted to believe that not everything was so black and white.

"If we knew each other back then, do you think we could have been friends?"

A fireball had answered him no, but as Aang ran his fingers over freshly healed skin, he couldn't help but wonder. Maybe his friend could still be found. Maybe it was the scarred, angry face he so often saw that was really the mask. Maybe the real Zuko was buried within, grinning through a swirl of blue and white.

A sad smile curled Aang's lips. He sure hoped so. It would be nice to have a Fire Nation friend again.

oOo

Zuko ducked the fireball coming for his face, feeling the heat glide over the back of his neck as he swivelled round to retaliate with a sharp kick. A small jet of flames bloomed forth. Before the attack could get anywhere near his opponent, his uncle stepped forward and brought his hand down in a slicing motion, snuffing the flames out as easily as a candle. Zuko straightened to his full height, indignation tingling through his veins as he glared at his uncle. How dare Uncle interrupt his training?

"What are you doing, Uncle?" he demanded, panting slightly as he tried to catch his breath.

Iroh gestured for Lieutenant Jee to stand down from sparring and then frowned at his nephew. "I have been watching you, Prince Zuko. You are not fighting at your usual level of skill. Your form is sloppy and your fire attacks are weak."

Zuko opened his mouth to retort, but Iroh held up an admonishing hand.

"No, Nephew, do not argue with me. You and I both know that there is no point continuing this training session if you will not focus. You will only get yourself hurt."

"I am focussed!"

"No, you're not." Iroh's face wrinkled with concern and he placed a hand on Zuko's shoulder, hesitating a moment before speaking. "If there is something troubling you, you know that—"

"There is nothing troubling me!" Zuko snapped, wrenching his shoulder free and turning his back on the older man.

Iroh sighed. "The wise komodo rhino knows when his burden is too much for him to carry alone."

Zuko’s eyes narrowed. "The wise komodo rhino also knows when to mind his own business."

Iroh stroked his beard, frowning thoughtfully. "Is this about Admiral Zhao? Because—"

"I don't care about Admiral Zhao!"

A painful silence followed. Zuko gripped the ship railing in front of him and glared at the ocean, still keeping his back to his uncle. Somehow, even just looking at that endless expanse of blue made him angrier. It was just another reminder of his failure, of his weakness. He tightened his grasp on the metal, jaw clenched with suppressed rage.

"Prince Zuko," Iroh began gently.

"Enough!" Zuko growled, swinging around to face him. "I don't need your proverbs, I don't need your tea, and I certainly don't need your comfort!"

Without waiting for a response, Zuko stepped away from his uncle and stalked back to his cabin, slamming the door shut behind him. The Fire Nation flag greeted his vision in all its red vibrancy. He squeezed his eyes shut, blocking out the image as he let his head fall back with a thud against the door. For a moment he just stood there like that, breathing in and out in deep, calming breaths to try to ease some of the turmoil pressing down on his mind. It didn't help.

Trembling slightly, he opened his eyes and let his fist fly forward in a basic punch. A pathetic puff of flames sprouted forth and then vanished in another instant. "Damn it!" he groaned, burying his face into his hands.

Just as he had feared, his firebending was indeed weaker. His uncle had accused him of not focussing or using the proper technique, but Zuko knew it was more than that. Ever since he had healed the Avatar, his ability to create fire had been more difficult. He could still feel the power there, waiting to be summoned, but it felt faint and subdued, as if his inner fire had been doused with cold water and was just barely clinging to life. Even creating a simple plume of flame seemed to take extreme effort and it didn't help that he felt continually exhausted either. He was like a starved plant trying to find the sun, desperate for any kind of warmth and nourishment, but all he ever seemed to find was an endless, empty darkness. It was terrifying.

Still, Zuko had not given up. As soon as he realised what was happening he had returned to his training, hoping that his weakened state was just a temporary phase and could be overcome with dedication and hard work. Now he couldn't help but wonder if that was just wishful thinking on his part. Being outside had helped—he'd certainly felt lighter and more energised—but his firebending was still a joke. He'd be lucky to have a meadow vole run for cover from one of his fireballs, let alone the Avatar and his friends.

Zuko gritted his teeth. "It will pass," he told himself sternly. "Stop acting so weak."

But still his hands trembled and a lump formed in his throat. He just didn't understand why this was happening to him. He could even admit that he was afraid. What if he lost his ability to firebend? What would become of him then? He'd already lost his home, his honour, his family. Was he supposed to lose the comfort of his inner fire as well?

There was a knock at the door. Zuko flinched back from the metal, only to scowl when he heard his uncle requesting permission to enter.

"I don't know why you're asking now," he responded sourly. "Needing my permission has never stopped you before."

A chuckle reverberated from the other side of the metal and then the door started to open. Alarmed, Zuko tried to plaster on some semblance of composure, but he wasn't quick enough. Iroh took one look at his face and then sighed in a way that Zuko both knew well and hated. Suddenly, he found himself being enfolded in a strong embrace, surrounding him with the scent of jasmine tea and old spices. He gritted his teeth and kept his arms clamped firmly to his sides, refusing to respond to the hug. His heart, however, was far from unaffected.

"Zuko," Iroh murmured, clasping him tighter to his chest. "I have always told you not to keep things bottled up, and I would be a poor uncle if I were not willing to listen. Please, tell me what’s wrong."

A tremor went through Zuko's body. He didn't want to say anything, didn't want to rely on another to get through the hardships of life when he knew that he should be overcoming them himself. But he was just so tired and scared. So sick with worry. In his heart, he knew that he didn't want to deal with this on his own.

"I don't know what's happening to me," he confessed in a surprisingly small voice. "I—you were right, Uncle. My firebending is weaker, but it's more than that. I—" He swallowed. "I think I'm losing my ability to call upon my inner fire. It feels so faint, and it hurts."

Iroh held Zuko back at arm's length. "How did this happen? When did your symptoms first start?"

Zuko shrugged helplessly. "Yesterday morning, I guess, and I'm not sure how it happened."

As much as he wanted to tell his uncle about his strange healing abilities, he just couldn't. Firebenders were not supposed to heal. Firebenders were fighters. They simply did not heal. Ever. Besides, as understanding as his uncle could be, somehow Zuko didn't think that the great Dragon of the West would appreciate why his nephew had chosen to sneak into a heavily guarded fortress to steal the Avatar, only to then have his firebending abilities almost snuffed out because he'd somehow stopped said Avatar from dying. No, his uncle would not understand at all. Much better to lie.

"I really don't know," Zuko stressed again, averting his gaze.

Iroh let go of Zuko's shoulders and frowned to himself, stroking his beard. "Well, I'm not sure how this has happened, but from your symptoms it sounds to me like you are suffering from chi deficiency."

Zuko blinked. "Chi deficiency?"

He'd never experienced the sickness before. It was said that over-bending in a short space of time or spending long periods in the poles during the months of darkness caused the sickness, but that was only for the weakest of firebenders. Most were fine. Still, if this was what chi deficiency felt like, he could appreciate why it was a problem. It was an exhausting and terrifying experience.

Iroh continued to stroke his beard, tilting his head from side to side as he examined his nephew. "Well, it's either that or you've been poisoned by the juices found in the petals of the rare nishoku flower, in which case you have about three days left before you die a slow and painful death."

The colour drained from Zuko's face, but he pulled himself together a second later. "Thank you, Uncle," he said dryly. "That is exactly what I needed to hear."

Iroh chuckled and patted Zuko on his arm. "Don't worry, Nephew. There is a simple way to tell if it's chi deficiency that is causing your problems."

"Really? How?"

A smile curved his uncle's mouth. The next thing Zuko knew he was stripped to just a red loincloth and was being forced to stand on the main deck, directly in the path of the afternoon sun. His crew were far too intimate with his temper to laugh, but that didn't mean Zuko couldn't feel their amused glances crawling all over his skin or hear their teasing comments. After an hour of such treatment, Zuko had enough.

"This is ridiculous," he snarled, folding his arms across his bare chest. "Uncle, how long do I have to stand here like this?"

Iroh, who had taken up residence on his favourite chair, now waved his fan lazily to and fro. "The best way to restore a firebender's chi levels is by absorbing sunlight through direct contact with the skin. We are simply speeding up that process." He smiled at his nephew's disgruntled expression. "I did tell you that you could lie down if you got uncomfortable, but you didn't want to."

Zuko gritted his teeth. "I am not going to lie down on this deck."

"Why not? I hear it's very relaxing. Just like sunbathing on the beach."

A growl and rather a lot of flames was all Iroh got in response. For a moment nephew and uncle just stared at each other, then Zuko's mouth twitched into a pleased grin.

"Uncle, did you see that?" he exclaimed, forgetting all about his previous frustration. "I managed to use the breath of fire! And the flames were actually hot!"

Iroh closed his fan and took a sip of his jasmine tea. "Well, it looks like we can rule out nishoku poisoning."

oOo

Two more days passed before Zuko sensed that his firebending abilities had returned to normal. In that time, he did little but laze about in the sun and have the occasional spar with Lieutenant Jee, Tomoki and Kan, the only firebenders on the ship who were brave enough to train with him. Normally, such tame pursuits would have sent Zuko into a restless fit of rage, but Zhao was still not letting any ships in and out of port, so there was not much else he could have done unless he wanted to hunt for the Avatar on foot. His uncle, of course, had been delighted with the forced mini-vacation and had decided to make the most of it.

"See, Prince Zuko," Iroh commented on the third day, smiling as he poured his nephew a cup of tea. "A moment of quiet is good for your mental well-being."

Zuko said nothing and raised his cup to take a sip, only to have the scalding liquid splash in his face as something heavy rammed into the ship. "What the—" he growled, wiping the tea from his face.

Exchanging a brief glance with his uncle, Zuko stood up and made his way to the main deck. His eyes narrowed when he spotted a woman making her way across the deck on a large creature he did not recognise. When he heard that she was looking for a stowaway, he was even less impressed, at least until the beast ripped away a part of the deck with its teeth and paralysed the man who emerged from the hole. Still, what interested Zuko most was how she’d even known to look on his ship. When he asked her as much, the woman smiled and gave a fond pat to the creature's flank.

"My shirshu can smell a rat a continent away," she told him.

Iroh raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. "Well, I'm impressed," he observed. He watched as she leapt back onto her shirshu and raced off into the distance with a flick of her whip. A small grin tugged at his mouth. "Very impressed."

Zuko scowled. One of these days that old man was going to make him sick.

Someone coughed from behind them. "Uh, Prince Zuko."

Zuko turned and saw Tomoki clutching his firebender helmet in his hands, looking a little nervous. "What?" he snapped.

Tomoki fidgeted with the helmet. "We were just wondering what you wanted us to do with, uh—" he gestured to the gaping hole where the stowaway had been hidden, as well as the metal slab that had been torn away from the deck.

Zuko pinched the bridge of his nose with his forefinger and thumb. Right, the damage. "We'll need to make repairs." Again, his mind added. "Take the head engineer with you ashore and purchase whatever he says we need to fix the deck. Hire some extra helpers if it comes to that. I don't care about the cost; I just want this ship ready to move by the time Zhao lifts the ban."

"Yes, sir!"

"Better take Kan and Nozomi with you as well," Iroh advised. "Colonel Shinu and his men have yet to conquer all of the area surrounding Pohuai Stronghold. Not everyone will look kindly upon the Fire Nation, nor wish to help us with our problem."

Zuko nodded at Tomoki to show that he agreed with this assessment. It was sound logic, even though he was also certain that the Earth Kingdom traders wouldn't turn away a bag of gold regardless of what nation's symbol was stamped on the front. If anything, the greedy extortionists would just raise the price to try and get even more money out of their Fire Nation customers. It had happened before, and while Zuko could have threatened his way out of paying altogether, and did indeed haggle until the fee was lowered to a more reasonable price, he and his crew did not have the luxury of being able to always rely on Fire Nation aid if things got ugly. It was one of the many drawbacks of being a banished prince. Often he was just left to his own devices.

Tomoki bowed to both men and then marched off to carry out his orders. Zuko's gaze flicked back to the hole gouged into the deck. A crease formed on his brow. "How did a stowaway even get on the ship?" he mused aloud.

They had a patrol system in place to avoid just this scenario. While Zuko was capable of slipping past the watch when he chose, other people were certainly not allowed to do so, especially not some Earth Kingdom peasant. His crew might be a motley lot, but he still expected them to do their jobs properly. Speaking of which.

"Where is Lieutenant Jee?" he demanded, raising his voice loud enough for everyone on deck to hear.

A spearman who had been standing nearby flinched and almost dropped his weapon, no doubt startled by the sound of that commanding tone. Zuko stared at him pointedly until the man stammered that he would go find the lieutenant right this minute, with much bowing and sirs. Once uncle and nephew were alone again, Iroh gave Zuko one of his side-long looks.

"Perhaps I should call for more te—"

"Don't even start with the tea, Uncle!" Zuko snapped, folding his arms across his chest. "Contrary to what you think, it is not the solution to everything."

Iroh gave a good-humoured smile. "You say that now, but that's because you are not enjoying the relaxing influence of a nice cup of jasmine tea."

Zuko closed his eyes in exasperation. Spirits grant him patience.

He was still bemoaning his uncle's obsession with the drink when he heard the sound of a throat being cleared. He straightened, pushing all thought of annoying uncles and tea aside, and turned to face the lieutenant.

"You wished to speak to me, sir?" Jee asked.

"Yes," Zuko said bluntly, "I want to know how a stowaway got on the ship. He was hiding in the hold in one of the empty supply barrels."

Jee glanced at the gaping hole in the deck, then at the metal slab some of the crew were currently trying to shift. "Well, I can only assume that he must have slipped past the guard and—"

"Exactly!" Zuko interrupted. "Make sure it doesn't happen again. I won't have my mission to capture the Avatar jeopardised by some stowaway criminal."

Jee's jaw tightened a fraction and for a moment the two firebenders stared at each other as if sizing the other up. It was true that they had reached a better understanding during the storm, but that didn't change the fact that the lieutenant was an outspoken man who did not appreciate being asked to do more than what he considered reasonable, nor did it change Zuko's own intolerance of what he deemed his crew's incompetence and excuses.

"Of course, Prince Zuko," Jee said with a slight bow. "We'll be more thorough with our inspections next time and increase the guard while at port."

"Thank you," Zuko said with exaggerated politeness, and then turned to face his uncle.

His uncle who was now holding out a cup of hot jasmine tea for him.

Zuko smacked his palm against his forehead. The motion made something slip out from his sleeve. He blinked as he saw that it was the waterbender girl's necklace. He’d forgotten that he'd strapped it around his wrist for safekeeping.

"Your tea, Nephew," Iroh prompted.

"Right," Zuko muttered, absently accepting the cup.

His gaze drifted to the harbour where he had seen the bounty hunter disappear, and he frowned as he thought back to the strange creature she had been riding. On his wrist, the pendant continued to glint in a sparkle of blue.

oOo

Later that night, Zuko sat in his cabin and pondered over what he was going to do next. Now that he was back to his usual fighting capacity, he found himself itching to get moving again. Unfortunately, four days stuck at port had well and truly made the Avatar's trail go cold. It could take days, maybe even weeks, to track the elusive monk's position again. Days that Zuko knew he did not have. However, seeing the way that bounty hunter had captured the stowaway had given him an idea.

With Zhao still watching him and his crew like a hawk, Zuko knew that there was no way he would be able to slip past the blockade using his main vessel. The steamboat could, and had, sneaked through unnoticed, but it was not designed for long distance travel, nor would it fare well on deeper waters. The komodo rhinos were out because they would attract too much attention and that left Zuko with only one choice: he needed to find that bounty hunter.

The woman had said her shirshu tracked by scent. Zuko did not have anything of the Avatar's, but he did still have the waterbender's necklace in his possession. He wasn't even sure why he'd held on to the pendant the second time—it certainly hadn't helped him back at the riverside when he'd used it to blackmail her—but now he simply congratulated himself on his foresight. He'd seen how fast the shirshu could run; it would be easy enough to catch up to his quarry if the creature was using the necklace to track the girl's scent, and wherever she was, the Avatar and her brother were sure to be as well. It was a foolproof plan.

Zuko's eyes narrowed a fraction and he stared down at the necklace in his hand, absently running his thumb over the carvings etched into the pale blue stone. Yes, it was a foolproof plan, so he couldn't understand why he felt so unsettled. Luck was finally on his side again. He had his firebending back and now he had a way to track and capture the Avatar, for if the boy resisted, he could just get the bounty hunter to use her pet and paralyse him. There was no way the plan could fail, no way he could fail, and yet—

"If we knew each other back then, do you think we could have been friends?"

Zuko tightened his grip on the necklace. In his mind, he saw a boy wearing an orange cape bleeding in his arms, looking so fragile and small, so young and defenceless. Then the flames lighting his room went dead and he saw only darkness.

Chapter Text

It didn't take long for Zuko to track down the bounty hunter. An attractive woman riding a shirshu was not an image that was easily forgotten, or so Uncle Iroh claimed. As such, with a few questions and a little bit of intimidation, Zuko soon found himself striding into a seedy tavern and demanding her service as payment for the damage she had inflicted on his ship. The bounty hunter, June, did not seem too impressed with this plan; however, she quickly came around to their way of thinking. At least, as soon as it was decided that they would give her Uncle's weight in gold.

Zuko would have been more annoyed that he and his uncle had been out-manoeuvred by, what he termed, a piece of mercenary filth, but she was willing to help. In the end, that was what really mattered. He could have passed on the awkward shirshu ride that followed, though.

Of course, it was his uncle's fault. The ex-general had three great weaknesses: tea, Pai Sho, and women. Unfortunately, Zuko had forgot about that last one when he let his uncle take the middle position on the shirshu's harness. An hour later, Zuko was wishing that he had left Iroh back on the ship and that he himself was deaf, blind, and maybe dead too. At least then he wouldn't feel so mortifyingly embarrassed or have to listen to his uncle try to flirt with a woman who was at least half his age.

Finding the Water Tribe siblings—Sokka and Katara, Zuko thought their names were—did not make his mood any better. Sure, he managed to catch them, but it was hard work to keep their immobolised bodies from falling off the saddle as the shirshu jumped over logs and sped along.

Needless to say, Zuko was feeling particularly grumpy by the time they got back to the abbey. So, when the Avatar showed up and inadvertently knocked them all to the ground because the shirshu thought it would be fun to rear up on its hind legs to reach him, Zuko's ire only increased. He swore to himself in that moment that he was not going to let the little brat get away from him this time. His tortuous hunt for the airbender was going to end today.

"You're mine, Avatar!" Zuko growled, flipping back to his feet and sending a volley of fireballs his way.

Aang swirled his glider back into a staff, diffusing the attack, and then crouched into a defensive position. "What have you done to my friends?"

Distracted by the thought that the siblings might have got injured, Zuko glanced over his shoulder and saw that someone, no doubt the nuns, had dragged Sokka and Katara's limp forms to the far side of the abbey to keep them out of the thick of battle. As far as he could tell, the two still could not move but were otherwise unharmed. On the other side of the courtyard, June and her shirshu were fighting the Avatar's bison. His uncle was lingering near the perfume barrels.

Zuko glared back at the Avatar. "I haven't done anything to your friends," he retorted a little defensively. "They're just paralysed with shirshu venom."

To his surprise, Aang's face split into a relieved grin. "Oh, good. I didn't think you would hurt them, but—"

"Wait, what?" Zuko exclaimed, dropping his offensive stance as he frowned.

Aang shrugged and straightened to his full height. "Well, I realised from all the encounters we've had that you've never really tried to hurt us. Thrown a lot of fireballs maybe, but it didn't seem like you actually wanted to, you know, burn anyone."

Zuko just blinked. Was this kid insane?

"Anyway, I thought we could come to some kind of truce," Aang continued, quite heedless to the stunned glare he was receiving. He looked at Zuko hopefully. "It'd be great if you could give Katara her necklace back as well. I know it's important to her, and she really misses it."

For a moment Zuko just stared at him with a dazed sort of incredulity, unable to comprehend what he was hearing. Then he realised he was being distracted, again, and just like that a switch turned on in his mind and his blood was boiling with rage. He was not going to let this stupid kid get in his head with his friendly words and—and whatever it was that the Avatar was trying to do.

Snarling in frustration, Zuko brought his hands back up into a firebending stance. "Shut up and fight!" he snapped, and lunged forward with fire blossoming at his fingertips.

Aang dodged the attack and held his palms up in an appeasing gesture. "Wait, Zuko! I don't want to fight you!"

"Too bad!" Zuko created fiery daggers in both hands and slashed at his face. "Because I want to fight you!"

Aang side-stepped and parried Zuko's daggers with his staff, then let out a yelp as he almost lost his balance and fell into an open well. He jumped over the hole and took up another defensive stance, holding his staff out like a shield.

"Please," Aang begged, ducking a stream of fire. "I don't want to fight! Can't we just—"

"Shut up!"

Zuko slashed through the wooden planks that framed the well and advanced upon him, smoke curling from his nostrils. Aang's eyes widened and he tried to leap up onto the abbey roof to put some distance between them, but Zuko stopped him with a ruthless axe kick that trailed in a wall of flames, forcing him back.

"I don't think so, Avatar," Zuko said with dangerous softness.

Aang made a strangled noise of exasperation. "Listen." He darted under Zuko's arm to narrowly avoid being punched with a fireball to the head. "I know you're angry, but—"

Zuko growled and brought his foot down in a powerful fire bomb, forcing Aang to roll back with a gasp as flames burst up from the impact.

"Hey!" Aang cried indignantly, bounding back to his feet. "Would you stop trying to burn me to a crisp for just one second so I can talk to you!"

"I'm not here to talk!" Zuko retaliated with a series of quick jabs that had the younger boy dodging and ducking in a bizarre dance that would have been comical were it not for the seriousness of their situation. "Now stop jumping around like an idiot and fight!"

"No!" Aang side-stepped a missile of flame. "I won't fight you!"

Zuko gritted his teeth. "Then you're a fool!"

With raw grace, he dropped to the ground and performed three reverse roundhouse kicks in succession, starting off low to shake Aang's balance, then sweeping his leg around from the middle, and then finally lunging up in a high, spinning kick that aimed for the head. Aang managed to evade all three kicks, but the arcs of fire that streamed up and around Zuko in a shadow of the forms were less easy to dodge. In desperation, Aang brought his arms down in a great gust of wind, parting the flames as if they were water, and shoving Zuko back several paces from the force.

Zuko dug his feet into the ground to regain his balance. "So you can fight back," he observed with a twisted smile.

Aang shook his head. "I don't want to hurt you."

"Well, you're just going to have to because I'm not going to hold back!"

Flames curled around Zuko's fists, forming gloves of fire as he charged. Aang brought his staff up, blocking the blows and ruffling them both with the echo of wind that surged between them. Growling, Zuko swung his arm around in a back-handed punch, but Aang checked that too and then used the momentum to push him in the stomach with the staff, sending him stumbling backwards.

"Stop this!" Aang yelled, lowering his staff. "We don't have to fight each other!"

"Enough!" Zuko snarled. "The Fire Lord has ordered me to capture the Avatar and that is what I am going to do!"

Planting his feet firmly on the ground, Zuko breathed in deeply and moved his hands in a circular motion around his body, gathering his energy into a single, formidable attack. His eyes locked with Aang's, grim and unforgiving, and then he thrust his arms outward, unleashing a powerful ring of flames that closed in on Aang like blazing chains pulled tight. Aang's eyes widened with dismay. Zuko's own heart quickened a beat as Aang didn't raise his staff to deflect the attack with airbending.

Why wasn't he raising his staff?

Zuko paled as the flames crept closer, threatening to tear through orange and yellow fabric to the tender flesh underneath. Suddenly, an image flashed before his eyes of a young boy kneeling on a hard arena floor, tears streaming down his cheeks as he looked up into his opponent's face.

