Chapter Text
Sound carries really well in the Western air temple.
Zuko doesn’t find out until much, much later.
Had he known, he might have made more of an effort to muffle his voice when the nightmares descend upon their nightly prey. He might have even gone so far as to avoid sleep altogether. Obviously that was a battle he is destined to lose, but Zuko’s sure he can give it a fighting chance.
As it is, ignorance is bliss. And so Zuko continues to retreat into the safe ( lonely ) privacy of his room and surrender to the grasp of his merciless nightmares.
Until one day a particularly vivid rendition swiftly robs him of not knowing.
It’s the night after they’ve seen the Firebending Masters, and Zuko’s still enamoured, seeing the bright colours in fire, colours he’s never dreamed could be possible. And it is with this wonder and a bone deep exhaustion that he slips to sleep.
The rainbow flames begin to morph into images far more sinister.
Mother turns away, her faceless features somehow -
A tender hand cups Zuko’s cheek, and he has just enough time to hope that this was a forgiving tender caress, before Father’s palms light up in agonizing heat and the hope melts away like the skin of his face-
He pants, he tries to scrabble back but the grip is firm now, he feels the handprint burn into his eye socket and he screams-
Father’s face morphs into Uncle’s, and Zuko just breaks down into sobs because yes he deserves this but no please noooo-
“Zuko! Spirits, wake UP!”
Zuko jerks upright, the shriek coming out as little more than a gasp. The vision of Father and Uncle and mother -all the people he’s loved and he’s lost still flickering behind his eyelids, and it’s a fight to keep them open, to not just surrender back into that darkness.
So it takes an embarrassingly long time to register the sight of five pairs of eyes staring into his in varying degrees of worry and horror.
“Zuko, it’s okay, it’s just us,” Aang says, but his eyes are as scared as Zuko feels.
“Hey buddy, you with us?”
Zuko shakes his head, then dimly realises how it answers Sokka's question in the negative.
He’s rarely felt as vulnerable as he has right then, fighting for breath and struggling against the memories of Ozai’s cruel, cruel smile while his newfound uneasy allies (is that what they were? Were they even there yet?) crowd around him.
“You're at the Western Air Temple," Sokka enunciates each word carefully, the way Uncle used to when he finds Zuko like this. "You're in your own room. You're safe, uh, mostly." He's talking like Zuko’s a skittish animal, and Zuko hates that.
He opens his mouth to tell the other boy just how much, but his chest is still heaving and he can’t find the strength to shout.
Stomach roiling, Zuko registers the slide of something warm down the left side of his face -close enough to tears but he knows enough to know they’re not that and can’t be, because that eye hasn’t been able to shed tears for three years.
Zuko’s face burns. Somehow in his abysmal attempt at sleep he’s still apparently managed to claw at his scar until it’s bleeding little crimson tear tracks down the left side of his face. He tries to cover it by turning his head away from their sight, but obviously it is a poor disguise.
They’ve all seen.
Katara, heart bigger and better than Zuko’s could ever be despite her very vocal dislike of him, moves towards his left. “You’re bleeding,” she says, her voice coming out as a weird mix of stricken concern and its usual “despise Zuko” tone. “Let me-”
It’s been years, it’s been three whole years but it’s also just a moment ago his face was on fire and the world was an inferno, and so Zuko can’t stop the horrible flinch and shudder that wracks his body when her hand reaches out. He presses a trembling palm to his face and tries to pretend it’s got nothing to do with self defense or the brightness in his eyes.
It’s hard to pretend right now. Zuko’s worn down to the bone, there’s very little of himself left.
“None of that right now, Sweetness,” he hears Toph say, her voice unusually quieter than usual.
“I’m trying to help him-”
“Go away,” Zuko finally manages, though his voice is a lot less strong than he’d like. If only he could stop shaking , maybe his voice would stop shaking too. “Get out.”
Someone inhales very deeply. “Dude," Sokka says, "You were screaming so loud you woke us from halfway across the temple."
Zuko stiffens even with his hand covering his face. “I apologise for waking you,” he manages.
“That’s not what I meant!“ Sokka lets out a sound of frustration. Zuko may be bad at reading people, but he’s always been hyper-aware and able to tell when he’s pushing the limits of someone’s patience (another gift Ozai’s left him with.) And right now the room is reverberating with ire and upset and Zuko-- can’t deal with this, not right now.
