Archive of Our Own

1. Habitual

For their first official bending lesson after the dragons, Zuko decided on fire punches. They were quick, relatively easy, and good for clearing space. It seemed like an appropriate first thing to teach when on the deadline Zuko had to work with: Just teach the Avatar an entire element before his father burned the world down in a month. Easy. Simple.

Aang, again, asked for a demonstration, which Zuko was relieved to find he could complete unlike the last time. He fired off some blasts and added a kick at the combination’s end which he knew his father favored. It was important for Aang to start becoming familiar with the type of firebender he was going to face.

When Zuko finished, he realized Aang was standing further away. Nevertheless, he beckoned him to stand alongside and taught him the motions before he cleared him for trying the real thing.

Aang did a few shaky, dark red blasts over the balcony’s edge. But, by the end of the hour and with a few corrections, Aang’s fire blasts soared, bright and powerful.

Zuko felt a note of pride. This was what Uncle had talked about when finding his destiny. Aang was a natural, and if this pace continued, Zuko could have Aang master the basic forms before Sozin’s Comet.

It was the first time, in a long time, that Zuko felt right.

“Like this, Sifu Hotman?” Aang called out over his shoulder after another series of punches, now starting to show off.

 Zuko, for once, found himself not annoyed at the title. “Yeah, just like that.”

It was time for part two—throwing fire at another person. Aang could throw fire into empty space all day, but ultimately it was useless if he couldn’t use it against an opponent.

He waved Aang over. “Alright, do the same thing but at me. I’ll show you how to block, and we’ll go from there.” Aang deflated at the words, and Zuko didn’t know what he said that ruined the airbender’s excitement.

The fun part about fire bending was the fire?

They separated after Zuko reminded Aang on how to place his feet. He put his hands up in a basic defensive position waiting for him to throw the first punch. Aang for his part looked timid, backing up a few more steps before raising his arms.

The flames didn’t even reach the halfway mark between them.

Zuko closed part of the distance. “I know how to block fire. That’s one of the first moves I learned, so don’t worry about going easy on me,” Zuko stated. Aang nodded, but the following attempts were no improvement.  

“Again,” Zuko ordered.

When Aang completed his next punch, Zuko took a big step towards him, so the fire actually connected.

Aang’s voice echoed out in the gorge. “Stop—” He cut himself off, after seeing Zuko had blocked his blast with ease.

“It’ll be harder to teach him firebending,” Katara had told him coldly on his second day, and Zuko had been expecting that. Firebending had taken Aang’s home, his culture, his people. It had burned and burned since then, trying to consume the world.

After the dragons, Zuko assumed Aang wouldn’t be so scared, but looking at the boy’s face he realized how wrong he was. He had been expecting Aang to move on too fast. Understanding the source of all firebending was different than throwing it at someone.

Zuko held up his hands, showing that they were fine and sat down. The demonstration part would have to wait. Aang mirrored him, taking the opportunity to get away from the ‘throw fire at your teacher’s face’ exercise.

“I burned someone once.” Aang supplied before Zuko could ask him what was wrong. The words rushed out like Aang couldn’t keep it to himself any longer. “It was Katara.” His voice lowered even further. “If it weren’t for her healing, her hands would have scarred. I don’t want to hurt anyone like that again.”

Zuko felt hyperaware of his own scar at that moment. The situation reminded him of the first time he lit a candle on the Wani. He couldn’t summon a spark to light the candle Uncle was holding until he explained the contingency plans for an out-of-control fire and demonstrated the exact moves he’d do if Zuko’s flames got away from him.

“I can teach you, so that never happens,” Zuko reassured. “But in the meantime, I can block anything you throw at me.” He moved his arms into several defensive configurations to emphasize the point. “Even if I can’t, and you do burn me, Katara can heal it. No one is going to walk away scarred, and I’m not scared of your fire. You won’t be either.”

As if the Avatar read his mind, he whispered, “Did you ever fear it after…you know?” The boy is tentative, voice full of care.

Zuko knew Aang caught his flinch.