"Stand up and fight, Prince Zuko!"

"I will not."

"Coward! Will you not fight for your honour?"

"Please, Father. I meant no disrespect. I am your loyal son."

"You will learn respect, and suffering will be your teacher."

Zuko exhaled and stared at the boy in front of him. In his mind, he could see that innocent face becoming twisted and bloody as fire seared through tissue and membrane with sickening ease. With a half-strangled growl, he held his hands palm-up and called the blazing ring back towards him, extinguishing the fire with a downward stroke of his arms. Shakily, he lowered his hands back to his side. "What the hell is wrong with you?" he shouted in a hoarse voice, taking a half-step towards him. "Why didn't you block the attack?"

Aang let out a small breath. "Because I knew you wouldn't hurt me."

Zuko's jaw dropped. "Do you mean to tell me that you did that on purpose?" he hissed, barely containing the flames trying to escape his clenched fists.

Aang nodded.

"You idiot! Do you want to get yourself killed?"

"But you didn't kill me," Aang pointed out, not quite able to suppress a grin. He held his arms up as if to form make-shift wings. "Look, you didn't even singe my clothes."

Zuko narrowed his eyes. "Make no mistake, Avatar. I will not go easy on you again!"

Summoning his fire daggers back to his hands, he made to lunge forward when a large, fluffy tail thumped down in front of him. Zuko leapt back in alarm. He glanced up to see a ten ton bison glaring down at him with bared teeth, preparing to attack.

"No, Appa!" Aang cried, shoving Zuko out of the way.

Before Zuko could react, a venom-coated tongue flicked past him and hit the Avatar squarely on the back. Zuko's eyes widened and he watched as if in slow motion as the monk faltered in his steps, limbs seizing up with a puppet-like rigidness before falling to the ground with a dull thud. Appa let out a roar and bounded forward to attack the oncoming shirshu, but Zuko remained where he was, half-frozen in shock. The Avatar had just saved him again.

"Why?" he found himself asking. "Why did you protect me?"

Their eyes met. Though Aang was now paralysed from head to foot, he managed to give a tremulous smile. "Because you saved my life," he said weakly, his voice half-choked by the toxins surging through his blood. "You healed me even though I was your enemy. I can't just forget that."

Zuko swallowed hard. He didn't know how to respond to that.

"Aang!"

The screams came from behind. Zuko turned in surprise to see a wave of greyish liquid come rushing towards him. He barely had time to react before the waterbender released her hold on the liquid, letting it wash over the two boys and drenching them with an overwhelming scent of perfume. Zuko rubbed at his stinging eyes, half-stumbling from the impact.

"No!" a voice yelled that sounded a lot like his uncle's.

Steadying himself, Zuko looked up to see June fall in an immobile heap on top of his uncle. That was when he noticed the shirshu coming straight for him, wild in its movements and making enraged sounds of panic from all the scents distorting its senses. Zuko tried to roll out of the way, but something still lashed against his cheek and his body began to shut down, slowing his blood and numbing all feeling in his limbs. His back hit the ground, though he did not feel the impact, and then he found himself staring up at an evening sky. He blinked once, twice, but he could not move. He was paralysed.

Zuko breathed in deeply, trying to calm the panic pressing on his mind. Vaguely, he was aware of footsteps coming towards him. Katara peered down at him with an unreadable expression. He watched her warily, wondering what she would do, but she just reached down and uncoiled the necklace that had been wrapped around his wrist.

"I'll be taking this back now," she said, straightening to her full height.

She walked away to join her friends, leaving him staring at an empty expanse of sky. He could hear the younger teens talking. The nuns waved a small bottle under the Avatar's nose, allowing him to regain his mobility. Zuko gritted his teeth and willed his body to move, but his limbs remained numb and motionless. A part of him wondered if he could call upon his strange fire healing to remove the toxins in his blood, but he immediately recoiled from the idea, remembering how cold and empty he had felt after the last time he had healed someone, how fragile and weak his firebending had become. No, if he could help it, he would never use that power again. Still, he didn't want to remain in such a defenceless position either.

Another face appeared before his vision. Zuko bit back a growl when he recognised the arrow tattooed onto the kid's forehead.

"Hey," Aang said softly.

"Come to gloat?" Zuko muttered, averting his gaze.

"No. I just wanted to thank you for, you know, not letting those flames burn me earlier."

"That's great. Now leave me alone."

Aang sighed as if he had expected such a remark and settled down cross-legged beside him. Zuko repressed the urge to yell in frustration. If only he had the use of his limbs.

"Did your father really order you to capture me?" Aang asked after a moment.

"Yes."

"And I suppose I can't persuade you to not try to capture me, right?"

"No."

Aang sighed. "Well, I'm sorry then."

Zuko said nothing.

"Aang, come on!" Sokka shouted. "We've got to leave before the toxins wear off!"

"Coming!" Aang responded, grinning as he waved to his friends. He was still smiling when he turned back to Zuko. "Well, I guess this is goodbye."

"Right," Zuko said dryly.

Aang's grin widened. "I'd say I hope we could see each other again soon, but then you'd just attack me, so maybe not."

Zuko rolled his eyes. "Just go away. I'm being tortured enough as it is not being able to move without having to listen to your inane babbling as well."

Aang's smile got so big it was a wonder his head didn't explode. "So you do have a sense of humour."

Zuko glared.

"Aang!" Sokka and Katara called, this time more insistently.

Aang scrambled to his feet. "Woops! Gotta go!"

Zuko was about to sigh in relief when Aang swivelled back around to face him.

"Oh, before I forget—"

To Zuko's astonishment, the Avatar placed his fists together and bowed in the way of the Air Nomads. A clear mark of respect.

"We might fight on opposite sides," Aang said seriously, "but I will not forget the mercy you showed me today." A warm smile touched his eyes. "You're an honourable warrior, Prince Zuko. I only wish that we could have …"

He trailed off with a sigh, gave one last smile—though it was really more of a grimace—and then raced back to his friends. Zuko frowned and stared back up at the sky, just catching a glimpse of the bison as it flew off into the distance, along with its frustratingly confusing master. The kid was clearly insane, yet his parting words stuck in Zuko's mind long after the Avatar had left and the toxins had worn off his body.

"You're an honourable warrior."

Zuko closed his eyes. "And you're still just a naïve child."

oOo

Aang smiled and rested his hands behind his head, stretching out on Appa so that he was cradled in a cocoon of the bison's fur. It felt good to be reunited with his friends again. He'd been so upset after they'd discovered he'd hidden the map to their father and had chosen to leave him. Even listening to Sokka snore wasn't so annoying tonight. In fact, for Aang, everything was just about perfect. Katara and Sokka had told him that they had actually been coming back to join him when they had run into Zuko and the others. Still, even with that little hiccup, it had all worked out in the end. Well, mostly.

"Hey, Aang," Katara said, leaning over the side of the saddle.

"Yeah?"

"Can I ask you something?"

"Of course you can, Katara," Aang said brightly.

She should know by now that he would do anything for her.

Katara tugged on her plait, playing with the loose strands of hair at the end. "Well, I just wondered what you were talking to Zuko about. You know, before we left the abbey."

Aang frowned and sat up properly, rubbing the back of his neck as he pondered how to respond. "You really want to know the truth?"

She nodded.

"I was thanking him."

Her eyes widened. "For what?"

"Because he could have burnt me to a crisp and he didn't."

"So what? You just go and thank him?"

Aang shrugged. "It seemed the right thing to do."

Katara's mouth pulled down into a frown. "Aang, he's our enemy! He wants to capture you and take you back to the Fire Nation!"

"I know, I know!" Aang exclaimed, throwing his hands up in the air. "But I just think—"

"You just think what?"

He sighed and shook his head. "Never mind. You wouldn't understand."

Katara placed her hand on his shoulder. "Aang, I know it's in your nature to not want to fight, but Zuko is dangerous. You can't trust him."

Aang pulled his knees up to his chest and looked the other way. "I know," he said sadly.

But that doesn't mean I can't have hope.

"Hey, lovebirds!" Sokka called in a grumbling tone. "Do you mind keeping it down? Some of us are trying to sleep here!"

Momo chittered in agreement.

Katara rolled her eyes and looked back at Aang. "You'd better take us down so we can set up camp, otherwise Captain Grumpy over there might have an aneurysm—never mind that his snoring keeps everyone awake!" she added in a much louder voice.

"Hey, I resent that!" Sokka retorted.

Aang laughed and pulled on Appa's reins to guide the bison down to find a good camping spot. It really was good to be with friends again.

Chapter Text

"Look at this," Sokka said.

Aang moved away from the Fire Days Festival poster to join Sokka on the other side of the billboard. He stopped short when he saw an arrow-headed figure in orange and yellow pasted on the wood. "Hey, it's a poster of me."

"Yeah, a wanted poster," Sokka retorted. "Aang, this is bad."

"What's this?" Katara murmured, peeling off the parchment that had been pasted to the bottom right corner. "Aang, didn't you say you were rescued from Zhao by a guy in a blue mask?"

Aang nodded.

"Well, it looks like the two of you have something in common." She held up the poster to show the grinning, demonic face.

"The Blue Spirit," Sokka read aloud, then let out a low whistle. "That's a hefty sum they're willing to pay for his capture. Wanted dead or alive as well." He shook his head. "Looks like the Fire Nation really didn't take to your friend, Aang."

"He's not my friend," Aang said quietly, looking the other way.

Katara's brow creased. Aang always seemed so down whenever he spoke of the Blue Spirit. She had thought it was because the warrior had left after rescuing and healing Aang, but now she wondered if there was something more to it. The way Aang had said that the Blue Spirit wasn't his friend, it was the same tone he'd used when he'd seen the Southern Air Temple for the first time and saw how changed the place was: a mixture of regret and aching disappointment. She wondered what had really happened between the two, but she also knew that now was not the time to pry. They had more important things to worry about.

"Well, either way," she said, folding up the Blue Spirit picture and slipping it in her robe, "I don't think it's safe for us to be attending any Fire Nation festivals with these wanted posters everywhere."

"But—"

"No, Aang," Katara said firmly. "We can't risk you getting caught again. Just think what happened the last time. If it wasn't for the Blue Spirit, you'd be getting shipped off to the Fire Nation right now."

"Come on, guys," Aang pleaded, peering up at them with soulful eyes. "This could be my only chance to study some real firebending." He turned to Sokka. "And you were just complaining before about how hungry you are. A festival is bound to have heaps and heaps of food. More than you can eat."

"I don't know," Sokka said thoughtfully, "I can eat a lo—hey, no changing the subject!"

"Sokka's right, Aang," Katara said, squeezing his shoulder. "It's not safe."

Aang wasn’t happy with this decision and continued to put forth arguments for why they should go. Eventually, Katara agreed to attend and got Sokka to relent as well, though he was far from assured by the promise they’d wear disguises and leave before they could get into trouble.

Katara rolled her eyes. "No one is asking you to come, you know. You can stay here with Appa and Momo if it upsets you so much."

"No, I'll come." Sokka drew himself up to his full height. "After all, someone has to make sure the two of you stay out of trouble."

"Right," Katara said dryly.

Aang dashed ahead, bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet. "C'mon, guys! We don't want to miss anything. I'm telling you, if there's one thing the Fire Nation is good at, it's putting on festivals! I remember this one time Kuzon and I ..."

She smiled as Aang babbled on about a sun celebration he had attended over a hundred years ago. It was good to see him happy again, though she found it difficult to believe that he'd actually been friends with someone from the Fire Nation. A hundred years of war had changed the nations so much. The world that Aang had known—a world where an airbender could be best friends with a Fire Nation boy—did not exist anymore. Somehow, that made her sad.

Something brushed against her arm and she glanced down to see the Blue Spirit poster trying to escape from her robe. Frowning, she unfolded the parchment and stared at the blue mask.

I wonder where you are now, she mused.

The Blue Spirit was an intriguing figure: a masked vigilante, a healer, and someone who had been willing to risk his life to save the Avatar. But then he had just disappeared afterward. She desperately wished she knew why. What was he hiding under that mask? And why was Aang so reluctant to talk about the silent warrior who had saved his life?

Sighing, she folded the parchment back up and tucked it more securely into her robe. Whoever this Blue Spirit was, she hoped that they would not need his services today. The last thing they needed was for Aang to be captured by the Fire Nation again or for Sokka to say "I told you so". Still, if the Blue Spirit was out there, she hoped he was keeping an eye out for Aang. She had a feeling Aang was going to need all the help he could get before the war was over.

oOo

Zuko stared at the mask in his hands, absently tracing his fingers over the carved wood. He remembered when he had first bought the mask. It had only been a month since he had removed the bandages covering the left side of his face and he’d still been getting used to the scarred boy that greeted him every time he looked in the mirror. Of course, he'd known at the time that he should have been happy. He'd been told by the healers that it was likely he would never see out of his left eye again and that his hearing might also be impaired. Zuko had proven them wrong on both counts. His vision was somewhat narrowed in scope but otherwise fine. His hearing had not suffered at all.

For a thirteen-year-old boy who had just lost everything, however, knowing that he was not about to go half-blind or deaf had been a small comfort. The burning memory of the Agni Kai had still been fresh in his mind; he'd also failed to gain any information about the Avatar from the four Air Temples. Zuko had not admitted it aloud, but he had begun to despair that he would ever be able to return to the Fire Nation. The Avatar had not been seen for a hundred years and there he had been just a banished prince with no home and no birthright. He'd felt like a watercolour that had been left in the sun too long: colours that had once been vivid and formed an image worth looking upon had lost all meaning and life.

That was when Zuko had seen the mask glinting up at him from the trader's stall. He'd recognised the character from a play his mother had taken him and Azula to watch. The Blue Spirit, the troupe had called the character: a silent warrior who made his own destiny. Something in Zuko had reached out to the mask in that moment, or maybe the spirit of the mask had reached out to him. Either way, he had found himself handing over a few copper coins to the Earth Kingdom trader and sneaking a wrapped bundle back to his cabin on the ship where he had then tried on the grinning mask for the first time.

It was as if he had become a different person. The Blue Spirit didn't need to hunt for the Avatar. The Blue Spirit didn't need to worry about having no home or disapproving fathers or the loss of his honour. The Blue Spirit made his own honour, his own destiny. All he needed was his dual dao swords and a life of freedom and adventure.

Of course, that was what made Zuko's current predicament so ironic, because it was the Blue Spirit who had gone to get the Avatar back from Zhao. Prince Zuko had wanted to capture the boy, but the Blue Spirit had healed him, and now the stupid kid thought that they could be friends and was ready to risk life and limb to achieve this deluded dream if the Avatar's behaviour at the abbey was anything to go by. It was infuriating, but it was also impossibly confusing. Boundaries that should never have been crossed had been crossed and now the line between mask and reality was becoming blurred. Now, Zuko didn't know what to think or what to feel, especially in regards to the Avatar.

"You're an honourable warrior, Prince Zuko."

He closed his eyes, trying to push back the feelings that arose whenever he thought of those parting words. He might have been able to understand the tribute a bit more if the Avatar had directed the words to the Blue Spirit—after all, his masked alter ego was the one who had rescued Aang in the first place—but Zuko had been wearing no mask when he had fought the Avatar at the abbey. He was just the banished prince trying to fulfil the task he had been set, and failing miserably.

His father would have called him weak for showing mercy, his sister would have laughed at him, but the Avatar had called him honourable. The Avatar had bowed to him in respect like an equal. It was ... strange.

A knock sounded at the door. Zuko twitched and shoved the mask under his blanket, hiding it from view. "Enter," he commanded.

The door opened with a spinning of cogwheels and groaning metal. Firebender Nozomi crossed the threshold, inclining his head in a slight bow.

"A messenger just arrived from Pohuai Stronghold," Nozomi said, straightening to his full height. "Colonel Shinu has removed the ban stopping all ships from leaving the area. Now that we are free to go, Lieutenant Jee wishes to know where you would like the helmsman to set our course next."

Zuko frowned and stood up from the bed, pacing back and forth as he pondered over the message and all of its implications. If the ban had been removed, that meant Zhao had left the area, which also meant the admiral had a new lead on where the Avatar was heading. Zuko's heart gave a funny leap in his chest. What if that idiot monk got himself caught again?

He glanced at Nozomi. "Did the messenger happen to mention what direction Admiral Zhao took his men?"

"No, sir." Nozomi hesitated. "That is—"

Zuko narrowed his eyes. "Yes?"

"There were rumours that the Avatar had been sighted last night in the colony town of Yin Shin during the Fire Days Festival. Perhaps Admiral Zhao went in pursuit."

A crease formed on Zuko's brow. What on earth was that kid up to?

"Should I, uh, tell the helmsman to set a course for the town, sir?" Nozomi asked.

Zuko's frown deepened and he cast a glance at the bed where he knew his Blue Spirit mask was hidden under the blanket. "I need to speak with my uncle," he said shortly.

Without waiting for a response, he walked past Nozomi and headed for his uncle's cabin. A thorough understanding of Iroh's character told Zuko that he would likely be snoring in his bed fast asleep, and Zuko was not disappointed. He sighed and folded his arms across his chest.

"Uncle!" he snapped. When that didn't work, he raised his voice even louder. "Uncle, wake up!"

Iroh sat up with a start, mumbling something under his breath about roast duck. Yawning, he rubbed the sleep from his eyes and then spotted his nephew. "Oh, it's you." A lazy smile stretched across his features. "I thought I heard your dulcet tones."

Zuko bit back a growl. "Uncle, we have a problem," he said, getting straight to the point. "The Avatar was spotted in Yin Shin and now Zhao has taken off in pursuit and he's probably hours ahead of us."

Iroh stroked his beard. "What are you suggesting we do?"

"I don't know!" Zuko threw his hands up in the air. "Even if we did follow the Avatar to Yin Shin, there's no guarantee that he'll still be there, and with Zhao doing everything in his power to sabotage my mission, I don't know if—"

"You don't know if it is worth the risk," Iroh finished for him with an understanding nod.

Zuko sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to hold back what threatened to be a nasty stress headache. "We only just got given permission to leave port. As humiliating as it is to admit, I know I don't have the power to go against Zhao, at least not openly."

"That's very wise of you, Nephew. A true leader knows his weaknesses and when he must bide his time for the right moment to strike."

"Maybe so, but that still doesn't change the fact Zhao is now one step closer to capturing the Avatar and we're still drifting around with nothing."

Iroh resumed stroking his beard. "The Avatar is a resourceful boy. Perhaps he will manage to elude Admiral Zhao."

"Elude him? Uncle, that idiot walked into a Fire Nation colony and pretty much announced himself to be the Avatar. I don't think he even knows what the word 'cautious' means."

"Sounds like someone else I know," Iroh said with a sly smile.

Zuko rolled his eyes. "A moment ago you were just saying I was wise. Now you're calling me reckless."

"That is because you are both wise and reckless, though mostly reckless, but in this case I think you are worrying too much. I don't think Admiral Zhao will succeed in capturing the Avatar."

"Why not?" Zuko's voice was bitter. "He's done it before."

"And the Avatar managed to escape when no one else thought he could."

Zuko said nothing. He knew damn well how the Avatar had achieved that feat.

Iroh watched him closely. "If you want my advice, Prince Zuko, I suggest you set our course for north."

"North? But what about Zhao?"

"You said yourself that you do not have the resources to go against Admiral Zhao openly. I think it best we avoid another confrontation and continue with the old plan. Didn't you say that you thought the Avatar might be heading to the Northern Water Tribe to be trained in waterbending?"

"Well, yes, but—"

"Then we should head north." Iroh smiled and stretched back out against his bed. "Ah, I wonder if I can persuade the cook to make us roast duck for dinner tonight. I have a real craving for it."

Zuko once more found himself pinching the bridge of his nose. Just when he thought he was having a serious conversation with his uncle, the old man would go and say something about tea or food or something equally frivolous. Didn't his uncle understand the gravity of their situation? That stupid kid could get captured by Zhao again and then it wouldn't matter how far north they travelled, because there would be no Avatar to intercept.

Clenching his jaw, Zuko turned and headed for the door.

"Where are you going?" Iroh asked mildly.

"Out," Zuko responded, not looking back at his uncle.

Iroh's mouth twitched into a smile. "Don't stay out too long. You'll miss the roast duck."

"Ugh, I don't care about the roast duck! Just make sure our supplies are restocked and that the ship is ready for departure. We'll be leaving for the North Pole tomorrow."

"Very well."

Zuko left without a further word and marched back to his own cabin. He slammed the door shut and then opened the large chest where he kept his clothes, pulling out the form-fitting black bodysuit and gloves, as well his best stealth boots. Stuffing the lot into a bag, he crossed to his bed and thrust the blanket aside, revealing the grinning blue mask. He hesitated only a moment before he shoved the mask inside the bag and removed his dao blades from the wall.

"This time I won't let you even touch him, Zhao," Zuko promised grimly, bringing the broadswords together and sheathing the combined blades in a black scabbard.

Prince Zuko could not go against Admiral Zhao openly, but the Blue Spirit could and would. He'd just have to make sure the Avatar did not see him, since his cover had already been blown with the kid from the last time he'd donned his disguise. Not that it really mattered. For once, this wasn't about capturing the Avatar. This was about making sure that bastard Zhao didn't have yet another reason to gloat in front of him. Zuko had been humiliated enough. It was time to even the scales.

"I told you not to get in my way," Zuko said with a twisted little smile. "You should have listened to me the first time."

oOo

Katara knelt by the river, cradling her aching hands in her lap. Blisters were already forming in scalding bubbles along her palms, reaching right down to her wrists in red swirls of burnt flesh. She supposed she should have seen it coming. Aang had been impatient with the control exercises and had not bothered to take it slow when the leaf he'd been clutching had turned into a ball of flames. Unfortunately, she was the one who had got hurt by his need to experiment.

Holding back a sob, she carefully placed her hands in the water to try easing the pain. A faint, numbing sensation was all she got at first, but then a soothing balm surrounded her burns. It felt like all the burning stings and blisters were melting away. Her eyes snapped open to see a blue light. No, it was her hands that were glowing! Katara removed her hands from the water and examined her palms. The red marks were gone.

"You have healing abilities," a familiar voice observed.

She turned to see Jeong Jeong walking towards her.

"The great benders of the Water Tribe sometimes have this ability," he continued, taking a seat beside her on the riverbank. "I have always wished I were blessed like you, free from this burning curse."

"But you're a great master," Katara exclaimed. "You have powers I will never know."

"Water brings healing and life, but fire"—he looked down at his own hands—"fire brings only destruction and pain. It forces those of us burdened with its care to walk a razor's edge between humanity and savagery." His voice lowered, as if he were speaking more to himself. "Eventually, we are torn apart."

For a moment, both were silent. Katara pondered over his words and, as she did, something slipped out from her robe. She snatched at the parchment before it could be carried off with the wind. It was the Blue Spirit wanted poster.

"Master Jeong Jeong," she said, unable to keep the trembling excitement from out of her voice. "Are you quite certain that only waterbenders can heal?"

He nodded. "That is the way it has always been. Every element has its place in the universe, but only waterbenders have ever been able to use their element as a catalyst for mending the body."

A small smile curved Katara's mouth. Then the Blue Spirit had to be a waterbender. No wonder he had been able to heal Aang. He had healing powers like her.

I'm not alone anymore.

She tightened her grip on the poster. Fire suddenly exploded in front of her, followed by another flash of heat. Jeong Jeong was up on his feet in an instant and creating a shield of flames around them.

"Get your friends and flee!" he ordered. "Do not come back here or you will all be destroyed!"

"But—"

"Hurry!"