He doesn’t know what they want from him, he’s already given his apology and yeah it’s inadequate but it’s all he has left to give.
“Get out, Go away,” he repeats. It’s not begging if he doesn’t say please, right? “I’m sorry I woke you, it won’t happen again, just go .”
There’s a beat where no one moves.
Then Aang does the exact opposite of what Zuko’s just asked (demanded, really) and comes closer.
Zuko wants to snarl and rage about boundaries and respect, but he’s. Drained. And maybe Aang’s timid approach reminds him of another boy, once a very long time ago.
Something’s changed between them since meeting the dragons, and Zuko’s not sure what it is but it scares him a little, because the airbender’s sudden friendliness is so unfamiliar that it’s intimidating. Zuko keeps waiting for the other shoe to drop, but then, Aang is an airbender and has always been light of feet.
“I know you want us to leave you alone,” Aang starts, brows furrowing, “but, um, I don’t think I’d feel good leaving you alone after that.”
Zuko closes his eyes, because really, this kid. “‘M fine,” he mutters. “It’s just a bad dream.”
“Must be some bad dream if it makes a jerkbender scream like that,” Sokka says, but his voice lacks any bite.
“Don’t,” Zuko says tiredly. He knows how much he’s showing in that moment and hates himself for it, but really, his honour is in tatters and they’ve already seen him at his worst. Why does he even bother? “Go away, please.”
His eyes are still closed, so he misses the look Sokka and Aang exchange.
Then the weight shifts beside him. “Sorry, Sparky, not getting rid of us that easily,” Toph says as she clambers next to him on the bed. Zuko tenses, but Toph uncharacteristically maintains a distance outside of his personal bubble, so he forces himself to breathe.
Aang thrusts something into his lap. “Here, have a Momo!”
Zuko looks down into large green eyes. Momo blinks up at him somewhat curiously, like it doesn’t know what it’s doing or why it’s there, and Zuko can sympathise. He’s not sure what exactly he’s supposed to do with this furry creature in his lap either, but who was Zuko to resist the power of a cute animal?
So he pets the little winged lemur. It scritches and curls its tail around him, its little hands pattering against his ribs. And okay, that- that is nice. Comforting. Something that’s been roiling within him seems to settle a little.
Aang watches with a wide smile on his face. “Momo likes you!”
“I like him, too,” Zuko answers quietly. Momo’s soft fur and chirping reminds Zuko a little bit of a turtleduck, so he tells Aang that.
“Oh, I love a good braised turtleduck. They’re a specialty in the Earth Kingdom,” Toph says, smacking her lips.
Zuko lifts his head to stare at her in horror at the same time Aang does. Sokka starts cackling.
"Your face! Oh spirits!" Sokka laughs. "Who knew big bad ponytail jerk has a soft spot for turtleducks of all things!"
Katara’s glaring, but she’s also not moving. Probably her hatred of Zuko is a little less than her hatred of leaving Aang with Zuko, though with Toph there Zuko doesn’t know what or who she thinks she needs to protect. If he wanted to kidnap Aang, he would have done it before they had their little field trip, after all.
“Let me see the cut,” she orders. Zuko blinks and absolutely does not cry out as water lightly splashes onto his face.
The rock that Zuko’s been using as a bed is very abruptly on fire.
“I told you not now, Sugar Queen!” Toph yells, as Aang uses his newly acquired mastery to put out the flames. Zuko’s blabbering, apologising to what or who he isn’t sure, but Toph points an unerring finger at him and tells him to shut it.
“Dude, it’s not your fault, you’re okay,” Sokka tells him seriously, his eyes for once lacking the begrudging way Zuko’s become far too familiar with being looked at with.
Then he raises his voice over the din. “Hey, guess what’s for supper?” Sokka asks nobody in particular, indicating the no-longer on-fire bed. Nobody responds, so he answers himself. “The Boiling bed-Rock.”
IT takes a second for the pun to sink in, then Sokka’s then hit in the face by said projectile, albeit a markedly less hot one.
Zuko’s still shaking, and he’s fairly sure the next few nights are going to be sleepless ones, but the memory of merciless liquid gold eyes are already beginning to slip away against the pure chaos that is this misfit group of too-powerful children.
.
(Zuko doesn't know it yet, but that's the first moment the ice that divides the team begins to crack.)