Katara hesitated only a moment before she turned and ran. In her hand, she still clutched the crumpled poster of a warrior in a blue mask.

oOo

Zuko heard the fireballs go off before he saw them. His feet pounded against the riverbank as he increased his speed, sprinting towards the sounds of fighting. He'd been hoping to sabotage the boats before Zhao made it to the Avatar's position. Unfortunately, he'd been more behind than he'd thought. Any plans for a stealth attack had to be tossed down the drain. The new plan was simply to make the bastard pay in any way that he could. Zuko just hoped that the Avatar wouldn't be stupid enough to blow his cover, as he had no doubt that the kid would be right there in the thick of battle.

A flash of orange passed before his vision. Zuko narrowed his eyes. Zhao and a now familiar monk were facing each other in a standoff just ahead of him. He could not hear what the Avatar was saying, but Zhao's voice carried on the wind.

"I see he taught you how to duck and run like a coward, but I doubt he showed you what a firebender is truly capable of!"

Zhao released a violent stream of flames. Aang dropped with inhuman speed and just managed to duck the attack by balancing on one finger.

"Woah!" Aang exclaimed, glancing over his shoulder as the trees behind him burned orange. "Wild shot!"

"I'll show you wild!" Zhao snarled.

Zuko narrowed his eyes as Zhao took up a familiar stance. No you don't! Unsheathing his blades, Zuko threw himself between the two enemies in a blur of black just as Zhao released another torrent of flames. He landed in a half-crouch in front of Zhao and brought his swords up in a cross-like formation, redirecting the flames away from himself and the Avatar in two jagged lines.

"It's you!" Aang gasped, taking a step forward.

Zuko ignored him and continued to glare at Zhao through the slits of his mask. Very calmly, he stood to his full height and pointed one sword the admiral's way, daring him to try that move again. Zhao's eyes bulged, but he pulled himself together a second later.

"So, it seems the Blue Spirit is back to save the day again," Zhao sneered. "No matter. I'll just have to destroy you both!"

With a growl, Zhao brought his fists together and sent two fireballs their way. Zuko rolled to the left, dodging the first, while Aang crafted a wind shield and dispersed the rest of the flames like a tornado. Zhao hissed. Perhaps sensing that he was not going to succeed by dividing his attention between his two opponents, his eyes flickered back to Zuko. Suddenly, there were three fireballs surging towards Zuko, only this time there was barely any room for deviation. He gritted his teeth and joined his swords into one blade, deflecting the first attack. He was about to block the second when Aang swooped in beside him and created a gust of air, pushing the fireball aside. The third would have smacked the younger boy right in the face, but Zuko dragged Aang down with him by his collar, forcing them both to fall to their stomachs.

"I can't believe this!" Aang babbled excitedly, looking over at Zuko as they lay side-by-side on the ground. "You're actually here to help!"

For answer, Zuko tugged hard on his collar, pulling Aang with him as he rolled to avoid a firebomb. Because of the way they landed, Zuko was still half-shielding Aang with his body, and he took the moment to make use of their proximity to glare at the younger boy through the slits of his mask. The message was clear: don't talk. Fight.

"Right," Aang said, focussing his attention back on Zhao.

Zuko rolled his eyes. This was why he had known he had to come regardless of whether his behaviour could be considered treasonous. The Avatar was far too easily distracted.

Releasing his grip on Aang, he got back to his feet and took a protective stance in front of the airbender. He met Zhao's gaze challengingly, who was still circling them like a starving buzzard-wasp. If the Avatar wasn't going to keep his guard up, Zuko would just have to do it for him.

"Well, well," Zhao taunted, "the two of you make a perfect pair. You both only know how to dodge and evade."

"We can't help it your aim is so bad," Aang retorted, taking his place beside Zuko.

"What?"

"You know it's funny," Aang continued, "because somehow I thought you'd be better than this." A mischievous smile curled his lips. "I guess they'll make anyone an admiral these days."

Zhao let out a snarl and released an onslaught of fire that was certainly impressive for its blazing intensity but still too wild to be of any threat. Zuko and Aang ducked the flames in unison, then rolled in a mirror of movement to avoid the arc of fire that followed.

"What are you doing?" Zuko hissed, grabbing him by the elbow and running with him to avoid the flames that exploded around them in bursts of heat. "You're just making Zhao angrier!"

Aang flashed him a toothy smile. "That's the point."

Zuko blinked. "What?"

"Zhao has no control."

"So?"

"So he—"

Out of the corner of his eye, Zuko noticed a fireball coming straight for his face. He growled and brought his swords up in a flash of steel, sending the flames circling away like a dazed bird. His gaze flickered back to Aang. "You were saying?"

Aang grinned. "Only that I think I've come up with a plan to get Zhao to defeat himself, but I might need your help."

They both ducked to avoid another jet of flames.

"Fine," Zuko responded. "What's the plan?"

"Lure him over to the river, then get him really angry and make him shoot fireballs like crazy. If I'm right about him, he'll set fire to all of his boats, which will leave him stranded and give us a clean getaway."

A smile curved Zuko's mouth, though it was hidden by the permanent grin of his mask. "You know, Avatar, this might actually work."

Before Aang could respond, a firebomb exploded in front of them and daggers of flame sprouted up from the impact. Both boys leaped back, though Zuko felt the heat brush his skin in an uncomfortable caress through his clothes. Damn, that was close.

"Stand and fight, you cowards!" Zhao growled, striding towards them with his hands glowing in deadly flames.

Zuko stepped forward and swung his swords into an offensive stance. "Right. I'll distract him while you make your way to the boats. After that it's up to you."

"Got it!"

Zhao turned as Aang darted off for the river, but the clear ring of steel had his attention returning to Zuko. He laughed coldly. "What? Do you really think you can best me? You can't even bend."

As if to prove his point, Zhao sent an intense wave of fire at him, which Zuko simply side-stepped. Zuko watched the fireball's progress and then glanced back at Zhao through the slits of his mask. Knowing that it would only grate further, he once again pointed his sword at the other man, beckoning for Zhao to come closer if he dared. The admiral growled low in his throat and retaliated with several arcs of fire, all close in succession. The idiot was all hot air and no precision. Zuko inhaled and charged, swords flashing around him as he slipped in and around the flames like a wisp of smoke, only bothering to block when necessary. Closer and closer he got, and then he could see the fear enlarging his adversary's pupils and he reached out with his sword and—

Tapped Zhao lightly on the head with the flat of his blade.

Zuko would have laughed at Zhao's expression, but, as it was, he had to quickly roll away to avoid being struck with a fireball. The risk had been worth it, though, if only to see the humiliation burn in those bulging, hate-filled eyes. Arrogant bastard had that one coming for weeks.

"You'll pay for that!" Zhao spat, planting his feet on the ground and gathering his energy.

Zuko's eyes widened as he realised what Zhao was about to do. There was no way he would be able to deflect such an attack by using his swords. He'd have to use real firebending.

This could get ugly, Zuko thought with a grimace.

Warily, he began to back away while he tried to calculate which would be the best direction for him to run to when it came time to dodge. He couldn't remember exactly now, but he thought that Zhao favoured his right for attacks. Or had it been his left?

Damn it! Zuko held his swords up in front of him in a defensive stance. I really should have thought this one through.

"Ahoy!" a familiar and, at least for Zuko, very welcome voice called. "I'm Admiral Zhao!"

Distracted, both firebenders glanced towards the boats to see Aang doing an odd—wait a minute, was the kid actually wiggling his bum at Zhao?

Zuko blinked in faint bewilderment, but apparently the juvenile taunt had been enough to snap the last shreds of logic that had been keeping Zhao in control. With a snarl that sounded more animal than human, Zhao let loose a volley of fireballs that should have hit Aang, except the boy leapt to the next boat with a wicked little laugh, leaving the other vessel to catch fire in a swarm of flames.

"I don't believe it," Zuko muttered as he watched Zhao chase Aang onto the next boat and repeat the process. "The kid's plan is actually working."

Round and round the two went: Aang calling out offensive taunts as he leapt from boat to boat while Zhao blindly charged like a saber-tooth moose lion and destroyed all in his path with his uncontrolled fireballs. It was a good thing that the Avatar was an airbender; only someone as elusive as the wind would have managed to dodge all of those attacks without getting burnt to a crisp.

Zuko's heart jolted in his chest as Aang get cornered on the last boat. Maybe he'd celebrated too soon.

"Nowhere to run now, you little smart mouth!" Zhao spat, holding his fists up to attack.

Aang somersaulted over the flames that rushed towards him, landing on the bow of the boat. "You've lost this battle, Zhao."

"Are you crazy?" Zhao snapped. "You haven't even thrown a single blow."

"No," Aang agreed, "but you have."

Zhao turned his head and it was then that he noticed the destruction he had caused. With an inhuman growl, he lunged at Aang's throat, fire blossoming at his fingertips. There was a flash of steel, a faint gasp, and then Zhao's eyes rolled back into his head and he fell with a dull thud. Zuko lowered his blade to his side.

"Did you kill him?" Aang demanded, looking a bit green.

"No," Zuko said impatiently. "I hit him with the hilt of my blade and didn’t put in enough force for that.” He hoped. He hated the guy, but he wasn’t ready to kill an officer of his own nation either.

“Um, should we take him back to shore with us then?”

Zuko glanced at the burning boat. “I guess.”

He sheathed his broadswords and, together, the two boys grabbed one arm each and then hauled Zhao back to shore. The admiral stirred a bit and made a few groans, which was actually kind of a relief. At least now they knew he was alive. Not that either of them was in any rush to linger to check on his wellbeing. They let go of him as soon as it was safe to do so without him inevitably drowning and sprinted back up the river bank.

"Hey!" Aang shouted, dashing after Zuko when he started to diverge. "Where are you going?"

"Back to my ship."

"But—"

Zuko swung around to face him. "Listen, I know you have some weird idea about us being friends, but that is never going to happen. The only reason I came here today is because Zhao was trying to capture you and I know you're stupid enough to let it happen."

"Excuse me, but aren't you forgetting that it was my plan that just stopped Zhao?"

"Whatever." Zuko continued to run. "You're still an idiot."

Aang's mouth drooped, but he brightened a second later. "Fine, call me an idiot if you like, but that doesn't change the fact that you came here to help me." He grinned impishly. "Face it, Zuko, you're not as mean as you like to make yourself out to be. Secretly, I think you're just wishing you could be my friend."

"You're delusional."

"Not as delusional as you!" Aang quickened his pace to match Zuko's longer strides. "You just can't go around helping your enemies and expect those people to stay your enemies. It just—it just doesn't work that way!"

"I'm not helping you! I'm helping myself!"

Aang tilted his head to the side. "How does that even work?"

"Because the only way I can return home is if I bring you back to the Fire Nation myself! If Zhao gets there before me, I gain nothing. Hence, it's not in my best interests to let Zhao capture you."

"So why aren't you trying to capture me right now?"

Zuko saw the grin being flashed his way and had to resist the urge to throw a fireball at the kid's face. Instead, he gritted his teeth. "I wouldn't get used to it, Avatar," he said in a hard voice. "This is a one-time offer. The next time we see each other, you had better be prepared to fight or else you will be captured." He met his eyes menacingly. "And believe me, I don't plan on falling for any of your childish tricks like Zhao."

Aang's grin widened. "Sure, whatever you say."

Zuko barely managed to repress a groan. Now the kid was going to drive him insane.

To his surprise, Aang did not pester him with any more unsubtle hints about the two of them becoming friends. Instead, after a few innocent questions and a few more monosyllabic replies on Zuko's part, Aang fell into a state of blissful silence, though he did insist on following Zuko, and staring at Zuko, and pretty much annoying Zuko without even saying a word. Spirits, how did the kid do it?

"What?" Zuko snarled after the seventh time he caught Aang staring at him. They were far enough away from the beach that both had slowed to a brisk walk.

Aang rubbed the back of his neck. "I was just thinking."

Zuko did sigh that time. "About what?" he asked, already knowing that he was going to regret taking the bait.

"Well, I just recently started learning firebending, but the guy who was teaching me seemed to really hate his bending. I mean he really hated it. He kept going on and on about how dangerous fire is and how I needed to learn control or it would consume me and destroy everything I love." Aang let out a small breath. "Anyway, I didn't believe him and, and—"

"You hurt someone," Zuko said quietly, understanding softening his voice.

Aang nodded. "Katara. She said she managed to heal the burns, but I can't forget the fact that I hurt her, and after seeing the way Zhao used his fire, well ..." He sighed and shook his head. "It almost makes me think that my teacher was right in saying that fire can only bring about destruction. If that's the case, I really don't want to master the element."

Zuko paused in his steps. "You should know better than anyone that fire isn't just destruction."

"See, but that's the thing. My master told me that it's impossible for fire to heal, yet you healed me, so I was just wondering how you—"

Zuko clenched his hands into fists. "I don't want to talk about it."

"But—"

"I said I don't want to talk about it!" He unsheathed one of his dao blades and held the sharpened point to Aang's throat.

Aang held his hands up. "Okay, okay, I get it. You don't want to talk about it."

Zuko glared at him for a moment and then finally lowered his blade.

"So, is there a reason you don't want to talk about it?" Aang asked after a pause.

A hiss of smoke escaped Zuko's lips. "You have three seconds to get out of my sight before I change my mind about capturing you today. I suggest you start running."

"Come on, Zuko. Don't be like that. You know I didn't mean—"

"One."

"But—"

"Two."

Aang sighed and backed away. "Fine."

"Oh," Zuko added, pointing his blade towards him, "and don't you dare tell anyone about what happened here today. Not even your friends."

"Why not?"

"What do you think, idiot? I'm the Prince of the Fire Nation and now my Blue Spirit identity is wanted by the Fire Nation. What do you think would happen if people realised the two were the same person?"

"Oh, right."

Zuko lowered his blade again. "Good. Now get out of here."

Aang knew better than to argue. Before Zuko could issue any new threats, the monk shot off in a whirlwind of dust, moving so quickly that he was like an indistinguishable blur of colour. Zuko watched his silhouette fade entirely from view before he continued his trek back to his boat.

Consider the debt repaid, Avatar.

A life for a life, aid in battle for aid in battle. Now the two of them were even. Zuko had even managed to humiliate and stop Zhao from capturing the Avatar. It wasn't a bad deal, really. Except he still felt unsettled.

We work well together.

The thought sprung unbidden to his mind, just as it had the first time they'd fought side by side.

He gritted his teeth. Maybe the Blue Spirit could play temporary ally to the Avatar when it suited him, but the banished Prince of the Fire Nation would never be able to do so. Not that he wanted to. Zuko knew what was important. Going home was important. Making his father proud of him was important. Befriending a twelve-year-old boy with a skill for being irritating beyond reason was not important. Yet even as Zuko joined his uncle on the main ship and ordered his crew to set a course for the North Pole, the thought could not quite be shaken from his mind.

They really had worked well together.

Chapter Text

Two days had passed since the fight with Zhao on the riverbank. Zuko had tried to banish all memory of the event from his mind, knowing it would only distract him, but that was easier said than done. Teaming up with the Avatar again, however briefly, had been a bad idea. A good warrior knew to stay focussed. A good warrior knew not to let himself humanise his enemy, but Zuko seemed to have forgotten his training. Now, all sorts of complicated thoughts would infiltrate his mind. It didn't help that the kid had brought up the healing incident again.

Zuko stared at his palms, remembering the warmth that had connected him to that bleeding wound. Remembering how cold, empty and fragile he had felt afterwards. His healing powers had terrified him. Still did. It had taken almost five days for his bending to return to normal, and that was with being forced to absorb as much natural energy from the sun as possible. He didn't like to think of what would happen if he accidentally triggered the ability a second time. It wasn't as if he had sat down in front of the Avatar and thought to heal; the act itself had been instinctive. That worried him more than he cared to admit. What was he supposed to do when he had strange powers lurking inside of him that he couldn't control and which, when used, left him debilitated?

His hands trembled. He gripped his knees and closed his eyes, exhaling deeply as he forced his body into a state of calm. Breathe in and out, in and out. The four candles flickered on the meditation table in front of him, matching his breaths and uniting him with the flames. He could feel the fire, feel it merging with his inner flame and melting away all the messy tangles in his mind. He was warmth and light and all he had to do was breathe.

"You should know better than anyone that fire isn't just destruction."

"See, but that's the thing ... my master told me that it's impossible for fire to heal, yet you healed me, so I was just wondering how you—"

Zuko gritted his teeth. One of the candles stuttered violently, then went out with a curl of smoke. No. He would not dwell on those thoughts again. He would not let himself be suffocated by childish fears. It didn't matter if every scroll he had read on bending suggested that what he had done was impossible. He would focus on the fire, focus on the way it intensified and dimmed with each breath. In and out, in and out. That was it. Just breathe.

"There is something unusual about your son's method of calling upon his inner fire. I have tried to teach him the proper technique, but—"

"He has the eyes, Princess Ursa. If Prince Zuko should turn out to be—"

"We will have to watch him. Make sure he doesn't—"

"It's not natural. I saw the bruises and—"

"Never do that again, Zuko! Do you understand? Never do that again!"

"Fire is life."

The rest of the candles went out with a hiss. Zuko tightened his grip on his knees, keeping his eyes shut as darkness surrounded him. He remembered now. It was his mother who had spoken the words, the ones that had first triggered him to heal the Avatar. His firebending instructor, Master Mizuto, had been especially harsh with him that day, frustrated with his lack of progress in offensive firebending. Then his mother had caught him cradling a wounded turtle duck in his hands and had thought—well, she'd never actually told Zuko what she'd thought, only that it was wrong and that he should never do it again.

It was the first time his mother had truly lost her temper with him and the shock of seeing her like that, so angry and frightening, had made him run away in tears. Later, she had found him crying behind the big cherry tree. He had thought she was going to yell at him again, but she'd simply pulled him into her arms and apologised over and over. He had scared her, she had confessed. For a moment she had thought—well, it didn't matter what she had thought, but he must know that she still loved him and would never hurt him.

"But you must promise me, Zuko," she had said earnestly, pulling back from him to meet his eyes. "Promise me that you will never try to use your firebending for anything other than what your instructors teach you to do. Promise me that you will do exactly as they ask of you and no more."

"But—"

"No buts!"

Then she had hugged him close, smoothing a hand through his hair. "Fire is life, Zuko. You know this. You have always known this, but for the sake of your own you must ignore your instincts and do what I ask. You must listen to Master Mizuto and become the firebender that the Fire Nation expects you to be. Promise me!"

Tears had streamed down his cheeks as he had looked up into his mother's face. "I promise."

That was ten years ago. Back then, Zuko had not understood why his mother had been so afraid. Now, at the age of sixteen, he had his suspicions and none of them made him feel any better. Fragments of memory were slowly coming together. All the strange conversations he had overheard between his mother and Shizue, his mother's lady-in-waiting. All the wary looks Master Mizuto had cast his way when teaching him firebending and the way his mother had insisted that he had to learn how to become a powerful fighter, as if he could have been anything else.

"She had known," Zuko whispered. "Mum and Shizue, they had both known."

His stomach knotted and lurched. How could he have not seen it before? There was no reason for his mother to have got so upset at the sight of her six-year-old son holding a wounded turtle duck in his hands. No reason at all unless she had been afraid that he might heal it.

"He has the eyes, Princess Ursa."

Zuko brought the candles back to life with a flick of his wrist. A soft glow filled the cabin. Trembling all over, he stood up and walked to the cabinet to pick up the small mirror he used for shaving. Gold eyes stared back at him—not the rich amber like what his father, mother and sister had, not even the reddish brown like his uncle or the typical darker browns and greys seen in the Fire Nation. His eyes were gold. Pale gold.

Unnatural, his reflection hissed.

Zuko shoved the mirror face-down on the cabinet. His heart hammered against the walls of his ribs like a wounded sparrowkeet desperate to break free. Why had his mother not told him? Why had she been so afraid? What—what was wrong with him?

"It's because you're not normal, Zuzu. That's why Mother has Shizue watch you so closely. They both think you're a monster." An innocent smile. "Didn't you know?"

Zuko covered his face with his hands. That was a lie. Azula always lied. Mother had loved him. She had just been scared; she had told him so herself.

Of what? a small voice demanded. Why should she be afraid that you can heal? Healing helps people, but she told you it was wrong. She got angry at you just for holding a wounded turtle duck.

He shook his head, trying to banish the voices from his mind. Mother had loved him. She had always loved him. It was Azula who was the monster. Always Azula.

The door to his cabin opened and Zuko quickly dropped his hands from his face to see his uncle enter. Iroh had been smiling, but his good humour faded as soon as he took in his nephew's appearance. Zuko wondered what the old man saw. Did he also see gold eyes and think monster?

"Is something wrong?" Iroh asked, closing the door behind him. "You look pale."

Zuko averted his gaze. Thoughts were still racing through his mind, tangling into confused knots while his emotions swirled inside him like a firestorm. He just didn't understand. Even if his mother had been right to stop him from discovering his healing powers as a child—because Agni knew he hated the ability now—that still didn't explain why she and Shizue had feared that he might have said powers. The rest of the bending world seemed to believe it was impossible. It just didn't make sense, and that bothered him.

A hand came to rest on his shoulder. Zuko glanced down to see his uncle staring at him in concern. His stomach twisted. The child in him wanted to demand answers from his uncle, just as he had always done when he felt confused; the disillusioned teenager wondered if he could even trust this man. There were so many secrets, so many things that didn't add up. Zuko was at a loss what to believe. All he had was his mother's warning: to hide his healing abilities. It wasn't much, but he had to trust that she'd had his best interests at heart, because if he didn't, if he stopped believing that she had only ever been trying to protect him, then everything else she'd said must also be a lie. Zuko couldn't bear that. His mother had been everything to him. Everything.

But he just felt so confused.

A crease formed on Iroh's brow. "Nephew," he began in a soft voice, "I have told you before not to keep things bottled up. Please talk to me. Perhaps I can be of help."

Zuko looked the other way, still feeling torn as to what he should do. In the end, the decision was made for him. The sound of the ship's horn went off in two short blasts.

"Why are we changing course to port?" Zuko questioned, shrugging free of his uncle's grasp and taking a step towards the door. "I never ordered the lieutenant to do so."

"Ah, that's because I did."

"Uncle!"

"Now, Nephew, there's no need to get upset. You know I would not have interfered with your orders unless it was for an emergency."

Zuko's eyes narrowed. "Like your lotus tile emergency?"

"Not quite. Two of the strings on the liuqin have broken and there is no way to replace them with the stock we have on ship." Iroh heaved a gusty sigh. "You know we can't have music night without someone to play the liuqin."

Zuko let out a growl. "Thank you, Uncle. Now if Zhao captures the Avatar before me because we went on another one of your useless detours, I can at least comfort myself with the knowledge that you and the crew managed to enjoy music night."

Iroh's mouth stretched into a smile. "I knew I was lucky to have such an understanding nephew."

Zuko closed his eyes in pained exasperation.

"Which reminds me," Iroh continued, either oblivious or simply choosing to ignore his nephew's reaction. "Will you be joining us for music night tonight? I remember how well you used to play the tsungi horn and I know the crew would love to have you attend."

Still with his eyes closed, Zuko pointed a finger to the door. "Get out."

"Now, Zuko—"

"Out!"

Iroh sighed. "As you wish, but you know the offer still stands."

"I think I'll pass," Zuko said dryly, and then slammed the door shut behind his uncle's retreating figure.

He sighed and rubbed his temples, trying to ward off a sudden headache. Today was just not turning out to be his day.

oOo

Two days of almost straight flying had not been fun. Neither had fighting off the Fire Nation at the Northern Air Temple, but at least then Aang had not been forced to put up with Sokka grumbling about how slow Appa was going, or how Momo kept stealing all the food, or how he wondered if they were ever going to find the Northern Water Tribe when their only clues were that it was somewhere up north and surrounded by water.

"You know," Sokka had said sarcastically, "because we've been travelling north for two days and are still surrounded by water."

Aang could admit that he might have got a little snippy in response—okay, maybe a lot—but he was just as tired as the rest of them. It was therefore a relief when they finally came across the Northern Water Tribe patrol boats and were guided inside the city walls. The nice thing was that Aang didn't really feel the cold, being an airbender. The downside was that everything was made of ice and that got a little stifling and boring after a while. He could admit the city was impressive, even beautiful in a stark, icy kind of way, but there was just so much white.

"Seriously," Aang said as they were shown to their room. "How can people live like this? Everything is just ice. Ice, ice, ice. No trees. No grass. Just"—he ran his hand along the wall, then showed his glistening palm—"ice."

Sokka stared at him with faint disbelief. "You're kidding, right?"

Aang blinked. Then, as he took in Sokka and Katara's blue coats and fur, two pink spots formed on his cheeks. Right. Southern Water Tribe. Ice.

"I mean, um, the city is really nice," Aang hastily corrected, forcing a grin. "Really, really nice. Lots of ice and, um, yeah. Nice ice."

Sokka slapped his palm against his forehead.

Katara dumped her sleeping bag on the floor. "Well, I think the city is beautiful, and once we learn waterbending, Aang, it will be even better."

"Now that I can agree with," Aang said, cracking a grin. "I wonder if we'll get to see any waterbending tonight at the feast."

"I'm sure we will," Katara said. "They seem pretty big on welcoming committees here. Not like back home. The only greeting you get there is a dry hello from Gran Gran and the kids throwing snowballs. Right, Sokka?"

Sokka sighed wistfully.

Katara frowned at her brother. "Sokka?" She waved her hand in front of his face. "Hey! Earth to Sokka!"

"Yeah," Sokka said with a dreamy smile. "She really is beautiful."

Katara and Aang exchanged confused glances.

"I don't even want to know," Katara said with a roll of her eyes.

Aang just grinned. It sounded like Sokka had found a new friend.

Speaking of friends, he wondered what Zuko was doing. Their last parting hadn't exactly been the best, but it had still been better than the one before. No one had been paralysed and no fireballs had been thrown—well, unless you counted Zhao. In a way, Aang had made good progress in getting Zuko to soften towards him, though there were still many things that troubled him.

Aang breathed out a sigh. I hope you're okay, Zuko, wherever you are.

He didn't know why, but he kept getting an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach whenever he thought of the prince. He sure hoped it didn't mean anything. Regardless of what Zuko had done or was planning to do, Aang didn't like the thought of Zuko being hurt. The only problem was that his feelings had never been wrong before.

oOo

It was the odd clunk that alerted Zuko to the fact he was no longer alone with his misery on the ship. Zhao had taken everyone else, and his uncle had gone for a walk. There should have been no clunks of any sort. Unease settled in the pit of his stomach. Zuko wasted no time in searching the deck and upper levels. No one was there, though he paused when he spotted a green, reptilian bird perched on the rigging outside the topmost cabin window. Why did that parrot thing seem so familiar?

A bone-jarring boom tore through the ship. Zuko gasped as the very world seemed to shudder and he was jolted off balance. What in the hell? He scrambled to regain his balance and get to the deck, but it was too late. There was another series of booms and then metal groaned and flames were suddenly coming towards him. Too fast! The heat washed over him in intense waves, getting hotter and hotter even as the flames got closer and closer, threatening to burn.

Threatening to kill.

Frantic, he brought up a wall of fire just as the explosion collided with his body. The sheer power of it was overwhelming. Bits of twisted metal lashed at him and all the heat swallowed him up. No, it pushed. A choked cry escaped his lips as the blast shoved him backwards through the cabin window, knocking the breath right out of his lungs. Glass shattered and drifted around him like broken diamonds. Zuko blinked dazedly, his sluggish mind only half recognising that he was falling.

No, he thought as he finally grasped what was happening. I can't give up. I can't—

But his body continued to fall, and then there was darkness.

oOo

Aang dropped his plate with a clatter. He placed his head in his hands, breathing in deeply to ease his sudden nausea. He felt terrible, as if a cold fist had squeezed his heart and choked his lungs, making his head swim and his stomach twist into knots. Suddenly, he really regretted eating that second helping of seaweed soup.

Katara placed a hand on his shoulder. "Aang, are you alright? You don't look so well."

"I—I don't know," he admitted, raising his head from his hands. "I just got this really awful feeling all of a sudden."

Sokka, who had overheard their conversation, leaned in closer and lowered his voice. "I think it was the soup. I'm feeling a bit gassy myself. Should have just stuck with the sea prunes."

Aang shook his head. "I'm not feeling gassy, Sokka. I just—"

"Just what?" Katara prompted, looking at him in concern.

Aang rubbed his hands over his face. "I don't know. Something just feels wrong."

"What do you mean?" Sokka exclaimed, drawing quite a few eyes to their table. "This isn't another of your weird Avatar things, is it? We're not going to suddenly be attacked by rampaging panda spirits, are we? Because I had enough of that the last time!"

"Sokka, keep your voice down," Katara hissed, giving her brother a light whack around his head.

"Ow!"

"Stop being such a baby," she retorted. "I didn't hit you that hard."

"Hard enough."

Katara ignored him and glanced back at Aang. "Well? Is it something to do with the spirits?"

Aang closed his eyes, trying to search his feelings. It didn't feel like there were any malevolent spirits around. This was something more personal, as if a hand had reached deep inside of him and taken something precious, leaving him cold and shaken. He felt like he'd just stumbled across Monk Gyatso's skeleton all over again. Oddly, the only person he could see in his mind was the image of a scowling teenager with a scar on his face.

"It's him," Aang murmured.

Sokka's brow furrowed. "Who? Did you see something? Is it a rampaging panda spirit?" He clutched at his hair. "What are you talking about?"

Aang just shook his head in a helpless gesture. He didn't know, but somehow he knew it had something to do with Zuko. Something had happened to the prince. He could feel it in his heart.

Katara gripped his hand. "Aang, you really don't look well. Perhaps you should lie down."

"I'm fine. Really," he added when she continued to look at him sceptically. "I don't even feel dizzy anymore."

She released his hand. "If you say so."

Sokka thrust his head between the two, pointing a finger at Aang. "Hey, I still want to know who this 'him' person is. You just can't make cryptic remarks and then not explain what you meant."

Aang sighed. "Okay, okay, but I don't really understand it myself. This is just a guess, alright?"

The siblings nodded, urging him to continue. Aang exhaled deeply. He really didn't want to lie, but he knew that things would only get more complicated if he admitted it was Zuko he had sensed. Maybe if he twisted the truth just a little...

"You remember the Blue Spirit?" Aang asked, looking at his friends.

Sokka scratched his chin. "Wanted guy with the blue mask, right?"

"Yes, Sokka," Katara said, rolling her eyes. "He is the wanted guy with the blue mask. Oh, and let's not forget that he saved Aang's life!"

"I know that. Sheesh, there's no need to get so touchy about it."

"I'm not getting touchy! I'm just saying that you could show a bit more respect to the guy who stopped Aang from bleeding to death and being shipped off to the Fire Nation!"

Aang repressed a sigh. "Anyway," he said firmly, before the siblings could start arguing in earnest. "When I felt sick just before, I got the impression that something had happened to the Blue Spirit. Something really bad."

Katara gasped and placed a hand over her mouth. "Are you sure?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. Like I said, I don't really understand this myself. I just know that all of a sudden I felt really awful and all of those feelings pointed to him."

Sokka scrunched his nose. "You really are a weird kid sometimes."

"Gee, thanks," Aang said, slumping his shoulders.

Katara glared at her brother. "Sokka!"

"What? All I'm saying is that all this talk of feelings and Blue Spirits is getting a little weird for me. I liked it much better when—" he broke off as he caught sight of a pretty girl with silvery white hair. "Excuse me for a moment."

Aang watched as Sokka bounded over to talk to Princess Yue. Beside him, Katara sighed.

"And there he goes," she said dryly. "You realise we're not going to see him for the rest of the night. Unless Yue tells him to leave her alone, of course."

Aang shrugged. "At least he's happy, right?"

"I guess." Katara glanced back at Aang and a crease formed on her brow. "So you really think that something has happened to the Blue Spirit?"

"I don't know. Like I said, it's just a feeling."

"What will you do?"

"What can I do?" he said helplessly. "It's not as if I can jump on Appa and go looking for him. I wouldn't even know where to begin."

Not to mention the fact that the Blue Spirit was actually Prince Zuko, who, if their last meeting was anything to go by, still seemed quite determined to capture him.

Katara's frown deepened. "I suppose you're right. I just can't help but feel worried. I wish there was something we could do. He saved your life, Aang."

"I know. I'm worried about him too. He's a tough guy, but sometimes he can be pretty reckless."

A smile lifted the corners of her mouth. "Sounds like someone else I know."

Aang had the grace to give a sheepish grin, but inwardly he just felt sick with worry. He hoped that he was wrong about the strange feeling he had got, but something in him whispered that this was no mistake. Something had definitely happened to Zuko. It killed him to know there was nothing he could do to help.

Don't you dare go dying on me, Masky. I'm not ready to give up on you just yet.

oOo

Everything hurt. Zuko felt like he had been crushed by a stampede of komodo rhinos, then lit on fire, then stabbed with a hundred knives just to add the finishing touch. Even just trying to breathe made him feel like his body was coming apart at the seams; every laboured inhale and exhale forced sharp stabs of pain to slice through his chest. He wished he could sit up to see how much damage had been done, but he couldn't seem to move. He couldn't even blink. The only thing that existed in his world was the agony coursing through his body and the suffocating darkness pressing down on him from all sides, holding him trapped.

Don't panic, he told himself. You've been in this situation before. Just focus on the fire. Focus on the way it burns with light. Ignore the darkness. Ignore the pain. Just focus on the fire.

He exhaled a jagged, agonised breath. Yes, he could almost feel it now, that small flicker of warmth inside him. Instinct told him that he needed to go deeper, so he reached down with invisible fingers, pushing through walls of flame to the spark of life he could feel thrumming at the centre of his inner fire, just like a tiny heartbeat. Slowly, he let the rhythm fill his body, merging with his own heartbeat so that he and the fire were of one heart, one breath. It was just like when he meditated and he clung to that spark with all his soul, letting it cradle him in its heat, burning away his fears and pain. He was warmth and light and all he had to do was breathe.

"Zuko."

A muffled voice called his name. Too distant. Too painful. He wanted to stay with the flames.

"Zuko, you have to wake up."

The voice was getting closer. It sounded upset.

"Please, Nephew. You must snap out of this!"

A sharp intake of breath. Nephew. That's right. He had an uncle.

The flames he had wrapped himself up in vanished and Zuko dimly became aware of something wet dabbing at his cheek. Tensing at what he felt was an invasion of his person, he tried to open his eyes, but his eyelids felt heavy and thick and as if they had been glued together. It was just like when he had woken up for the first time after his Agni Kai with his father, and the raw panic that immediately gripped his mind had him lashing out in a wild tangle of limbs.

"Zuko! Zuko!"

Hands closed around his shoulders, pushing him back against the mattress. Zuko couldn't help the small sob that escaped his lips, though he wasn't sure if it was from the intensity of his injuries or just the momentary despair of finding himself blind and helpless again. He hated that feeling more than anything.

"Zuko," the voice said again, much more gently this time. "Calm down. It's just me."

With an effort Zuko managed to force his eyelids open, letting him see past a swarm of black dots to the fuzzy image of an old man with a beard leaning over him. He blinked just to make sure the image was still there. It was.

"Uncle?" Zuko said weakly.

Iroh let out a relieved sigh. "Good, you're finally awake."

Zuko tried to sit up, but the sledgehammer of pain that rammed his nerves had him collapsing back against the pillows in an instant. He breathed in another sharp breath, feeling his stomach twist and heave as his body protested at even this small motion. Spirits, he was a wreck.

"Careful," Iroh said, helping him to get back into a more comfortable position. "You've broken three of your ribs and have quite a nasty collection of cuts on your body." He shook his head sadly. "You're lucky that explosion didn't kill you."

Zuko placed a hand over his eyes, wincing slightly as his fingers brushed against tender flesh. "I think it would have if I hadn't been able to bring up a fire shield just before I was hit. That explosion hadn't been designed to leave survivors."

"Did you see who placed the explosives?"

Zuko barely repressed a growl. "It was those pirates we came across a few weeks back."

He'd realised why the bird had seemed so familiar now. It had belonged to that backstabbing captain.

Iroh stroked his beard. "Pirates don't usually go out of their way to make assassination attempts, especially if there is nothing of profit to loot."

"I know. That's why I think they were paid."

"By whom?"

Gold eyes narrowed. "Admiral Zhao."

"That's a heavy accusation, Nephew."

"But a true one." Zuko met his gaze. "You've seen what he's done to sabotage my mission, Uncle. You know I'm right."

Iroh accepted this assertion in silence. "What will you do?"

A smile twisted Zuko's bloodied face. "What I always planned to do. I'm going to capture the Avatar, and Zhao is going to help me do it."

"I don't doubt you, Nephew," Iroh said calmly, "but don't you think you should rest first? Those injuries are not going to disappear."

"There isn't enough time. Zhao's fleet is leaving tomorrow and with them goes my only chance of getting to the North Pole. I have to get on one of those ships."

Iroh's brow creased. "Zuko, I know you're dedicated, but there is such a thing as pushing yourself too hard. You almost died today. Please, just—"

"I don't care! A bit of pain is nothing to what will happen if Zhao captures the Avatar before me!" He took in a shuddering breath and his voice dropped to a murmur as he looked the other way. "I have to do this."

Iroh stared at him for a long moment. "Very well," he said grimly, "but don't think I'm going to let you do this alone."

"What?"

"I'm coming with you. In fact, I think it's about time I pay our friend Admiral Zhao a visit." A smile curved his mouth. "After all, with my nephew dead and the ship gone, what else am I supposed to do except join the admiral on his expedition to the north?"

Understanding lit Zuko's eyes. "Do you think he will fall for it?"

"Of course." A lazy wink. "I am a master of deception."

Zuko resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "Right."

Iroh's smile widened a fraction. "Don't worry, Nephew. We shall find a way to get you on one of Admiral Zhao's ships, but for now you must listen to your uncle and rest. You're going to need all of your strength if you want to capture the Avatar."

For once, Zuko did not argue. He really did feel terrible, so he closed his eyes and let his uncle finish redressing his wounds.

"Strange. These cuts …"

"Mm?" Zuko mumbled sleepily. “What is it?”

"No, never mind. It's nothing." Iroh clasped his hand briefly. "Just rest well, my nephew."

Zuko did not respond. He had already fallen asleep.

Chapter Text

The inhabitants of the Northern Water Tribe had looked on in wonder when the grey snow first appeared. Katara had simply gripped the pendant at her neck, closing her eyes to block out the sight. She remembered the phenomenon of the grey snowfalls from her childhood, a blend of soot and sleet that had always resulted in blood. There was only one explanation for such an occurrence: the Fire Nation was coming to invade, and that meant the small measure of peace she, Aang and her brother had found within the city walls would soon be reduced to ashes. She should have known the idyll could not last. The Fire Nation always did ruin everything.

Her eyes narrowed as she looked out across the ocean to where the fleet of steel monsters waited to start their assault. The last time she had seen the Fire Nation navy attack, she had been too young and defenceless to make a difference. This time she swore she would not stand by on the sidelines. For days she had trained with Aang under Master Pakku, learning offensive waterbending techniques and perfecting her skill with her element. She was not that weak little girl anymore. She would fight, and she would make sure her enemies were defeated.

Katara tightened her grip on her necklace, feeling the carved patterns on the stone dig into her palm. I won't let you take anyone else away from me, she silently promised. Not this time.

The drums were still reverberating from within the city, pounding with the rhythm of a hundred heartbeats as they called the warriors to arms. Katara released the necklace and turned to meet her brother's gaze. The three lines on his forehead glowed in vivid red, a mark of his courage for volunteering to join a team of recruits on a dangerous mission. Her heart clenched as she remembered Chief Arnook's warning that many of them would not return, but she knew better than to ask her brother to rethink his decision. Like her, Sokka was willing to risk everything to protect the ones he loved. He could not be with Princess Yue, but he could fight for her. He could save Yue's people. Katara knew that their father would have been proud.

"You ready?" Sokka asked, placing a hand on her shoulder.

Katara nodded. "I know what I have to do."

Together, they turned to face the oncoming ships. She tried not to flinch when she saw the first ball of flames soar towards the wall, shattering ice and burning through flesh with sickening ease. There was no room for fear on the battlefield. She had to be strong like the wolf; she had to stand her ground and be prepared to defend her pack.

I won't run this time.

The Fire Nation had already destroyed her family once. She would not let them do it again.

oOo

Zuko drove the paddle into the water with swift, determined strokes, forcing the kayak to go faster. The screams of battle had finally died down, but, try as he might, he could not get his uncle's words out of his mind.

"Ever since I lost my son ... I think of you as my own."

He gritted his teeth. Now was not the time to get distracted by personal feelings. He had to focus on capturing the Avatar. This could be his last chance.

Careful to avoid the direct path of the watchtowers and outer wall, Zuko weaved his way through the icebergs and headed towards the rough expanse of shore he'd circled on the map he'd snatched from Zhao's cabin. He dragged the kayak up onto the ice cap so that it would not float away, then looked up at the wall to scout out a good place to start climbing. A low hiss escaped his mouth when he saw the warriors patrolling the upper rim. Apparently, he had been wrong in thinking this section would be less guarded.

Frustrated, he looked around for another way into the city. A group of turtle seals dived into an opening in the ice not far from him. His uncle would have told him he was crazy for even contemplating to follow, but Zuko knew that he was running out of options. If there were warriors patrolling such a useless part of the wall as this one, there were bound to be even more guarding the other sections. He would just have to take his chances and hope that the underwater tunnel would lead to the city. Besides, the turtle seals had to be coming up for air somewhere.

In hindsight, his plan had been really stupid. Turtle seals had a lot of blubber on their bodies to protect them from the stabbing, death-trap iciness of the water. Zuko did not. He was crippled by shivers, felt his heartbeat slow to a sickeningly weak flutter, and it was only his breath of fire that stopped him from becoming completely useless. That he might die in these caves had become an all too real possibility. It was so impossibly cold and his body was getting so impossibly tired.

Keep moving!

He took a deep breath and headed back under the freezing water. It wasn’t like he had a choice in the matter. He had come too far to turn back now. Death-trap or not, he had to get inside the city.

oOo

Aang clutched a hand to his heart, collapsing to his knees in the muddy Spirit World swamp. It was that feeling again, the awful one that made him feel like something cold had reached inside of him and snatched away a part of himself. He breathed in deeply, allowing the dizziness and urge to retch to pass, but a faint throbbing in his shoulder remained.

"Zuko," Aang murmured, touching the spot where the arrow had pierced his flesh.

He wanted nothing more in that moment than to return back to the world of the living and make sure that Zuko was alright. The ache in his chest told him that something had happened. It physically pained him to think that, even now, Zuko might be out there suffering with no one to help. Except Aang was currently stuck in the Spirit World, and as much as he wanted to help Zuko, he also knew that he had to find the Moon and Ocean Spirits first. The Northern Water Tribe was counting on him.

Scrambling back to his feet, Aang looked around for the orb of light that he had been following, but all he saw was a wall of trees. He sighed and started trudging in what he hoped was the right direction. A patch of swamp in front of him started to glow. Aang's eyes widened and he stepped back just as the form of an old man in Fire Nation robes appeared on the surface of the water.

"Avatar Roku!" Aang exclaimed.

"Hello, Aang," Roku responded with a kindly smile. "It is good to see you again."

Aang didn't bother to waste time with pleasantries and jumped right in to explaining his predicament: how the Fire Nation was invading, how he wanted to find the Moon and Ocean spirits to ask for advice. Roku listened thoughtfully, but the answer he gave was not the one that Aang had been hoping to hear. Apparently, the Moon and Ocean Spirits had crossed over to the mortal world and there was now only one being whom Roku knew might be able to help: Koh, a dangerous spirit who was known for stealing the faces of people who showed any emotion around him.

"Sounds like a great guy," Aang said, swallowing back a lump of fear.

Roku's brow creased. "I wish there was another way, but Koh is the only one who might know where the Ocean and Moon Spirits have chosen to reside in the mortal world. I am sorry, Aang."

"It's okay. I'll just be extra cautious."

Roku still didn't look happy, but both he and Aang knew it was the Avatar's job to take such risks. There was nothing either of them could do. That was when Aang remembered the awful feeling he had got earlier.

"Um, Roku?" he said hesitantly.

"Yes, Aang?"

Aang glanced down at his hands and twiddled his thumbs. "Well, um, it's just that I've been getting these weird feelings of late, and I was just wondering if—"

"Ah." Roku let out a deep sigh. "You are speaking of your spiritual connection with my great-grandson."

Aang blinked. "Prince Zuko is your great-grandson? But that's just—" A crease formed on his brow. "Wait, did you just say I have a spiritual connection with Zuko?"

Roku nodded.

"But how? I don't understand."

A sad smile curved Roku's mouth. "There was a time when the Fire Nation called them the Children of the Undying Fire, select sons and daughters of Agni who could commune with the very essence that gives us life. It was an incredibly rare gift. You were either born one of the Undying Fire or you were not. Not even the greatest firebending masters could hope to use their inner flame in such a way unless they had been born with the capability."

"Wait, are we still talking about Zuko?"

Roku nodded. "My great-grandson is a very special young man. He has the ability to heal, as you discovered for yourself when he used his power to save your life. In fact, I believe it is because he chose to heal you that you now feel this connection with him."

"I don't understand," Aang said, scrunching his face. "Katara has healed me plenty of times and I don't—"

"That is because Katara is a waterbender," Roku explained. "You have to understand, Aang. You weren't just wounded. You were dying from loss of blood. That is what makes the Children of the Undying Fire so special. They can use their inner fire to create life even if the spark that keeps a person alive has almost gone out. In Prince Zuko's case, he let his own energy flow into you so that he could restore the loss of your chi and replenish your blood at an unnaturally fast rate. I expect it was this fusion of energy that formed the spiritual bond between the two of you."

Aang's eyes widened. "So you're saying that he gave up a part of himself to heal me?"

"In a sense." Roku shook his head. "I do not have all of the answers. The Children of the Undying Fire were a rare kind of firebender whose power and history was lost to the world a long time ago—even before my time. What I can tell you is that what you are feeling now is a result of your connection to Prince Zuko. It is your body's way of telling you that your spirit is hurting. In reality, you've just been sensing that the spiritual bond joining you to him is about to be cut. It is a shadow of his pain as well as an echo of the wound that he healed."

Something cold settled in the pit of Aang's stomach. "Roku," he said in a small voice, "what does it mean if the bond is cut?"

The silence that followed was answer enough. Aang closed his eyes, feeling the cold spread inside him until his heart frosted with ice. That was twice now. Twice he had felt Zuko almost die.

"I am sorry," Roku said gently. "Such bonds have never been easy burdens to bear. I can see that you care for my great-grandson deeply. He is lucky to have you as a friend."

I don't even know if I can call him a friend, Aang wanted to say. Instead, he placed his fists together and bowed in the manner of the Air Nomads. "Thank you for telling me this, Roku.”

He was grateful to understand why he kept having those awful feelings, but right now he knew that he could do nothing for Zuko. He had to find Koh and the Moon and Ocean Spirits before it was too late. That and he just really didn't want to dwell on the fact that the boy who had chased him all over the world had almost died twice and Aang had been right there feeling it with him.

"Prince Zuko is strong," Roku said, understanding the reasoning behind Aang's reticence. "He will not be easily defeated."

"I know," Aang said quietly.

But that didn't stop him from feeling sick with worry. Zuko might be a powerful warrior, but Aang had seen for himself how reckless the prince could be. It didn't help that it was just a few minutes ago that he had felt their connection almost be severed.

You'd better still be there when I get back, Zuko.

Aang still had much he wanted to say to the prince of the Fire Nation. For now, however, he had to focus on saving the Northern Water Tribe, and to do that he had to put all emotion aside. There was no way he was going to let Koh steal his face.

oOo

The moon had reached its peak by the time Zuko discovered the small wooden door that led to the Spirit Oasis. Somehow, he just knew that this was the place where Aang was hiding. He had not been disappointed. Glancing around the lush trees and flowers, he spotted a familiar boy sitting cross-legged in front of a pool of water. Aang's eyes were glowing a brilliant white, as was the arrow on his forehead. Aang must have shifted into the Avatar State. That could pose a problem.

Zuko noticed two girls standing a few feet behind the Avatar, one of whom he recognised as the same waterbender who was always travelling around with Aang. He frowned. Something wasn't right here. He decided to wait and listen to see if he could gather any information regarding the situation.

"Is he okay?" Zuko heard the girl with the white hair ask.

"He's crossing into the Spirit World," Katara answered. "He'll be fine as long as we don't move his body. That's his way back to the physical world."

Zuko smiled grimly. If what those two girls said was true, the Avatar was currently helpless. It was more than he could have hoped for as now all he had to do was get the rid of the Water Tribe girls. That shouldn't be too much of a problem. He remembered how useless Katara had been at manipulating her element from when he had captured her with the pirates; the other girl didn't even look like a fighter.

"Maybe we should get some help," the girl with the white hair said, turning to leave.

Katara gave a reassuring look to her friend. "No. He's my friend. I'm perfectly capable of protecting him."

Zuko stepped out from his hiding place. "Well, aren't you a big girl now."

Katara turned at the sound of his voice. "No," she breathed.

"Yes," he responded in a satisfied hiss. He advanced towards her and his eyes narrowed as he stopped on the bridge that led to where Aang was meditating. "Hand him over and I won't have to hurt you."

For answer, she took up a bending stance. Zuko's jaw clenched. He did not want to fight. He was still exhausted from his swim through the underwater caves, it hurt every time he breathed, and he was quite certain that the stitches on his back had split open again. Even now, he could feel the sticky blood pooling down his spine and the sharp sting of flesh being tugged apart. Something in her gaze told him that she would not listen to reason, though, nor would she let herself be intimidated. She wanted to fight.

Zuko exhaled and compartmentalised every ache in his body to the far reaches of his mind. Then he attacked.

oOo

Katara couldn't believe how close she had come to losing Aang. Granted, it was the first time she had fought against Zuko in one-on-one combat. She had quickly discovered that engaging with a skilled firebender was very different to training with the other waterbenders while under Master Pakku's tutelage. Zuko had not hesitated; he had come at her again and again, releasing offensive attack after offensive attack in a relentless effort to wear her down. Still, she had managed to beat him in the end, if only by a fraction.

She cast an uneasy glance at the figure trapped in the ice. Zuko didn't even twitch. Good. The last thing she wanted was to have to deal with him again. She shifted her attention back to Aang and wondered how long it would take for him to find the Ocean and Moon Spirits. The sun was already beginning to rise. She knew the next attack would start soon, yet their one hope of stopping the Fire Nation was still trapped in the Spirit World.

"Please hurry, Aang," Katara murmured. "We need you."

The boy simply sat there like an empty shell while his spirit journeyed along unseen paths. Katara sighed. She turned just as a growl was heard from the direction of the cliff. Her heart jumped in her chest. She spun around and discovered flames soaring straight for, released from the palms of an enraged prince. She brought up a quick water shield, but the attack pushed right through her defences and hit her square in the stomach, knocking her back with a painful thud against a tree. Dizzily, she raised her eyes to see Zuko standing over her with one hand gripping the back of Aang's cape. From this vantage point, he almost seemed to be glowing with the golden shades of dawn.

"You rise with the moon," he said, looking down at her with a hard glint in his eyes. "I rise with the sun."

She blinked and watched him fade in and out of view. A flash of pale gold caught her attention. She focussed on the colour in an attempt to stay alert—anything to stop Zuko from getting away—but the pull of oblivion was too much. Her vision hazed over and she slumped to the ground. The last thing she remembered before she slipped into unconsciousness was the image of a pair of pale gold eyes. Prince Zuko's eyes.

When she awoke, both boys were gone.

Chapter Text

Aang opened his eyes with a gasp as his spirit merged back with his body. He suddenly became aware of something tight restricting his arms and legs, and he wriggled uncomfortably, feeling the burn of rope dig into his skin. That was when he noticed the boy standing opposite him in the cave, watching him through pale gold eyes.

"Zuko!" he exclaimed.

"Welcome back," Zuko said calmly.

Aang stared, torn between relief and dismay. Relief because now he knew for certain that Zuko was alive, even if the teen did look a little worse for wear. However, Aang was also tied up and had a feeling that Zuko wasn't going to allow him to leave anytime soon. Still, Aang had to try. The Moon and Ocean Spirits were depending on him.

"Zuko, you have to let me go back to the Spirit Oasis," Aang said, struggling into a sitting position. "The spirits are in danger and—"

"You're not going anywhere."

"But you don't understand. Koh told me that—"

"Enough!" Zuko’s hands balled into smoking fists. "I didn't go through all of that trouble to capture you to then just let you walk out of here simply because you asked me nicely. You're staying right where you are, and when this blizzard has passed I'm going to take you back to my uncle, and then we're going to get the hell out of this freezing dump so I can go home!"

"But—"

"No!" Zuko yelled, slashing his hand through the air. "I don't care what you say! I don't care how many spirits are in danger! I've had enough! I finally have a chance to take you back to my father and I am not going to waste it, so you are just going to sit there and keep your stupid mouth shut until we leave! Got it?"

Aang shook his head. "I can't do that. As the Avatar, it's my duty to keep balance in the world. That balance is about to be broken. Please, Zuko, you have to let me go. I'm the only one who can protect the Moon and Ocean Spirits. If I'm not there—"

"Enough," Zuko repeated, though his voice was much softer this time.

"But—"

"I'm not letting you leave.”

Aang's shoulders slumped. "We've helped each other before," he said in a small voice. "What makes it so different this time?"

Zuko laughed bitterly. "You really are just a naïve child, aren't you?"

A crease formed on Aang's brow. He didn't understand. When he said as much, Zuko crossed over to the cave opening and looked out into the blizzard, keeping his back turned.

"What do you think will happen if I let you go now?" Zuko asked after a moment.

Aang paused to consider the matter. "Well, I don't know, but at least no one would be able to kill the Moon or Ocean Spirits."

"Right, but then what happens afterwards?"

"I—"

"You've just saved your precious spirits and then what?" Zuko persisted in a hard voice, turning around to face Aang. "Do you think I'm stupid enough to believe that you're just going to wrap yourself up in those ropes again and come back to the Fire Nation with me?"

"Well, uh ..."

"Of course you're not going to! That's what you don't understand! All those times I let you go, all those times I helped you, as you put it—none of that did any good for me! My task for almost three years has been to capture you! You, the Avatar." He let out another bitter laugh. "But I let you go. I thought I could be honourable." His mouth twisted around the last word, as if it were something physically painful to speak.

Aang felt a stab of sympathy go through him. "Zuko—"

"Well, I'm not going to make the same mistake twice. I told you at the river that I wouldn’t show you mercy the next time we met, and I meant it. You shouldn't have trusted that Water Tribe peasant to protect you if you hadn't wanted to be caught. Now it's too late."

Aang chewed on his bottom lip. "You know, your father might have asked you to capture me, but it doesn't have to be this way. You can still—"

Zuko let out a growl of frustration. "You just don't get it, do you? I can't stop! I can't just ignore my father's orders! If I let you go again today, that's it! I'm finished!"

"I don't unde—"

"Of course you don't understand! How could you ever understand? You're an Air Nomad! You don't have a real home or family, but I—" he broke off and averted his face, hiding his expression from view. "It's been almost three years. I'm the Prince of the Fire Nation and I can't even step one foot on my country's soil unless I capture you." His hands trembled slightly and his voice softened to the barest whisper. "I just want to go home."

Aang let out a small breath, shocked by the vulnerability of that quiet confession. If he hadn't witnessed it for himself, he would not have believed it to be possible from the normally fierce prince. Before Aang could say anything, however, a jet of water flashed past him and struck Zuko in the chest, shoving the teen hard against the wall. There was an awful gasp. Aang's eyes widened as he realised the sound had come from Zuko, the same boy who had never once made a sound of pain during all of their fights together. Suddenly, Katara was standing beside Aang with a fresh water whip forming in her hand.

"No, stop!" Aang cried. "Can't you see he's hurt?"

But Katara wasn't listening and was already following up with a second attack. There was a thump, another awful gasp, and then Zuko slumped face-first to the ground where he lay very still. Aang's eyes widened. He started wriggling more frantically, desperate to get free of his bonds. Someone—probably Sokka—knelt beside him and cut his ropes. Aang rushed over to where Zuko had fallen and rolled him onto his back. He almost recoiled when he saw just how badly bruised and cut Zuko's face was; he hated to think what the rest of Zuko looked like.

"Come on, Aang," Sokka called, sheathing his knife and appropriating the discarded rope. "We need to get out of here."

"You're right," Aang agreed, remembering what Koh had told him. "The spirits are in danger. We need to get to the Spirit Oasis!"

Bending down, he looped Zuko's arms around his neck and stood to his feet, supporting as much of the prince's weight as he could manage. Sokka's eyes bugged open.

"Uh, Aang, why are you carrying the Angry Jerk on your back?"

"Because he's coming with us," Aang said firmly.

"What?" Katara exclaimed.

"Are you crazy?" Sokka demanded, staring at him as if he had grown an extra head.

"He's hurt! I'm not just going to leave him here!"

"Right," Sokka said sarcastically, "because it makes so much more sense to bring the guy who's constantly trying to kill us."

Aang ignored this remark and began half-dragging, half-carrying Zuko towards the cave mouth. Katara stepped forward, blocking his path.

"Aang," she tried to reason, "Zuko just captured you and probably would have already handed you over to the Fire Nation by now if it weren't for this blizzard. I don't think—"

"I don't care!" Aang interrupted. "He's hurt and has no one to help him. If we leave him here, he'll die!"

Without waiting for a response, Aang stepped around her and headed over to where Appa was waiting with Princess Yue outside the cave.

"What happened?" Yue gasped. "Are you alright?"

"Oh, he's fine," Sokka responded, coming up behind Aang with his sister in tow. "Unless you count the fact that he's gone completely insane."

When Yue looked confused, Sokka jerked a thumb at the unconscious figure draped over Aang's back. "He wants to take Prince Jerkbender over there back with us on Appa."

A crease formed on Yue's brow. "Oh."

Aang ignored this exchange and created a small gust of air to raise him, along with Zuko, up into the saddle. Carefully, he tried to ease the older boy off his back, knowing it probably wouldn't be a good idea to just let Zuko drop. This was easier said than done, but then another pair of hands reached out to grasp Zuko by the shoulders.

"Here," Katara said, taking on some of Zuko's deadweight. "Let me help you."

Aang smiled gratefully and, together, they lowered him onto his back. A rope was tossed in front of them.

"What's this for?" Katara asked, glancing over to look at her brother, who was now seated at the reins.

"I'd rather not be toasted to a crisp just because Aang decided to have one of his peace-loving airbender moments," Sokka remarked dryly. "If you all insist on being crazy and bringing Zuko back with us, you can at least tie him up."

"Fine," Aang agreed.

Sokka nodded and then urged Appa to fly with a gritted "yip, yip". Aang picked up the rope and started to wrap it around Zuko's chest, pinning his arms close to his side. Zuko's breathing sharpened from the pressure.

"What's wrong with him?" Yue asked, peering around the two to examine the unconscious boy.

"I'm not sure," Katara admitted. "I know I hit him hard, but I didn't hit him that hard."

Aang's heart clenched as he remembered the awful feelings he had got, the ones Roku had told him meant that Zuko had been in mortal danger. "I think Zuko was already injured," he offered quietly. "Katara probably just made it worse."

Katara folded her arms across her chest. "Hey, don't blame me that he's like this. I never told him to come into the Spirit Oasis and kidnap you. It's his own problem if he's hurt now."

Aang frowned but didn't say anything. That was when the moon turned red.

"Ugh," Yue groaned, clutching her head.

"Are you okay?" Sokka asked, glancing over his shoulder at her.

She squeezed her eyes shut in pain. "I feel faint."

"I feel it too," Aang murmured, touching a hand to his temple with a wince. He looked up at the blood-red moon. "The Moon Spirit is in trouble. We have to hurry!"

"Right!" Sokka gave a flick of the reins. "Yip, yip, Appa!"

The bison rumbled and increased his speed. As they flew, Yue told them of how the Moon Spirit had saved her life. She explained that she had been very sick when she was born, so her parents had taken her to the Spirit Oasis and laid her in the water, begging the Moon Spirit to heal her. Then her dark hair had turned white and she had begun to cry; the Moon Spirit had granted her parents' wish.

"That's amazing," Katara said, once Yue was finished.

Yue nodded her head. "I just hope we can get to the oasis in time to save the Moon Spirit."

"We will," Aang said grimly.

It was his duty to maintain balance in the world. He was not about to let the Fire Nation destroy that.

"Hey, I think I see it!" Sokka exclaimed, and then he paled. "Oh no."

"What?" Katara asked, peering over the edge of the saddle. "What is it?"

Aang followed the direction of Sokka's gaze only to see a familiar firebender with large side-whiskers standing in front of the sacred pool. His eyes narrowed. "It's Admiral Zhao."

oOo

The moon was red. Zuko blinked and tried to make sense of what he was seeing, but all he could think was that his head was throbbing and that he hurt all over, especially in his chest. Vaguely, he was aware of a group of people talking not far from him. Someone was saying something about destroying the moon. The voice sounded familiar. Too familiar.

Zhao, his mind supplied.

Yes, it was Zhao who was talking. And trying to destroy the Moon Spirit. Idiot. Then someone else started speaking—someone a lot younger and who seemed to be trying to persuade Zhao to do otherwise. That had to be the Avatar; only he would blabber on about balance and chaos.

"He is right, Zhao."

Zuko froze. Now that was a voice he knew, but what was his uncle doing here?

"General Iroh," Zhao greeted in his usual arrogant drawl. "Why am I not surprised to discover your treachery?"

Zuko's heart quickened as he listened to the exchange, especially when his uncle started making threats. This was not going to end well. Zhao would not back down; he knew that, and he was quite certain that his uncle did as well.

Definitely awake now, Zuko glanced to his left and saw the girl with white hair sitting with her back to him. Good. She was too busy watching the others to pay attention to what he was doing. As silently as possible, he brought himself up into a sitting position and then took a small breath. There was the usual stab of pain in his chest, but he ignored that and instead focussed on the heat he could feel flickering inside him. Once he was certain that he had the intensity right, he exhaled and watched as tiny plumes of fire licked through the ropes keeping his arms pinned to his sides. Bit by bit the rope fragmented until it finally unravelled altogether and dropped free. Zuko flexed his arms, getting the blood flowing again.

That was when the moon disappeared.

Iroh didn't hesitate. One moment everyone was staring up at the empty black sky, and then Zuko saw his uncle perform some of the most powerful bending he had seen in a while: a series of quick fire jabs that had all four firebenders down in seconds. Then Zuko noticed Zhao trying to flee and his eyes narrowed.

Oh, no you don't! Zuko thought, clenching his hands into fists.

He had not been able to capture the Avatar, but he would at least get his revenge on Zhao. That bastard would pay for hiring those pirates to kill him.

oOo

Zuko stared at the black surface of the water, searching for any hint of life. There was no sign of Zhao or the creature that had snatched the defeated admiral up into its grasp and dragged him under. "No," Zuko murmured, dropping his hand back to his side.

He had never liked Zhao, but no one should have to die like that. Not by some—some thing. As Zuko gazed out into the distance, he realised it wasn't just Zhao who had fallen victim to the monstrous spirit. The ocean had become a graveyard of sinking ships and bodies, and every single one was Fire Nation. The entire navy had been wiped out in a single blow.

Feeling suddenly sick, Zuko collapsed to his knees and tried to resist the urge to vomit. All those men and women. All his old crew. Lieutenant Jee, Tomoki, Kan—damn it, even the cook—they were all dead. All of them. Gone, just like that. Some of them had been with him from the beginning of his banishment and he'd never even said goodbye to them when they'd left. He'd just got angry and sulked in his room.

Something hot rolled down his cheek. He swallowed against the lump in his throat and buried his face in his knees. In that moment he was just so bitter and angry, so furious with himself and with the Avatar, who he knew had somehow played a part in bringing about this destruction. Right then, Zuko wanted nothing more than to go back to the Spirit Oasis and hit the stupid kid over and over again if only to make him see just how utterly wrong this whole situation was.

But Zuko was also exhausted. The adrenaline had worn off and now there was nothing to disguise the pain he could feel pressing down on every inch of his body. He had pushed himself too hard, ignored his injuries for too long, and now it was all accumulating in one overwhelming onslaught of weariness and agony. That was why he did not notice when the two Water Tribe warriors crept up from behind him. Unfortunately, he did notice when he got pulled into a choke hold and struck to the head, but by then it was too late.

Chapter Text

The aftermath of battle was never pleasant even when victory has been won, so it was a sombre group who made their way to the meeting hall. Aang tried not to look at the ocean where he knew twisted bits of metal and—he swallowed—other things still floated among the black waters. He tried not to look at the moon, which he had learnt had only been restored because Princess Yue had sacrificed her life. He tried not to look at Sokka, who was silent and grim-faced and still had faint traces of tears streaking his cheeks. Aang tried not to look at any of it, focussing only on moving his feet one step at a time. Trying not to remember.

Katara gripped his shoulder to pull him to a halt. Aang looked up in a daze and realised that they were already outside the meeting hall. The guard standing on watch lowered his spear, gesturing for them to enter through the doors.

"Chief Arnook has been waiting for you," the guard said, then cast a wary look at Aang before averting his gaze.

Something clenched in Aang's gut, twisting his stomach into knots. Many of the Water Tribe warriors had been looking at him in that way since the ceasefire: a strange mixture of awe and fear. Aang thought he could guess why. They'd all seen how he had merged with the Ocean Spirit and taken down the Fire Nation navy. It would have been a frightening sight to behold, though at the time Aang hadn't really been conscious of what he was doing. All he had known was a blinding white rage, the same that always dulled his awareness when he entered the Avatar State. This time it had been worse because he'd been fused with the spirit of the ocean as well. Emotions that should have been his alone had been intermingled with a water-tinted hate. Limbs that should have answered only to him had been guided by another's hand. When the moon had finally gleamed up in the sky again and the white light had died in his eyes, Aang had found himself surrounded by a ring of destruction.

It wasn't me, he told himself for what seemed like the hundredth time. It was the Ocean Spirit.

Except he still felt guilty. Airbenders were supposed to be peaceful; they were supposed to live in harmony with the world and with the people around them. Even if he was the Avatar, he did not want to have to resort to violence.

Momo swooped down from the sky and landed on his head, chittering something that might have been words of comfort. In reality, it was probably just a request for moon peaches. Aang reached up to scratch the lemur behind the ears, but his heart still felt terribly heavy. This was not the victory he had been hoping for. Everything had gone so wrong. He didn't even know what had happened to Zuko, though the old man—Zuko's uncle, Aang reminded himself—had left the oasis to look for the prince. Maybe they had both got away.

Katara tightened her grip on his shoulder. "Aang."

Shaken from his thoughts, he glanced up to meet her eyes.

"Come on," she said softly. "We should go inside."

"Right."

Letting out a deep breath, he walked through the doors and entered the hall where the leaders of the Northern Water Tribe had gathered. Chief Arnook sat at the front on a frozen dais. Beside him sat the warrior leader, Iluq: a broad-shouldered man with black hair and icy blue eyes. Master Pakku should have flanked the chief on the right, but the old waterbender was nowhere to be seen. The rest of the men were seated facing the platform in a half circle in two groups, allowing a space in the middle for people to take the floor and speak if they so wished. Judging by the way the group were bickering among each other, the meeting had already started and it was not going well.

Chief Arnook spotted the latecomers. "Ah. You're here."

The conversation stopped as the Water Tribe council turned as one to look at the quartet. Momo huddled closer to Aang's neck, wrapping around him like a scarf. It seemed the lemur did not like being under such scrutiny. Aang had to admit that he didn't either, though he had come to accept it as a matter of course during his travels.

"Sorry we're late," Aang apologised, crossing to join the group on the left.

Chief Arnook shook his head. "I understand that you and your friends must be tired."

The unspoken words lingered between them: because Aang had summoned an Ocean Spirit and defeated the Fire Nation navy; because Yue was gone, and everyone knew that it was their failure to protect the Moon Spirit which had caused that. It was a wonder that Chief Arnook hadn't sent them packing for allowing the princess to die, but Chief Arnook had understood. Aang had tried his best, just like Sokka and Katara had tried their best. Sometimes, though, things just didn't work out the way you wanted. It was a lesson with which Aang was still trying to come to terms.

"Chief Arnook," Iluq said, steering the conversation back to the matter at hand. "We still need to decide what we are going to do with the war prisoners."

The chief sighed. "We will just have to—"

Suddenly, the doors to the meeting hall were thrust open and two Water Tribe warriors entered, one dragging an unmoving figure behind him. Arnook broke off and frowned at this unlooked-for interruption. Aang tried to peer around a bulky man to get a better look at the person being dragged. Those white clothes looked familiar.

"What is the meaning of this?" Chief Arnook demanded.

The warrior on the right stepped forward, then dumped his inert burden in front of the chief. "We found this boy near the temple. Had to knock him out with sleeping weed ‘cause the little pest wouldn’t stay down. You can see he's definitely Fire Nation, though he's not wearing the right armour so—"

Aang gasped. He had finally managed to get a clear view and what he saw made his heart quicken in both fear and relief. There was no mistaking that scar, and even under all the bruises and cuts that mottled the boy's face, Aang would never forget those angular features.

"Zuko!" he exclaimed.

He would have rushed forward, but the chief held up a warning hand. Chastised, Aang swallowed and watched the small group in front of the dais, his heart thumping with anxiety. Zuko was here. Zuko was here, but the prince didn't look well at all and—and why was everyone staring at him like that?

Chief Arnook took a few steps forward, bending down to examine Zuko's face. "So this must be Prince Zuko, the Fire Lord's son and heir."

There was a chorus of cries from the other men in the room, some surprised while others just sounded angry. Aang felt Sokka tense beside him.

"This isn't going to be good," Sokka murmured.

Aang's brow furrowed. He was about to ask what Sokka had meant, but just then the warrior leader, Iluq, stepped down from the dais and grabbed Zuko by the hair, raising his head to get a better look at the scarred visage. Aang didn't know why, but the expression on Iluq's face made him go cold. It was the look of someone who had just found a great treasure.

"Well," Iluq said, releasing his grip on Zuko's hair and letting him drop back to the ground with a thud, "if this is the prince of the Fire Nation, we ought to hear what he has to say." He turned to the chief. "Chief Arnook, if I may?"

Arnook nodded wearily, then sat back down on the dais.

Iluq glanced at the first warrior who had spoken. "Wake him up!"

The warrior smiled. "With pleasure."

Aang flinched at the sound of a boot making contact with bone; he almost felt the sickening thwack reverberate through his own body. Zuko lurched up on reflex, groaning as he clutched a hand to his side where he had just been kicked. He looked a bit disoriented for a moment before he seemed to realise where he was and who was surrounding him. Gold eyes narrowed. In a flash, he lashed out in a low, spinning sweep kick that encircled his body with flames and sent the three warriors standing near him sprawling. Just as he came full circle, Zuko pushed himself back to his feet and made a run for the door.

"Stop him!" Iluq cried from where he had fallen.

Zuko ducked under the arms of the man who reached out to grab him and continued to run, increasing his speed with every step. He might have managed to escape too, but then two water whips latched around his ankles, bringing him face-first to the ground. Immediately, the warriors were upon him and pinning him to the floor by his arms and legs while he growled and thrashed against their hold. Aang watched in frozen horror, not sure what he should do. Zuko was the Fire Nation prince and an enemy of the Northern Water Tribe; Aang knew he shouldn't, couldn't, interfere. But Zuko was also the Blue Spirit and the boy who had saved his life. It was too confusing.

Iluq stopped in front of Zuko, a nasty smile curving his mouth. "Well, well," he observed, "it seems we've caught ourselves quite the wild one."

Zuko responded by breathing out a roar of flames. Iluq stumbled back and had to pat at his beard to put out the sparks. His eyes narrowed. Like the crack of a whip, he struck out with a back-handed blow, making Zuko's head snap back from the impact. Aang's hand twitched on his staff.

"You want to try that trick again, little prince?" Iluq hissed, bringing out his whale's tooth scimitar and holding it to Zuko's throat.

Zuko spat out a glob of blood. It was obvious that he was not intimidated.

Iluq's mouth twisted and he grasped Zuko by the jaw, forcing his head up to expose the vulnerable curve of his throat. Sharpened ivory pressed against pale skin, just drawing a line of red. Aang's breath hitched at the sight. He took an involuntary step forward, fingers tightening around his staff.

"That's enough, Iluq!"

Aang paused and turned to see Chief Arnook frowning at the warrior leader. The change in that careworn face was startling. Before, the chief had just looked weary and resigned, lost in his own grief. Now those light-blue eyes were as hard as steel and his expression was just as unforgiving. This was the face of a man who commanded respect, and it had the desired effect.

Iluq removed the scimitar from Zuko's throat and turned to face the chief. "Forgive me, Chief Arnook. I was merely—"

"You were merely letting your temper get the better of you," Arnook interrupted, and then shifted his gaze to Zuko. "As for you, Prince Zuko, refrain from trying to burn my warriors. I do not condone the maiming of children, but I will also not allow the people of my tribe to be hurt. For your own safety, you had best cooperate."

Zuko just glared, his breathing heavy as blood continued to trickle down his neck.

"Now then," the chief continued, "why don't you start by telling us why you are here? It's clear from your clothes that you were not part of the main invasion force, and we already know who was to blame for the death of the Moon Spirit." His eyes hardened. "So, then, what were you doing near the temple?"

Zuko lowered his gaze to the ground and said nothing.

"You will answer the chief!" the warrior clutching Zuko's left arm ordered, giving him a rough shake.

Zuko still said nothing. It seemed that he had decided to find his new method of resistance in silence. Aang shifted on his feet, wondering if he should say anything. Then the matter was taken out of his hands as Sokka stepped forward.

"Uh, we can probably answer that," Sokka said, shooting a glance at the prince. "See, Zuko has been trying to capture Aang since we first came across him at the South Pole. He's been chasing us everywhere, and I mean everywhere." A shrug. "It was kind of inevitable that he would follow us here."

"Is this true, Avatar?" Chief Arnook asked.

Aang nodded. "But Zuko was only ever going after me," he added in a rush. "I don't think he was trying to, you know, attack the Water Tribe or the Moon Spirit like the others. And he didn't even hurt me, so maybe we should just—"

Sokka jabbed him in the ribs. Aang broke off abruptly, but only to stare at his friend.

"What?" he demanded.

"Now is not the time to play peaceful airbender, Aang," Sokka whispered from out of the corner of his mouth. "Best just to keep your mouth shut."

"But—"

Sokka shook his head and gestured to Chief Arnook, who was now staring back at Zuko with an unreadable expression on his face.

"So you have been trying to capture the Avatar," the chief observed, rubbing a hand against his beard. "And what about the rest of your country? Thanks to the Avatar, the Fire Nation navy was completely obliterated. So, tell me, can we expect any more attacks like this?"

Zuko's jaw tightened, but he still remained silent.

Iluq made an exasperated sound. "We're wasting our time trying to get answers out of this brat! He's never going to talk!"

"I say we kill him and be done with it," another warrior muttered. "One less Fire Nation scum to worry about."

"We are not going to kill him, Qaniit," Chief Arnook said tiredly. "He is not just some 'Fire Nation scum', as you put it. He is the Crown Prince."

Iluq stepped forward, placing himself in front of the warriors who were still holding Zuko in place. "If I may, Chief Arnook, I suggest that we keep the boy and use him as a bargaining tool. However useless he might be as a source of information, the Fire Lord will have no choice but to listen to our demands once he hears that we have his son as our prisoner."

That did get a sound out of Zuko, though it was only a humourless laugh.

"Something amusing, little prince?" Iluq growled.

Zuko met his gaze steadily. "Just that you're an idiot."

"Why you little—"

"Iluq!"

The warrior leader froze.

Chief Arnook frowned at Zuko. "You seem to believe this plan will not work, Prince Zuko. You think the Fire Lord would not be willing to negotiate peace terms for the safety of his son?"

Zuko averted his face and said nothing.

"Answer the question, brat!" Iluq snarled.

Before anyone could stop him, he lashed out and kicked Zuko hard in the ribs. No one had been prepared for the almost inhuman cry of pain that escaped Zuko's throat. Nor did they expect the teen to start coughing and gasping for air like a drowning man, his body convulsing as he instinctively tried to curl up on himself. The warriors restraining Zuko dropped him in surprise, but he, for once, made no attempt to run. Instead, he just collapsed onto his hands and knees, still making that horrible, hacking cough.

Aang's eyes widened. He turned on Iluq, hot rage bubbling under his skin. "What did you do to him?" he screamed, making Momo take off into the air with a screech.

Iluq looked confused. "I—"

Aang brought up his staff and took a threatening step forward. Katara gripped him by the shoulders, holding him back.

"Don't," she said in a low voice. "This isn't the way."

Aang wrenched himself free and ran—not towards Iluq, but towards Zuko's limp figure. He dropped to his knees and rolled Zuko onto his back, staring anxiously down at the scarred face. Zuko was still conscious, but there was a glazed look in his golden eyes as if he was barely aware of the world around him. His skin had also developed a nasty, greyish quality. When Aang pressed his hand against the prince's cheek, trying to get him to focus, he was surprised at how cold and clammy it felt.

"Zuko," Aang murmured, lightly tapping his face. "Zuko, what's wrong? Are you hurt? Tell me!"

Zuko just closed his eyes, breathing in and out in weak, rattling breaths that just sounded so painful and wrong. Aang's bottom lip trembled. He curled his fingers into Zuko's tunic, feeling the far too rapid beat of Zuko's heart pulse against his palm. No. No, no, no, no! This wasn't how it was supposed to be. Zuko hadn't even done anything to the Northern Water Tribe. He didn't deserve this. He didn't—

Aang froze as a cold feeling encircled his heart, squeezing unpleasantly. He trembled and stared down into that scarred, battered face, even as nausea swept through his body, twisting his stomach into knots and making him want to retch. There was something reaching inside of him, something reaching too deep, too close, trying to snatch away those threads of precious warmth embracing his soul.

"No!" Aang choked out, knowing what that awful feeling meant.

His spirit had sensed that his bond with Zuko was about to be cut, which could only mean one thing. Zuko was dying. He was dying and there was nothing Aang could do about it.

Aang swung around to face the group of stunned councilmen and warriors. "Why are you all just standing there?" he shouted, his vision blurring as something hot prickled at the corner of his eyes. "We have to do something! We have to heal him!"

"Heal him?" Qaniit exclaimed. "Why should we heal him?"

Aang ignored this outburst and focussed on the only female in the room, the only person who might be able to help. "Katara, please," he begged. "Please, help him. He's dying!"

Their eyes met and for a moment the two just stared at each other: Aang pleading while Katara just looked torn. Finally, she nodded and rushed over to join him on the floor, already summoning the liquid from her waterskin. Aang watched as she ran glowing palms over Zuko's face, feeling down his chi meridians to his chest. She paused.

"Sokka, I need your dagger," she said in a voice of forced calm.

Her brother was immediately beside her with the jawbone knife, for once not choosing to argue. "What do you need me to do?" he asked.

"Cut his tunic open." She lifted her water-encased hands away. "I think there might be something wrong with his ribs, but I can't manipulate his chi properly to heal him unless I have direct contact with his skin."

"Right!"

Sokka set about slicing through the thick layers of fabric covering Zuko's chest while Aang watched on anxiously.

Qaniit let out a disgusted snarl and stalked over to the chief. "Chief Arnook, are you really going to stand for this?" he demanded. "This boy is our enemy! His people are the reason your daughter is dead! The reason our brothers and sons are dead!"

There were some murmurs of agreement from the other men, but Chief Arnook held up his hand for silence. He looked down at the group gathered around Zuko, his expression unreadable. Aang tightened his fingers around his staff, getting ready to defend in case the chief tried to stop the healing. He didn't care if it wasn't his place to interfere; he was not about to let Zuko die.

"Do what you must, Katara," Chief Arnook said in a weary voice. "Enemy or not, I believe enough children have died today."

Aang let out a sigh of relief. Katara simply got her hands ready to heal as Sokka peeled away the shredded layers of white. All three gasped at the sight that met their eyes. Instead of smooth, pale skin, the Zuko's chest was a canvas of swollen purples and blacks. Squares of cloth had been taped onto his stomach and upper torso, some of which were stained a rusty red. Then there were the gashes and cuts that had not been covered, forming jagged lines of barely healed flesh. It was his ribs that truly repulsed, though. Some of the left side of his ribcage almost seemed to have sunk inward. All of the skin around his ribs was bruised an ugly purplish-black.

"That's sick," Sokka said in a shaky voice.

Aang turned to the girl beside him. "Can you heal him?"

"I—I'll try."

Inhaling deeply, Katara placed her palms against Zuko's chest. Once again, her hands began to glow and they could see some of the bruising fading under her touch, but then she pulled back as if burned.

"What is it?" Aang exclaimed. "Is something wrong?"

A crease formed on her brow. "N-no, it's nothing. I just wasn't expecting his chi to feel so ... alive. It's like he's on fire, but it's more than that as well." She shook her head as if to clear her thoughts. "Hang on, let me try again."

Still frowning, she placed her glowing hands back on his chest and slowly began to trace a circular path along his ribs. More of the bruises and cuts faded, but Aang couldn't help but notice the way her jaw clenched. Something was wrong. The more Katara tried to heal Zuko, the less certain she appeared in her movements. Her hands trembled and an odd sparkle gleamed in her eyes. Finally, she dropped her hands back to her sides and bowed her head, letting the water that had encased her palms splash harmlessly to the ground.

"I can't do it," she whispered. "I can't heal him."

Aang's heart clenched. "What do you mean you can't heal him? Katara, you have to!"

"I can't!" The words were ripped from her, and she looked at him now with tears rolling down her cheeks. "It's too much. I thought I could heal him, but I'm just—I'm just not good enough." Her hands curled into fists. "I don't know how."

Aang felt like the world was crumbling from under his feet. This could not be happening.

Chief Arnook glanced towards the warrior closest to the door. "Pukiq, get Yugoda. And hurry!"

Pukiq nodded and dashed out of the meeting hall. The next few minutes were of pure agony for Aang, but then Pukiq was bursting back through the doors and with him came the elderly woman whom Aang recognised as the Master Healer of the tribe. Yugoda took one look at Zuko and then was at his side, placing glowing palms against his chest just as Katara had done only moments before. Oddly, Yugoda also hesitated at the initial contact with Zuko's chi, but then she let the water flow from her hands, sinking into bruised flesh. With a sigh, she gathered the liquid back up into her waterskin.

"This is going to take a while," Yugoda said grimly. "You were right to call me."

"What's wrong with him?" Aang asked in a small voice.

"He's broken three of his ribs and his left lung has been punctured. I've managed to get the air out of the pleural space for now, but sealing everything up properly and getting his ribs back into place will take a long time." She shook her head. "This boy is very lucky to be alive. He's still showing signs of having gone into circulatory shock, but Katara's healing session must have stopped the organs from failing completely." Yugoda smiled at her. "You did well, child."

Katara just shook her head. "I couldn't do anything. I couldn't heal him at all."

"You did enough. That is what matters."

Aang looked at Yugoda hopefully. "So he'll live?"

"He will live," she confirmed, then glanced towards the chief. "Of course, it would help if I could get a little privacy. I can't move him to the healing huts right now—not like this. I'm going to need to heal him here, and I can't do that with all of you grumbling men hovering around."

Said grumbling men stopped their muttering and stared at the chief with indignant expressions, as if asking how Arnook could let a woman boss them around and disrespect them like that. The chief just sighed.

"You heard Yugoda. Everybody out."

Qaniit's eyes narrowed. "But—"

"Enough, Qaniit. The boy is still a prince and so he shall be treated accordingly. He is of no use to us dead." Arnook waved his hand in a dismissive gesture. "This meeting is over. Return to your homes."

Iluq, who had been very still and silent from the moment Zuko had collapsed, now stepped forward. "Chief Arnook, if it pleases you, I will have Pikuq and Arrluk stand guard just in case Prince Zuko should wake again and try to attack."

"Very well," Chief Arnook said. "The rest of you, leave."

"I'm staying," Aang said firmly.

"Me too," Katara said, and then cast an anxious glance at Yugoda. "If that's okay with you, of course."

Yugoda smiled. "Of course, Katara. In fact, I was hoping you would be able to assist me. This is a delicate process and two pairs of hands will be better than one."

Katara swallowed. "I'll try."

"You'll be fine," Yugoda said reassuringly.

That seemed to decide the matter. In the end, it was just the three of them, plus Momo, left in the meeting hall, along with the two warriors who had been assigned to keep watch. Sokka could have stayed but said he would check on Appa; the big guy was bound to be feeling lonely. Even Chief Arnook had left, muttering something about finding Master Pakku and unexpected complications.

Aang had to admit that it was a relief to see the Northern Water Tribe warriors go. He had not liked the way they had looked at Zuko. None of them seemed to recognise Zuko as a human being, except maybe Chief Arnook. Everyone else had just seen an enemy or a tool to be used against the Fire Nation. It was ... unsettling.

Pushing aside such thoughts, Aang focussed his attention back on the two waterbenders, who were now carefully feeling around Zuko's upper body with glowing palms. Momo clambered onto Aang's lap and curled up into a furry ball, watching this process through round green eyes. Grateful for the company, Aang stroked his fingers down Momo's back and settled in for a long night of anxious waiting. The awful feeling that had alerted him to Zuko's condition had mostly faded, but the faint throbbing in his shoulder where the arrow had pierced told him that there was still some danger.

Come on, Zuko, Aang thought. You've never given up before. You can't give up now.

oOo

There were two men standing by the raft. Both had their cloaks pulled up over their faces, but as the moon touched down on the ice, illuminating the scene, it was revealed that one man was wearing a red robe while the other had shrouded himself in blue.

"Iroh, you have to leave," the man in the blue cloak urged in a low voice. "I will not be able to protect you if you are caught. You know this."

The old general shook his head. "I won't leave without my nephew."

"I'm sorry, but you and I both know that if your nephew has not returned, he has either been captured or killed."

Iroh closed his eyes in pain. "That is why I can't leave. I have already lost one son. I do not wish to lose another."

"And what if you are found and imprisoned? How will you help your nephew then? How will you help anyone?"

"A river continues to flow even if the fish that swims in its waters seeks a home elsewhere. There are others to take my place."

"You're wrong. Piandao and Jeong Jeong might be from the Fire Nation, but neither of them have your unique status as a member of the royal family, nor do they have your ability to gather men from all sectors of life to follow you." The man in the blue cloak paused, as if what he was about to say next was especially difficult for him to speak. "We need you, Iroh. The Order of the White Lotus needs you."

Iroh sighed heavily. "You do realise what you are asking of me?"

"Yes. Will you do it?"

Iroh turned to face the raft. "I have watched over my nephew for almost three years. It is ... painful to think of abandoning him now. Too painful."

The man in the blue cloak was silent for a moment. "If Prince Zuko is dead, staying here would be an unnecessary risk on your part." Another pause. "If he is alive, however, I will personally see to it that he gets out of the city safely, even if he has been captured." His voice suddenly became very dry. "Is that enough for you, Iroh?"

Iroh couldn't repress his chuckle. "You always did drive a hard bargain, Pakku."

Master Pakku pulled back his hood, smiling wryly. "Perhaps you are just not as wise as you like to think yourself, Grand Lotus."

This got a much louder laugh. "Possibly, my friend. Possibly."

"Ah, before I forget." Pakku reached into his robe and held out a small counter.

"The white lotus tile," Iroh observed, accepting the offering.

"I hear you lost yours," Pakku said with a hint of a smile. "I figured you might need one."

"You're right," Iroh agreed solemnly.

It was time to begin the call, even if every feeling in his heart did resist the idea of leaving without Zuko.

I'm sorry, Nephew. I pray that you are alive. I pray that we will meet again.

Until then, they would have to go their separate paths.

Chapter Text

He was surrounded by flames. The heat cradled him, sheltered him. It soothed his pain and eased the suffocating darkness that threatened to plunge him into oblivion, but even then his body still made its agony known. A sharp stab to his chest. Not enough air, then too much air. Unable to breathe. Black dizziness sucking him further into the abyss.

Heartbeat slowing. Then cold. So cold.

No!

He plunged himself deeper into the flames, wrapping himself up in a blazing cocoon so that the icy fingers stealing around his heart would not be able to survive. It still wasn't enough. The cold was closing in on him, fusing with the darkness so that he was sure he would be swallowed up in it completely. Desperate now, he saw a spark of pale gold burning at the centre of the inferno and he reached out for it on instinct, hugging the light to his chest so that he could feel the gentle flutters of its energy beating against him like a tiny heartbeat. He clung to it so tightly that he lived and breathed the golden fire, letting it merge with his body, his chi, until there was no separating the boy from the flames. He was warmth and light. He was alive. Nothing could hurt him here.

Dimly, he became aware of something entering the threads of energy keeping his cocoon locked in place. A whisper of water, of the ocean. He resisted its touch at first, panicking at the thought of fire-quenching droplets and dying embers, but the watery presence simply shaped itself to his flames, embracing rather than extinguishing. He realised then that the water was not cold; it was warm, and it was trying to help him escape from the abyss as well. Cautiously, he reached out to the ocean-tinted caress, letting it entwine more fully with his fire—with him. He felt the moment when they fused: a union of heat and liquid, working together like the sun and rain to nourish his withering roots and restore balance.

"That's it," a voice murmured from somewhere above him. "Don't fight it."

The words barely penetrated his shell of flames. He was still clinging to the golden spark, buried deep within his cocoon; however, there was another part of him rushing in a fusion of elements through winding paths, unravelling twisted knots of energy and sealing up the gaping wounds that had sought to drag him into the abyss. Somewhere, far outside of his shell, a boy's chest rose and fell.

"Yes," the voice encouraged. "That's it. Breathe. Let the oxygen flow through you."

"Come on, Zuko!"

Zuko.

The name teased at his consciousness, whispering of a blue mask and a boy with a scar. Without realising it, he found himself letting go of the golden spark. The name was calling him. Calling him upwards, back through the shell of flames. He had to follow, had to seize hold of that name. Fire slipped from his grasp, letting him break free of his cocoon and separating him from the watery presence still swirling around those winding paths. He was so close now. He could almost see the truth taking shape in his mind, and then—

Suddenly, he was aware of unmoving limbs and a dull stabbing in his chest. He felt fingers of darkness holding his eyelids shut and the invasive touch of hands moving along his skin. Hands he could not see. Hands he could not stop. A scream of panic tore through him, but even that was silenced by the invisible palm keeping his mouth clamped shut. He was blind. Helpless.

No!

He couldn't bear it. Not again. Not like this.

Like a frightened child he lashed out at the hands, at anything, but his limbs wouldn't obey him. His chest rose and fell—too quickly this time. He was lost with the flames and the darkness, but the fire wasn't comforting anymore. It was too close, too hot. It was burning. He could feel it turning his face bloody and raw, feel the vulnerable flesh melting, feel the darkness closing in as his vision was obscured by a wave of orange. And then hands. Hands hurting.

"Don't worry, Zuzu. I just want to see how your fire works."

Zuko gasped and sat up with a rush, his eyes wild as heat exploded from him in a shield of flames, trying to push back every invasive hand, every unwelcome touch. Alarmed cries echoed in his ears, but he was already scrambling to his knees, already trying to run.

"Stop him!"

More hands grabbed him by the shoulders. More hands pulled him back towards the bed.

"No!" he yelled, shoving and twisting. "I won't let you! I won't!"

"Zuko, please! We're just trying to help!"

That voice. That was the Avatar's voice, but the sound of it just enraged Zuko even further. He struggled more fiercely, determined to escape. Determined to attack.

"Damn, this kid's strong," one of the men grunted, just narrowly avoiding being elbowed in the stomach.

Zuko growled and tried to force the man to release his grip with another elbow to the gut; however, the burst of energy he'd felt upon waking was quickly fading. His body was remembering that it was in pain and that he had barely rested for several days now. Legs that had hummed with strength began to wobble. Arms that had punched and thrashed with frantic speed grew sluggish. Suddenly, he was finding it very difficult to stay upright, let alone fight.

An elderly woman appeared before his star-blurred gaze. "Enough of this!" she said sharply. "Young man, you are hurt and you need to rest. Now stop trying to undo all of our hard work and lie down!"

"No!" Zuko snarled, and then he let out another roar as he tried and failed to twist free of the warriors' hold. "Let me go!"

"And where do you plan to go if they did?" she responded tartly. "You wouldn't make it very far dressed like that."

Distracted, he glanced down at his body and a wave of heat stained his cheeks. He had thought it had felt a little breezy. "Where are my clothes?" he demanded in a hoarse voice.

"You were wounded. Katara and I had to get to your injuries somehow. Besides, stripping a warrior of his clothes is the best way to ensure that he will stay in bed, and I had a feeling you would be a stubborn one." She smiled in understanding as his blush deepened. "Don't worry, Katara chose to leave while I removed your undergarments, though you really have no reason to feel ashamed. Compared to some of the men I've seen, you're doing quite well for yourself."

Zuko closed his eyes in pained mortification. It was just his luck to run into the female version of his uncle. All she needed to do now was wink and his humiliation would be complete.

"Now then," she continued, pointing a finger at his face, "are you going to stop trying to run so I can finish healing you? Or am I going to have to get Pukiq and Arrluk to drag you back to that bed and tie you down?"

The two warriors chuckled. Zuko leaned his head away from the tip of that gnarled finger, looking a bit startled. No one aside from his mother or Shizue, his pseudo-nanny, had ever dared to speak to him in that way. It was disconcerting, but it was also incredibly frustrating. Who did this woman think she was?

"Come on, Zuko," Aang said. "Yugoda really is only trying to help, and you'll feel much better once you're healed."

Zuko whipped his head around at the sound of that voice, his eyes narrowing. "You!"

Aang's smile faltered. "Uh, yes?" he said uncertainly. "I have been here the whole time, you know."

A strangled noise escaped Zuko. How dare that little brat just stand there looking all innocent and confused, as if he didn't know what he had done! As if he hadn't summoned the Ocean Spirit and snatched away the lives of hundreds of men and women!

Suddenly, Zuko was renewing his struggles to break free of the warriors' hold, not even caring that he was cold, naked and exhausted. He was going to kill that arrow-headed idiot! He was going to—

A glowing palm touched Zuko on the forehead. He flinched at the contact. It was almost as if a blanket was pressing down on his mind, making his thoughts sluggish and his limbs weak. Before he could think to react, his vision blurred and he slumped against the two warriors, hanging limply between them as his eyes slid shut. Damn it, not again.

oOo

Yugoda calmly removed her hand.

"What did you do?" Aang asked.

"I put him in a healing sleep," she explained, gesturing for Pukiq and Arrluk to place the prince back on the bed. "He was getting too worked up."

Aang chewed on his bottom lip. "He seemed really upset."

"His navy has been defeated and he's found himself a captive of his enemies." She raised an eyebrow. "Wouldn't you be upset?"

"But we're not even trying to hurt him!"

"Do you think he understands that?"

Aang sighed. "I guess not."

Yugoda picked up the furs that Zuko had knocked aside in his haste and draped them back over his body. She was just checking his pulse when Katara dashed into the hut.

"What happened?" Katara asked, glancing from one face to the other. "I heard yelling."

"Zuko woke up," Aang answered, sitting back down on the ground and resting his chin on his knees.

"Oh." Katara looked thoughtfully at Zuko. "That would make sense since the sun is almost at its peak."

"What do you mean?" Yugoda asked, frowning.

Katara shrugged. "Just something Zuko said. I think firebenders gather their energy from the sun, like how waterbenders are more powerful when the moon is up."

"That would make sense," Yugoda agreed, and then sighed. "It is a shame our people have been at war for so long. I have realised while healing this boy that we do not know as much about firebenders as we think we do. It is fortunate that his chi is so willing to cooperate with our bending."

Katara took an impulsive step forward. "Then you felt it too?"

"Felt what?" Aang asked, scrunching his face.

"I have never felt an energy like this young man's," Yugoda said simply. "I do not understand it, but I do know that by being in contact with his chi, Katara and I were somehow able to heal his body much faster than I thought we would. It is a very strange thing indeed, but certainly providential for him."

"It's as if his energy is alive," Katara murmured. "You feel so much warmth, but it's almost as if his chi knows what you're trying to do, like it wants to help you. It's a little unnerving, actually."

Aang said nothing. He knew for a fact that Zuko could heal and that they were probably right in thinking his chi had been aiding them. Unfortunately, that was not Aang's secret to tell. He had not forgotten how angry Zuko had got upon being asked how it was that he could heal. Something in Aang sensed that it was probably not a good idea to say anything about that now, especially not with Pukiq and Arrluk listening. The warriors might be nicer than Iluq and Qaniit, but they were still Zuko's enemies. If the world thought that fire healers didn't exist, there was probably a good reason for that. Aang wasn't about to betray Zuko's trust. Not intentionally, anyway.

"Do you think he will wake again?" Aang asked instead.

"The healing sleep should wear off in half an hour, but it's possible he may sleep for longer. Hopefully, our young friend will have calmed down by then." Her eyes fixed on Aang. "As for you, Avatar Aang, I think it's about time you get some rest yourself."

"But—"

"I can assure you that Prince Zuko is not going anywhere. Now off to bed with you. You're making me tired just looking at you with all that yawning you've been doing."

Aang gave a sheepish grin, even as he smothered another yawn. "I suppose a little sleep won't hurt."

"Good."

"What about you?" Katara asked, looking up at the older woman. "You haven't had a break since you first started healing last night."

"I know, and I plan on heading to my bed right now," Yugoda said bluntly. "I'm not stubborn enough not to know when my body has had enough."

Katara gestured to Zuko. "What should we do with him?"

A smile curved Yugoda's mouth. "I'm sure you can take over healing for me while I'm gone. His condition is stable enough now. Just make sure that he continues to breathe normally and try to work on getting his ribs back into place. Other than that, the best thing for him is just to sleep."

"And if he wakes up?"

"From what I hear, you're quite capable of handling your own against him." Yugoda winked. "I'm sure you'll have no problem should he try another escape attempt."

Katara blushed. "I was only trying to protect Aang."

"And so you did." Yugoda placed her hand on Katara's shoulder. "Just remember: out on the battlefield those warriors might like to think that they rule the show, but here in the healing huts we are the ones in charge."

A reluctant grin tugged at the corners of Katara's mouth. "I'll keep that in mind."

"Excellent!" Yugoda turned and spared a glance for the two warriors standing guard by the door. "Perhaps you should think about getting some rest yourselves. It's been a long night for all of us. I'm sure Iluq can find some warriors to replace you."

"If you think it is safe," Pukiq said cautiously.

"Oh, that boy won't be waking up any time soon," Yugoda responded, heading for the door and ushering Aang with her. "Either way, a half-asleep guard makes poor protection."

oOo

Pukiq and Arrluk had left to go find replacement guards. Both had looked relieved to have a chance to sleep. Katara could sympathise. The men had looked dead on their feet. It really had been a long night. She was just lucky that Yugoda had allowed her to rest once it had been decided that Zuko was stable enough to be moved to the healing huts. Even then, Katara had found herself seeing the glowing light of her bending when she closed her eyes. The only downside was that she now found herself alone with Zuko. The silence was unnerving. All Katara could hear was the crackling of the fire and his slightly laboured breathing.

"You brought this on yourself, you know," she muttered. "If you had just left Aang alone, you wouldn't have got injured. Then I wouldn't have had to heal you."

Zuko only breathed, still lost to the anaesthetic powers of the healing sleep. Katara's mouth twisted. She wouldn't admit it aloud, but she didn't like seeing him like this. He had always appeared to her as an unstoppable force: a monster who just kept coming and coming, always pursuing, always attacking. He was angry and hurtful and she had come to rely on that image—her image of the enemy. But this boy in front of her was breakable. This boy could bleed and bruise. She had felt his life in her hands, felt the sheer fragility of his heartbeat as she tried to manipulate his chi to keep the organ working. It made her feel so torn, because now those images weren't matching up. He wasn't just Zuko the monster anymore; he was also Zuko the boy.

Katara wondered if this was how Aang felt when he had said that they had to help him. Perhaps Aang alone had been the one to recognise that Zuko was human; that the prince, in fact, was not unstoppable, and that every time they had knocked him down, every time they had celebrated with glee at another close escape, they had also been adding to his bruises. They had been hurting him.

"I still hate you."

The words were a whisper, but she still meant every bit. She had healed Zuko because Aang had asked her to and because, deep in her heart, she didn't really want to watch someone die when she knew she could do something to stop it. But Zuko was still her enemy. He had tried to take Aang away from her, and she would never forget that. Being forced to recognise that he was human didn't change the poor decisions he had made. Nothing could change that.

Zuko inhaled a sharp, uneven breath.

Katara's brow creased. She gathered water to her hand and placed her palm against his chest, feeling the knots of energy that blocked his chi meridians and whispered of wrongness. Her knowledge of healing had not allowed her to sense that his ribs had been broken or that his lung had been punctured when she had first tried to mend his injuries—just that something was wrong. Now, thanks to Yugoda's gentle comments and corrections, she could almost see where the bones had cracked and come out of place. Thankfully, she and Yugoda had managed to seal up the hole in his lung before too many complications could arise, though it was true that Yugoda had done most of the work.

Katara sighed and dropped her hand from his chest. She might have held her own in a fight against Zuko in the Spirit Oasis, but he had shown her one thing: she was no healer.

"But I will be," she promised herself.

For the sake of learning to fight, she had dismissed her training with Yugoda and had studied combative waterbending with Master Pakku. Thinking back on her decision now, she realised it had been foolish to give up one for the other. The Blue Spirit had been both a fighter and a healer, and he was a male. There was no reason why she could not be both as well. Besides, Katara knew that even if the other waterbenders did think her weak for learning a women's art, she would feel the better for it. Realising that she could not heal Prince Zuko had been one of the most humbling and devastating moments of her life. She never wanted to feel so helpless again, because next time it might not be an enemy who needed her help. Next time it might be Aang or Sokka, and she could not bear the thought of not being able to save them because of her own pride and ignorance.

Katara closed her hand around the pendant at her throat, shutting her eyes as she felt the carvings dig into her palm. She would never let herself fail her family again.

oOo

Zuko was standing on a bridge. Dimly, he could hear the screams of battle echoing in his ears, but he only had eyes for one man. They had fought for so long and now he had finally got the bastard on his knees, now he was going to make Zhao pay for all the humiliation and pain. But then the black waters started moving below and a nightmarish shape took form, casting a shadow over the bridge as the creature grew and grew, glowing with the unearthly power of the Spirit World.

"No!" Zuko gasped, taking a step backwards.

The Ocean Spirit narrowed its eyes and reached down, snatching up the admiral in one swift strike. Zuko tried to help, tried to bring him back to safety, but then the face changed and it was no longer Zhao trapped in that suffocating fist; it was Iroh.

Zuko's heart clenched with soul-chilling horror. "Uncle!" he cried, reaching out frantically. "Uncle, take my hand!"

Iroh extended his arm and their fingers almost touched, but then the Ocean Spirit tightened its grip and the moment was gone. Man and spirit were already plunging into the black waters.

"Uncle!" Zuko screamed, leaning over the parapet and making a wild grab. "Uncle, no! Please, no! Uncle!"

Zuko's eyes snapped open. His heart pounded in a wild tattoo against his chest and cold sweat coated his entire body. He breathed deeply as he tried to calm his frenetic thoughts. It was a dream. Just a dream. Zhao had been the one who had got dragged into the ocean. Zhao had been the one to suffer the Ocean Spirit's revenge.

But his uncle.

A jolt of sick fear went through Zuko and then he was sitting up in the bed, looking around for any sight of the old man. His uncle. Where was his uncle? His gaze collided with a familiar girl with ocean-blue eyes. He reached out and grabbed her by the front of her robe, pulling her closer. "Where is my uncle?" he hissed, barely containing the fire that tingled in his fingertips.

Katara's eyes widened. "I—"

Before she could answer, Zuko's wrist was yanked back, forcing him to release his grip. He turned with a snarl to attack the newcomer, only to be slammed back against the bed, leaving him gasping for air as all of the breath was knocked out of him. Black dots swarmed before his eyes. Hands pressed down on his shoulders and legs, pinning him to the flat surface with ruthless determination.

"No!" Zuko growled, thrashing weakly against the guards' hold. "Let me go! I have to find my uncle! I have to—"

He broke off, coughing and taking in great gulps of air. Spirits, he felt so dizzy.

"Zuko, you need to calm down," Katara said in an exasperated voice. "You're just going to hurt yourself again if you keep fighting like this."

"What do you care?" He blinked past the black dots blurring his vision. "It's obvious the only reason you people healed me is because you want your little trophy so you can bargain with the Fire Lord!"

Katara recoiled as if she had been struck. "That's not true."

"Isn't it?" He met her gaze fiercely, even as the warriors continued to restrain him. "Then why am I here?"

She looked down at her hands, saying nothing.

Zuko let out a snort. "Thought as much."

One of the warriors—Zuko noticed that these two were different from the first men he had seen in the hut—smacked him on the side of his face. "That's enough out of you, boy!" the warrior said sternly. "You should be grateful that Chief Arnook chose to spare your life. If it was up to the rest of the tribe, you'd be rotting in the ocean along with the rest of your murdering kin."

Zuko flexed his aching jaw and a hint of smoke trailed from his nostrils. He was about to respond when the furs sheltering the doorway parted and Yugoda entered the room.

"What is going on in here?" she demanded, placing her hands on her hips.

"The prisoner tried to escape," the warrior who had struck Zuko stated.

"Is this true, young man?" Yugoda asked, giving him a disapproving frown. "And here I thought you would have learnt your lesson from the first time."

A hot flush spread over Zuko's face. He was suddenly very grateful for the heavy furs twisted around his waist and legs.

Yugoda shifted her attention to the two warriors. "Well, what are you waiting for? Release him."

"This boy is dangerous! We can't just—"

"He is my patient, Kesuk. Believe me when I tell you that he is not going anywhere." Yugoda threw a sly grin Zuko's way. "He knows exactly what will happen if he does."

Zuko gritted his teeth as his face burned. Horrible old woman.

Kesuk gave Zuko one last look of dislike before removing his hands from his shoulders. The other warrior followed suit by releasing the grip he'd had on Zuko's legs.

Yugoda smiled at both men. "There now," she said cheerfully, "that's much better. Now we can all get along."

Kesuk's hard gaze flickered back to her. "Perhaps you're forgetting who this boy is, Yugoda," he said in a reproachful voice. "Right now he might be your patient, but he is still our enemy."

Some of the warmth faded from Yugoda's eyes. "I am aware of that, Kesuk."

"It doesn't seem that way to me." His mouth twisted with scorn. "This is why a woman is only ever good for healing. Your hearts are too soft, too weak."

Katara opened her mouth to retort, but Yugoda placed a hand on her arm.

"If that is how you feel, Kesuk, then perhaps you should leave," Yugoda said. "Clearly, a healing hut is no place for such a strong, uncompromising warrior as yourself."

If Kesuk heard her sarcasm, he chose not to respond to it in kind. Instead, he gave her an ugly look and stormed out of the hut without a backwards glance. The other warrior stood there a little uncomfortably, looking uncertain as to whether he should follow or not.

Yugoda sighed. "Go, Aguta. It's obvious you do not want to be here."

"But the prisoner—"

"Will stay where he is," Yugoda said firmly. "Don't forget that Katara has also been training under Master Pakku."

Aguta nodded and left the hut. The two healers let out a sigh, though it had to be noted that Katara's was more of an angry huff. Zuko ignored her and stared intently at Yugoda.

"Those men don't respect you," he observed. "Is it because you're a healer?"

She laughed. "No, it's because I'm a woman."

Zuko's brow creased. He would never understand the other nations' attitude towards females. In the Fire Nation, every person had to earn their own respect. Gender had nothing to do with it, though it was true that males were more likely to be seen in positions of power. He knew, however, that no one would blink twice if a female became the new Fire Lord—an event that seemed more and more likely to happen considering the way Zuko's life was going.

"I hate the way they look down on us," Katara gritted out, clenching her hands into fists.

"Don't let it bother you," Yugoda said kindly. "Those men can bluster and wave their spears around all they like, but true strength lies in being able to make the right decisions, not just the expected ones." She met Zuko's gaze. "Such as choosing to heal an enemy, not because you are weak, but because you are strong enough to see that it is the honourable thing to do."

Zuko averted his face. He did not want to hear about honour right now.

"Would you not agree, young man?" Yugoda persisted.

He said nothing.

Katara sighed and sat back on the cushion near the bed. "Well, at least we don't have those two warriors breathing down our necks anymore."

"You're right." Yugoda crossed over to Zuko's side. "Now then, since there's no one left to interrupt us, let's take a look at how those ribs of yours are doing."

Without even thinking about it, he grasped her wrist before she could touch him. A second later he felt the tip of an icicle dig into his neck.

"Let her go," Katara ordered, narrowing her eyes as she held the jagged piece of ice steady.

"Wait." Yugoda waved her free hand in a halting motion. She stared back at him and there was a hint of understanding in her blue irises. "I see now. You do not like to be touched, do you?"

Zuko held her gaze for a long moment and then looked the other way, releasing his grip on her wrist. "I want to know where my uncle is."

"Your uncle?"

"General Iroh," he elaborated, and then threw a heated glance at Katara. "He was there with you at the Spirit Oasis. He was the one who tried to stop Zhao from killing the Moon Spirit. You must know what happened to him!"

Katara shook her head and removed the icicle from his neck. "After Princess Yue became the new Moon Spirit, the general said he was going to look for you. We never saw him again after that." She hesitated. "I—I'm sorry."

Zuko pressed his face against his palms, shaking his head from side to side as if the motion could somehow banish the truth he had seen in her eyes. His uncle had been looking for him—for him—but Zuko had got caught. Their paths had never crossed, so what had happened to his uncle?

"What of the other war prisoners?" he asked, lifting his face from his hands and staring at the healers with unnaturally bright eyes. "There must have been others, right?"

"Just some foot soldiers and firebenders from what Sokka told me," Katara answered. "None of them were particularly high ranking. The rest of the navy fled back to the few ships that were still sailable or were—" She broke off, but she didn't need to say the words. The rest had been killed.

Zuko clenched his hands into fists. So there were only two possible scenarios: his uncle had been killed or else his uncle had fled the city. Except Zuko just couldn't, wouldn't, accept that his uncle was dead. He tried not to think about the alternative. Just the thought that his uncle might have abandoned him to these people made something hurt deep inside of him, as if there were bruises all over his heart and someone was pushing down on each and every one with sadistic pleasure.

His mother had disappeared. His father had banished him. Now his uncle had—

"Ever since I lost my son ... I think of you as my own."

"No," Zuko whispered, pressing his face back against his hands as something hot prickled at the corners of his eyes.

He knew his uncle would never abandon him. Not intentionally. His uncle must have had his reasons for leaving, just like his father had no choice but to banish Zuko all of those years ago. It wasn't that they wanted to hurt him. It was just that he had made things difficult for them. He'd spoken out of turn and disrespected the Fire Lord, and now he'd got himself caught by the Northern Water Tribe. It wasn't their fault; it was his, which was why Zuko knew that he would have to be the one to fix the matter.

I will find you again, Uncle.

He didn't care how long it took. He would escape from this city of ice and then he would meet up with his uncle just like he had promised that he would. Everything would be alright then. Everything would go back to normal. They'd find the Avatar and then—then maybe Zuko could go home. Then maybe he could be reunited with his father as well, except this time Father would not look at him as if he was worthless. This time Father would have to be proud, because Zuko would have succeeded where no one else had. He would have captured the Avatar. He would have restored his honour.

But first he would have to find his uncle.

Zuko took in a shuddering breath, his throat burning from the effort of holding back tears. He refused to cry in front of the waterbenders. He wasn't a child anymore. He could be strong, but that didn't change the fact that it still hurt. For almost three years he had travelled with his uncle. Now he was alone.

"My dagger," Zuko said in a thick voice, raising his head slightly to meet Yugoda's gaze. "What did you do with it?"

"Why would you want to know that?" Yugoda demanded, eyeing him sharply.

Don't cry. Don't cry.

"My uncle gave it to me when I was a boy. It is"—he swallowed hard—"it's important to me."

Yugoda's expression softened. "I see. I will make sure it is safe."

He nodded in acknowledgement and then looked the other way, but not before he caught the wide-eyed look Katara was giving him. Suddenly self-conscious for the weakness he had displayed, Zuko glared at her with perhaps more anger than was necessary. "What?" he snarled. "This isn't a show, you know!"

"I know. I was just—"

"I don't need your pity!"

Her eyes narrowed. "You know what, you don't deserve it either! You're a cruel, horrible person! All you've ever cared about is capturing Aang! If anything, your uncle is probably better off without you!"

"Katara!" Yugoda exclaimed. "That's enough!"

She just turned her back on the two of them. "I'm sorry, Yugoda," she said in a voice that trembled with emotion, "I can't help you heal him anymore. I guess I'm not that strong, after all."

Without waiting for a response, she stalked out of the hut and was lost to their sight as the furs fell back into place. Zuko clenched his hands into fists, inwardly fuming even as the bruises on his heart throbbed a little bit more. He would never admit it, but her words had hit him hard.

"Your uncle is probably better off without you!"

He squeezed his eyes shut. Maybe she was right, but he would still look for his uncle regardless. He'd already lost his mother. He was not about to let his uncle vanish from his life too. There had to be a way he could escape this place. Maybe he could even try again now since the only combative waterbender had left. He was sure he could find some clothes somewhere and then—

The furs covering the doorway parted again and Zuko's eyes narrowed as he watched the warriors enter the hut. There were four of them: tall, strong men with weapons and waterskins glinting from within the folds of their furs. A collection of waterbenders and non-benders. One of the non-benders was Iluq, the same warrior who had tried to threaten Zuko with a knife and who had almost killed him with a kick to the ribs. Then Zuko saw that the other was Kesuk, and he knew something was wrong.

"What is the meaning of this?" Yugoda demanded, getting to her feet. "This boy is—"

"This boy is coming with us," Iluq interjected in a voice that brooked no argument.

"But—"

"You have healed him enough, Yugoda." Icy blue eyes narrowed. "Or are you going to go against your Head Warrior now?"

Yugoda lowered her gaze.

Satisfied, Iluq threw a handful of what looked like ragged bits of cloth and fur at Zuko. "Put these on," he ordered, "and hurry up about it."

Zuko frowned but did as he was told, occasionally throwing wary glances at the men. When he had finished doing up the last tie, one of the waterbenders grasped him by the arm and pulled him into the centre of the group, barricading him within a wall of bodies. Even if Zuko wasn't still feeling so weak and dizzy, he knew that he would not be able to fight them all and escape.

"Walk!" the waterbender ordered gruffly.

He obeyed because he had no choice, but after a while he began to feel frustrated. He hated not knowing what was going on.

"Where are you taking me?" Zuko asked, glancing up at Iluq, who was leading the group.

"To your new home, Prince Zuko," the warrior responded. "I hope the prisons will be to your liking."

Chapter Text

Zuko could not say that he was pleased with his new accommodations. Like every building in the city, the cell he had been given was made completely of ice. Thick ice. There were also no windows or doors, though there was a small gap in the top of the wall that allowed air to circulate.

From what he could tell, it took a waterbender to get in or out of the cell. This added level of security had not particularly bothered him at first. He was a firebender; he had been confident that he would be able to use his bending to burn a path through the wall. Unfortunately, the energy it took to maintain even the smallest plume of flames for that long in his current condition had left him so exhausted that by the time he had created a large enough hole to crawl through, the guards stationed outside had simply grabbed him by the arms and hauled him back in. Then the ice was replaced and Zuko had realised that he would have to come up with a better plan. At least until he could firebend for longer than a minute without wanting to pass out.

Gritting his teeth, Zuko stood up from the fur blanket that served as his bed and started his usual routine of pacing up and down. The cell was so compact that he could only take a few steps before he was forced to turn back around. After living on a ship for almost three years, he was used to enclosed spaces and not having much room to move, but this was different. At least on the ship he had still had a purpose and had known where he was going. There was nowhere to go in this cell, nothing even to break the monotony. All he had for company was a scraggly fur blanket, a chamber pot, and his own bad temper. The guards didn't even bother to speak to him when they brought him his meals, if one could call the disgusting slop they served him food.

He clenched his hands into fists and glared at the wall where his silent visitors usually entered. There had to be a way to get out of this place. He couldn't stand being forced to sit around doing nothing. Being idle just wasn't in his nature. He was used to doing things: training, fighting, studying—anything but this. He'd rather be stuck with that old healer again than trapped in this tiny prison like some caged animal.

The worst part, though, was that he didn't know what would happen to him if he couldn't figure out a way to escape soon. It wouldn't take the council of warriors long to realise that their scheme to use him as a negotiation tool with the Fire Lord was not going to work. Zuko knew his father. As much as it hurt to admit, Ozai would never compromise any kind of advantage he had over his enemies just to rescue a banished son he thought of as worthless.

His hands trembled. He clenched them tighter to stop the motion, creating crescent-shaped indents on his palms. He didn't blame his father. Zuko had indeed proven himself to be worthless. He'd failed to capture the Avatar, despite the many opportunities he had been offered, and then he'd gone and got himself caught by the Northern Water Tribe—not because he'd been fighting heroically against a hoard of waterbenders, but because he'd just been too weak and injured to even notice the non-bending warriors coming up behind him.

It was pathetic. He was pathetic, but Zuko had never let failure or a lack of outside aid stop him before. He just dreaded what would happen once the Northern Water Tribe realised their prized prisoner wasn't so prized after all. Maybe they would kill him or maybe they'd just leave him in this cell to rot. Neither option was appealing.

It doesn't matter, Zuko told himself, still pacing up and down. I'm going to get out of here. I just need to recuperate my strength and then—

The sound of ice splitting had him turning to face the front wall. A crease formed on his brow as he saw a man with a thin white moustache and beard enter the cell. The man sealed the opening in the ice with a flick of his wrist. A waterbender then, and probably a high-ranking one if the quality of that blue-dyed fur was anything to go by.

Zuko's heart quickened as he wondered if this was going to be his first real interrogation. He had known it would happen eventually, and his stomach twisted with unease as he looked into those piercing blue eyes. Zuko had never been a good liar, and this man had an air of shrewdness about him that Zuko did not like. Instead of saying anything, however, he just watched the other man warily. He'd played this game before. He knew better than to make the first move.

"So you're the Prince of the Fire Nation," the man observed, looking him up and down. "Oh, forgive me. The banished prince."

Zuko's jaw tightened. So this man knew he was no longer the heir apparent to the Fire Nation throne. That could be a problem. From what Zuko had seen of the Northern Water Tribe, most of the people had no clue of the politics going on in the outside world. They had shut themselves up behind their walls and only bothered to open their eyes to the truth when the war came knocking on their doorstep. This man was different, though. Zuko knew he would have to tread carefully.

The old waterbender created a stool out of ice and sat down, looking quite at ease. "My name is Pakku," he said, and then he paused and raised an eyebrow at Zuko. "Are you going to sit or are you going to keep standing there like a fool and trying to give me a crick in the neck?"

Zuko flushed and sat down cross-legged on the blanket, feeling suddenly like he was seven years old again and being scolded by Master Mizuto for not using the correct breathing technique. He had to remind himself that this man was not his old firebending tutor and that he was sixteen and a warrior in his own right. It would not do to show weakness or any kind of subservience.

"As I was saying," Pakku continued, apparently satisfied now that he no longer had to look up at him, "my name is Pakku and I am the leader and instructor of the waterbenders in this tribe. I am also one of the chief's advisors." He paused again and his voice softened to a dangerous geniality. "You've made things very difficult for us, Prince Zuko. Do you know that?"

Zuko swallowed. He would have liked to have said that he hadn't asked to be captured, among other less flattering things, but silence was his best defence here. If he spoke, he could give the man an opening to be exploited. Azula had shown him time and time again just how easily he allowed himself to be steered into verbal traps. He wasn't about to make the same mistake again. No, it was best just to play it safe.

Pakku did not seem to be discouraged by Zuko's silence. Instead, he leaned forward and met his gaze with disconcerting directness. "Do you want to know what the council of warriors have been discussing for the past three days, Prince Zuko?"

"Well, since you're in this cell, I'm guessing it's about me."

Stupid. Keep your mouth shut!

Pakku smiled at the sarcasm, if rather wryly. "You're right. We have been discussing you. Or, should I say, we have been discussing what to do with you." He interlaced his fingers together on his lap. "You see, keeping you a prisoner has caused quite a problem for us. Iluq believes we could ransom you to the Fire Lord for peace negotiations. I think that is unlikely, considering the Fire Lord has banished you. Still, it is a persuasive argument and has caused much conflict within the tribe. Some of the other warriors are afraid that, by keeping you here, we will be asking for another attack from the Fire Nation, banished prince or not. They would prefer to have you killed or sent to the Earth Kingdom where someone else can deal with you, along with the rest of the Fire Nation war prisoners."

Zuko gritted his teeth. "Why are you telling me this?"

"Because I want you to understand the precariousness of your situation." Pakku gave another of his dry smiles. "I also want you to understand how tediously complicated you have made things for my tribe because of your reckless stupidity in trying to infiltrate a city of known enemies when a battle was taking place and the risk of capture was high."

Zuko's eyes flashed. "You think I didn't already know that? You think I didn't understand the risks?"

"Obviously not since you allowed yourself to be caught."

His jaw tightened. "You don't know anything, old man."

"Why don't you enlighten me then?"

Zuko clamped his mouth shut. He was not going to take the bait, especially when he wasn't sure what exactly it was that the man was trying to get out of him.

Pakku eyed him thoughtfully. "You know, your uncle was never this uncooperative."

Zuko's heart pounded, and he swallowed against the sudden dryness in his throat. "My uncle? What are you talking about? What does he have to do with this?"

An unreadable gleam crept into the piercing blue eyes. "Ah, it seems I've hit a sensitive spot."

Too late did Zuko realise his mistake. He wondered if Yugoda and Katara had been lying to him. Maybe his uncle had been caught. Maybe the warriors had been interrogating Iroh the whole time that Zuko had been recovering in the healing hut. His stomach twisted, but it was anger that burned in his expression.

"What have you done to my uncle?" he demanded, half-leaning forward as if about to attack. "If you've hurt him, I swear—"

"Calm yourself, Prince Zuko. General Iroh and I have merely had dealings together in the past. It is not so surprising. The war has been going on for a hundred years and your uncle led many battles before his failure at Ba Sing Se."

"Then he's not, he's not—"

"He has not been captured by the Northern Water Tribe, if that is what you're asking."

Zuko couldn't quite hide his relief, which Pakku did not miss.

"You care for him deeply, don't you?"

"What kind of question is that?" Zuko snarled, curling his hands into fists.

"A very straightforward one, but that answer will suffice. I am satisfied."

Zuko narrowed his eyes. "Satisfied with what?"

"That is my business." Pakku stood up from his stool and let the chair melt back into the ice floor. "Oh, and you might want to refrain from trying any more escape attempts. As I have already told you, your position in the tribe is precarious. If you keep being difficult for the guards, I'm afraid that not even I will be able to protect you. A dangerous prisoner is not a prisoner worth keeping. Understand?"

"Yes," Zuko gritted out between clenched teeth.

"Good."

Without a further word, Pakku turned and left the cell, sealing the path up behind him so that Zuko was left staring at a block of ice. It was almost a relief to be alone again, but Zuko could not shake the uneasy feeling that twisted his stomach. That had been a very strange interrogation. He hated the fact that he still had no idea what it was exactly that the old waterbender had been trying to get out of him.

"I don't understand," he muttered.

He didn't feel like he had given any solid information, but apparently he had revealed enough to satisfy the man. It was unnerving.

He leaned back against the icy wall, feeling the cold sink through his borrowed clothes and shiver up and down his skin. Well, at least he had an idea of what the Northern Water Tribe was planning to do with him now. Not that the answer had been especially comforting, but any knowledge was better than the imagined scenarios his mind had been offering. He also understood now that he would have to be very careful about how he planned his escape from the North. Pakku had given him a warning—an unexpected one, but a sincere warning nonetheless. Zuko would have to be patient and wait for the opportune moment if he wanted to get out of this alive, because he certainly did not plan on staying trapped in this frozen hovel.

I'll find a way somehow.

He had to get out of here. He had to find his uncle and then he would finish his mission and capture the Avatar.

Aang, a voice in his mind reminded.

Zuko shoved the thought aside. Maybe once he had allowed himself to be distracted by the kid's friendliness and apparent innocence, but not anymore. Zuko had seen the devastation the Avatar had caused. Even now when he closed his eyes, he could still see the broken ships glowing like ghostly wreckages under the silver light of the moon, still see the bodies floating in the water like some grotesque offering to the Ocean Spirit. That was not something he could forget.

But he did help you, the same voice persisted. He saved your life, even defended you in front of the Northern Water Tribe. You know it's true.

Zuko closed his eyes. It didn't matter. He knew his duty. He knew what he had to do. He was a Prince of the Fire Nation and he would protect his people. He would not let those soldiers' deaths be in vain.

oOo

It was the last day that Aang and the others would be staying within the city of the Northern Water Tribe. Tomorrow, they would be heading to the Earth Kingdom base where they would be given a guard to escort them to Omashu. Everything was working out, except Aang still felt terrible. It had been three days since Zuko had been moved from the healing huts to the prisons, and though he had pleaded with the guards and even Chief Arnook to let him see the prince, no one had granted him access to the cell. It was safer for Aang to stay away, they had suggested. Prince Zuko was too unpredictable; they could not afford to take any risks where the Avatar was concerned. They were sure that Aang would understand.

Aang had understood, but that didn't mean he had been happy with the decision. He didn't believe that Zuko would hurt him; however, what was more worrying were the rumours about what the tribe was planning to do. He didn't like to think that it was true that Chief Arnook would allow Zuko to be executed or shipped off to the Earth Kingdom to be dealt with there, but Aang could also vividly remember how the other warriors had looked at him, as if Zuko were a monster that needed to be stamped out. As if he were less than human and had no worth beyond the tactical advantage he could potentially offer the tribe.

It had been enough to make Aang want to barge into the prisons and break Zuko out himself, a thought that he had secretly considered more than once over the past few days. Yes, Zuko was Fire Nation. Yes, he was their enemy, but Aang knew that Zuko would never have stepped foot inside the North had he himself not come to learn waterbending. Zuko had only ever been trying to capture him, and even then he had never gone out of his way to hurt Aang if he could help it, even going so far as to heal him after their escape from Pohuai Stronghold.

But now it was Zuko who was being held prisoner. Aang couldn't shake the stabbing feeling in his gut that suggested he should be doing something about that.

"There you are!"

He glanced up from where he had been resting against Appa. Sokka came striding towards him.

"Hey, Sokka," Aang greeted in a heavy voice, not quite able to keep the inner turmoil he was feeling from creeping into his tone. "Where's Katara?"

"Still training with Yugoda."

"Right."

Sokka frowned. "You okay? You've been a bit quiet over the past few days."

Aang hugged his knees to his chest. "Just been thinking, that's all."

"Me too," Sokka admitted. "About the battle and ... Yue."

Aang felt something clench in his heart, but he looked at his friend steadily enough. "She's still with us, Sokka. You know that, right?"

"Yeah, I know."

There was a pause as both boys got lost in their own thoughts. Sokka pulled himself together a second later and focussed his attention back on Aang, as if he were only just remembering how they had got to discussing Yue in the first place.

"So what's been eating you?" Sokka asked, sitting down next to him.

Aang sighed. "I'm worried about Zuko."

"Zuko? Why?"

"Because I don't think he's safe here and I can't help but feel like it's my fault he got captured."

Sokka's eyebrows tried to vanish off his forehead. "Seriously, Aang, I know airbenders are all into respecting life and making peace and all that, but this is Zuko we're talking about. Zuko. You know, the guy who has been trying to kill us nonstop since you first got out of that iceberg? You should be happy he's being held prisoner. At least he can't chase us now."

Aang shook his head. "You don't understand. You weren't there with him in the cave. I really don't think he wants to hurt anyone."

"Sure, apart from the fact that he threw fireballs at us every time we came across him."

"You don't understand," Aang repeated, hugging his knees more tightly to his chest.

A crease formed on Sokka's brow. "You're serious about this, aren't you? You really are worried about the jerk."

"You saw the way they treated him, even though it was obvious that he was injured. Iluq nearly killed him. If it wasn't for Katara and Yugoda, he'd probably be dead right now. How can I just leave him here when I know that he's in danger and has no one to defend him?"

Sokka squirmed uncomfortably. "Okay, yes, I'll admit that Iluq and some of those other warriors could give even Zuko a run for his money when it comes to who's the biggest jerk, but there's nothing you can do, Aang. Maybe you feel sorry for Zuko, maybe you even feel guilty, but Katara is right. You never made Zuko follow you here. It's his own fault he got captured. You can't interfere with that."

"It still doesn't feel right."

"That doesn't mean you should interfere with Chief Arnook's decisions."

Aang ignored this remark and clenched his hands into fists. "I just wish they'd let me see him. At least then I'd be able to see if he's okay, but they won't even let me near his cell!"

Sokka exhaled noisily. "It really means that much to you to know that Zuko is safe?"

"Yes!"

"Fine."

Aang blinked. "Wait, what?"

"I said fine. Let's do this."

"Uh, do what?"

A grin. "I mean I'm going to help you get an audience with Prince Jerkbender, that's what."

Aang threw his arms around Sokka in an impulsive hug. "Thank you!" he breathed.

"I wouldn't start celebrating just yet," Sokka detached himself from Aang and got to his feet. "I said I'd help you, but that doesn't mean this is going to work. The guards still might refuse to let you in."

"It'll work. Your plans always work."

They both considered this declaration for a moment and decided to ignore the many times Sokka's plans had crashed and burned in a giant explosion of failure. Much better to stay optimistic.

In the end, Aang had been right to trust in his friend's scheming abilities. A bit of bribery, some questionably acquired alcohol, and a few games of Sānliù Bàozi had seen the frozen wall that led to Zuko's cell open. Sokka had chosen to stay outside and keep the warriors company, or rather make sure no one else found out about the little tryst, so that left Aang to enter the cell alone. This was exactly what Aang had wanted. He wasted no time in stepping through into the frozen chamber, remembering that the guards had only given him ten minutes.

Zuko was sitting on a scraggly blanket on the floor. For a moment, the two boys just stared at each other as the wall of ice sealed back up behind Aang. Then Zuko's eyes narrowed a tremor of heat emanated from him in a wave of tightly controlled emotion.

"You," Zuko said in a soft growl, clenching his hands into fists. "What are you doing here?"

Aang took a step forward. "I came to see if you were alright. None of the warriors would let me visit you after you got moved from the healing hut, and I—"

A bitter laugh had Aang falling silent. "I don't believe this," Zuko said, twisting his mouth. "I don't believe you."

"W-what are you talking about?"

Zuko gave him a look of such open loathing that Aang actually recoiled. "Do you really think you can just walk in here and act like everything is fine between us after what you did? That I would even want any help, let alone concern, from you?"

A crease formed on Aang's brow. "I don't understand."

"You killed them!" Zuko shouted, slamming his fist on the ground. "My people! My crew! Lieutenant Jee, Tomoki, Kan! They're all gone and it's because of you! You killed them all!"

Aang stumbled back, feeling as if he had been struck. "I don't—I didn't—"

"Don't try to deny it!" Zuko snarled, getting to his feet and slashing his hand through the air. "I saw the bodies! I saw the ships! No Water Tribe army could have done that, but you—you most definitely could."

"It wasn't me!" Aang exclaimed. "The Ocean Spirit—"

"Don't you dare try to blame this on the Ocean Spirit! That thing only wanted to get revenge for the Moon Spirit's death; it would have been satisfied with just killing Zhao. But you—you wanted to hurt the Fire Nation itself! You destroyed those ships! You killed those people!"

"No!" Aang shook his head even as hot tears prickled in his eyes. "You don't understand. I was in the Avatar State. I can't control what I'm doing when I'm like that. It just—"

"Then you should have never gone into the Avatar State in the first place!"

There was a harsh silence.

Aang dropped his gaze to the ground, tears spilling down his cheeks. "I couldn't help it," he whispered. "I was angry. The Moon Spirit was dead, the waterbenders were defenceless, and the Fire Nation was overrunning the city."

"So you just decided to merge with the Ocean Spirit and kill everyone?"

"I told you that wasn't me! I never wanted to hurt anyone, but the Fire Nation had just destroyed the Moon Spirit and I—"

"Admiral Zhao is not the Fire Nation!"

There was another painful silence as the two boys stared at each other: Zuko glaring while Aang just looked distressed and defensive. Then Zuko turned the other way, facing his back to Aang.

"Do you know that most of the Fire Nation army and navy are made up of conscripted soldiers?" Zuko asked softly, still keeping his back turned. "Every household in the Fire Nation has to offer up at least one member for service, regardless of their situation. It's considered a great honour to serve your nation, but everyone knows that there are consequences if you refuse."

Something twisted in Aang's stomach. He suddenly felt like he was going to be sick.

Zuko turned back to stare at Aang, meeting his eyes steadily. "Do you understand what I'm saying, Avatar? Some of those people who died during the siege probably didn't want to be there. They would have much preferred to have been at home with their families, but instead they found themselves trying to fight a monster they could not defend against. They found themselves up against you."

"I didn't—I was just trying to protect the Northern Water Tribe."

"Well, congratulations, because you also slaughtered hundreds of men and women in the process."

Fresh tears rolled down Aang's cheeks. "It wasn't me," he whispered. "It can't have been me."

Zuko snorted in disgust. "Deny it all you want, but nothing can change the fact that those people are dead because you chose to call upon the powers of the Ocean Spirit."

Aang couldn't believe it, refused to believe it, but the truth stared back at him from those pale gold eyes. He had gone into the Avatar State. He had summoned the Ocean Spirit, and even though he had never wanted to hurt anyone, it was still his body that had manipulated the mass of deadly water that had torn the Fire Nation ships apart and swept the soldiers clear of the city.

"No." Aang slumped to his knees, burying his face in his hands. "No, no, no."

It wasn't him. It was the Ocean Spirit. It was the Avatar State controlling him. There was no way that he could have wanted to kill those people. He had only been trying to protect the Northern Water Tribe. He had only been trying to drive the ships away. He had never, never wanted to kill anyone.

"It can't be true," Aang said in a pained voice, trembling slightly from the turmoil whirling around inside him. "It just can't."

Zuko said nothing, but the hard expression on his face was answer enough. It was clear that he felt Aang was responsible for the deaths of the Fire Nation soldiers. It was also clear that he hated Aang for it.

Aang reached out imploringly. "Zuko, you know I would never—"

"Don't touch me!" Zuko hissed, taking a step back. "Don't even speak to me!"

"But—"

"No! The fact that you can't accept responsibility for what you've done makes me sick! I can't even stand to look at you right now!"

Aang bit down on his quivering lip, trying to hold back a sob. "You don't understand. I was just—"

Zuko let out a growl and flames sprouted from his clenched fists, flickering dangerously in flashes of orange. "Get out," he ordered in a harsh voice.

"But—"

"Now!"

"Zuko, please. Please, just—"

A stream of fire surged past Aang's face, the heat of the flames grazing his cheek. He stared at the prince with wide eyes.

"Leave," Zuko gritted out, "or I swear I’ll make you suffer for every death you caused."

Aang swallowed against the burning lump in his throat. His cheeks were damp with tears and his stomach was twisted into guilty knots, but more than that was the pain in his heart. This was the boy who had saved him—healed him—and now there was nothing but hate and anger in those eyes. It was as if he was looking into Zuko's face for the first time all over again.

"I'm sorry," Aang said. "I truly am sorry. I never meant to hurt those people. Not like that."

"But you did."

Aang squeezed his eyes shut. Maybe. Maybe not. It was too painful. He didn't want to think about it.

Zuko sighed tiredly. "Enough of this. Just go, Avatar."

More tears rolled down Aang's cheeks. "I don't want you to hate me."

Their eyes met, tangling in a mesh of emotions and unspoken words. Then Zuko turned his back on him, and though he was close enough to touch, it felt to Aang as if a great divide had sprung up between them.

"Any respect I held for you was lost the moment you chose to kill my people in such a dishonourable way," Zuko said bluntly. "The attack on the North should never have happened and Zhao was an idiot to try to destroy the Moon Spirit, but that gave you no right to kill those soldiers without giving them a chance to defend themselves. It was cruel and wrong. If that's your method of keeping the balance, Avatar, then I want nothing to do with you."

Something cold settled in the pit of Aang's stomach. Before he could respond, the wall of ice slid down and one of the guards stepped into the room.

"Time's up, Avatar Aang."

Aang continued to stare at Zuko from his position on the floor, but the prince did not turn to face him. It was just like being back in the clearing after their escape from Pohuai Stronghold, except this time there was no fireball. Aang's heart thudded once, twice, and with every beat he felt as if the organ was being shredded apart in his chest.

"If we knew each other back then, do you think we could have been friends?"

The answer had been no. Now, after everything they had shared together, the answer was still no. Closing his eyes in pained resignation, Aang got to his feet and headed for the door. He paused on the threshold, glancing back at the proud figure of the Fire Nation prince.

"I'm sorry, Zuko," Aang said in a small voice. "I know it doesn't change anything, but I am sorry. I truly never meant for those soldiers to be killed."

Zuko's shoulders tensed, but he did not move from his position or say anything. Aang sighed and followed the guard out of the cell. The sound of the frozen wall sealing back up was like a knife to his heart, but no tears fell this time.

"Hey, you okay?" Sokka asked, catching sight of his expression.

"I don't know," Aang said truthfully.

"What happened? Did that jerk try to hurt you?"

Aang shook his head.

"Then what?"

"I think I might have hurt myself."

Sokka scrunched his face. "Okay, that makes no sense, but sure."

Aang said nothing. He was trying not to think about everything Zuko had said to him, still trying to convince himself that the deaths of the Fire Nation soldiers had not really been his fault. Except he couldn't quite stop the little whispers of truth from slipping through into his mind like grains of sand escaping cupped hands.

"It was cruel and wrong. If that's your method of keeping the balance, Avatar, then I want nothing to do with you."

Aang squeezed his eyes shut. Maybe Zuko was right or maybe he wasn't. Either way, Aang knew he could not let things go like this. He might not be able to salvage the friendship he had been forming with Zuko, but he could at least do one thing right.

Tonight, he was going to break Prince Zuko out of prison.

oOo

It had taken Zuko a long time to fall asleep and when he did he slept fretfully, tossing and turning on his blanket in a restless confusion of emotions that even sleep could not ease. That was how he sensed the moment when there was someone else in the cell with him. His eyes snapped open and he sat up with a fireball in hand to take the intruder unawares, but all he saw was the shadowed form of his own outline imprinted on the ice. Then he noticed the large gap carved into the front wall, just allowing him a glimpse into the adjoining corridor.

"What?" he murmured with a frown.

His knee brushed against something hard. He glanced down in surprise to see a folded piece of parchment resting underneath a beautifully crafted dagger. Zuko's heart quickened as he closed his hand around the hilt, feeling the familiar grooves caress his fingers. He didn't need to remove the knife from its sheath to know what the inscription would say on the sharpened metal.

"Never give up without a fight," Zuko whispered, closing his eyes. "Uncle."

For a moment he was filled with an intense ache of longing, but he pulled himself together and tucked the dagger into his boot. Picking up the piece of parchment from the ground, he unfolded it and scanned the script. The handwriting was unfamiliar, but the words had him trembling in disbelief. Someone wanted to help him escape.

Zuko glanced back at the open doorway and, making his decision, slipped the parchment into his pocket. Cautiously, he made his way out of the cell, pausing when he spotted the guards slumped on the ground in the corridor. So it seemed the anonymous note writer had not been lying; the path really had been cleared for him.

Knowing better than to waste another second, Zuko left the prisons and followed the instructions on the note to the outskirts of the city where his benefactor said a means of transportation was waiting for him. There were only a few warriors on patrol this late at night and they were all effortless to avoid. In no time at all, Zuko was at the designated spot, half-believing that he would find nothing but an icy beach. Instead, he saw a small but durable raft banked on the shore, which could easily be steered by one person. Stocked on the raft were a pack of food rations, a decent supply of water, one paddle to steer in case the winds should die, and furs to keep him warm. There was also another piece of parchment.

Zuko picked up the note and frowned as a white lotus tile rolled free of the folds. He caught the wooden counter and glanced down at the characters written on the parchment.

"Follow the path of the ancient ways and you will find what you are seeking," he read aloud. "If you are wise, you will not return to this place again."

Zuko rolled his eyes. A convoluted riddle and an unnecessary warning; it was like being back with his uncle all over again. Still, he had time enough to figure out what it all meant. Right now he just had to focus on getting out of this place.

Stuffing the tile into his pocket, Zuko pushed the raft out more into the water and clambered on top, taking hold of the rope to control the sail. He tried not to think of all the unfinished business he was leaving behind—of the failures and the pain, and especially not of the boy who had tearfully whispered that he didn't want Zuko to hate him. Instead, he closed his eyes and breathed in the cold, salty air, letting it renew him with a sense of freedom and direction.

It was time to press forward. It was time to find his uncle.

oOo

The cell was empty. Aang stared at the scraggly furs on the floor and saw the indentations where a body had slept. His heart clenched as he realised the truth. Zuko was gone.

"I'm too late," Aang whispered, feeling suddenly as if all of the energy had been drained from his body.

Somehow, Zuko had managed to escape by himself and now Aang would never know if he could have made things better between them. It was a disappointing discovery, but Aang could not begrudge Zuko his freedom. He was glad that Zuko had managed to get free, even if it did mean losing the opportunity to speak to him again.

"I hope the next time we meet will be under better circumstances," Aang murmured to the empty cell.

Because he knew there would be a next time. In fact, he was counting on it.