“Yeah. I did. I’ve lost my firebending more than once. My uncle and the drive to capture you brought it back the first time,” Zuko managed to say. His resolve hardened. His father wouldn’t be able to burn the Avatar when Zuko was done teaching him.

The Avatar’s eyes lingered on splotchy skin. Zuko went to scowl— it was still so natural for him—and Aang looked down at the ground in shame. It was all very quick, and Zuko fought off the instinct to stalk off.

“I’m sorry that happened to you,” Aang offered, bringing his knees to his chest. Now, the roles reversed, and it was Aang trying to comfort him. He made it sound like he knew the scar was inflicted. The Avatar was too close to the truth.

“It was an accident,” Zuko lied. The words felt foreign on his tongue despite it being the same lie he’s told his crew, refugees in Ba Sing Se, and himself in the mirror. How do you tell someone that your father burned you in front of a roaring crowd? How do you confront that truth yourself? All while trying to dispel a very valid fear of fire?

Aang grimaced, but Zuko didn’t acknowledge it. He might not be ready to voice the truth behind his scar, but he was ready to teach Aang firebending.

Zuko held up a palm of flame close enough to his scar that he felt heat coat it. “I can do this. I couldn’t always.” He gestures with the flame. “And I trust you. You won’t burn me.”

“Promise?” Aang asked, eyes glued on the flame in Zuko’s palm.

“Promise.” That, he was completely honest about.

Instead of making Aang get up and start throwing fire, Zuko told him he had a new lesson in mind. He summoned a small dragon made of fire, an old theater trick. It danced and twirled around Aang’s shoulders, into the sky, in loops and in dives, until the airbender was begging for Zuko to teach him how.

With Sozin’s Comet looming over his head, Zuko had gotten too fixated on the forms. He forgot to foster what they had learned from the dragons. Firebending wasn’t about fighting. It was about life and connection. It was a dance, alive and from the heart like warmth rising into the colored sky.

Sozin’s tradition dictated that firebenders trained with the aim of overwhelming their opponent with force and flames, but Zuko was going to do things differently– a lot of things differently– starting with Aang’s firebending lessons. And when they won, Zuko had a feeling they would all change the world.

That night, two small fire dragons danced in the Western Air Temple’s halls, bright and free.

2. Embarrassment

“Hey Zuuuuko, check this out!” Sokka hung by one arm from the doorframe of his office, waving a newspaper at him in the other.

Usually, Zuko would have been happy to go along with whatever this was going to be (anything to get out of reading meeting notes), but he rightfully got a feeling of foreboding whenever Sokka elongated his name. He got up from his desk to snatch the newspaper away and spotted Aang looming behind. They grinned in unison, letting themselves in.

Something was definitely up. He looked to the paper.

THE ONE OMASHU                         

EXCLUSIVE SCOOP: The Firelord’s DISASTER Date with Earth Kingdom Girl

Despite the tabloid’s attention-grabbing headline, it was a fairly accurate retelling of his date with Jin. Though rereading it in print, Zuko forgot how embarrassing he could be…barely holding a conversation with her? Saying he did nothing for fun? Holding up a tea coupon when she leaned in to kiss him?

His face was certainly turning red. No.

Oh no. Sokka and Aang were definitely going to capitalize on this.

“So, you used to work at the traveling circus?” Sokka started out. Aang for his part was holding several objects from around the palace: brushes, a rock from the garden, even an inkwell. He tossed them into the air and juggle them until items went crashing. Aang managed to save the inkwell as everything else clattered to the floor.

Zuko was going to survive this by being casual. He was completely unphased and at peace like a Firelord should.

After Aang had collected everything, Sokka leaned in conspiratorially. “Hmm, you know what, Aang? I think you might need a demonstration from our friend Zuko!”

Zuko determined being 100% casual about everything was going to be harder than he thought.  

“Firelord Zuko, it would be my honor to learn how to juggle three calligraphy brushes, an inkwell, and a rock from you,” Aang intoned. In the process, he dropped the items on the ground again to make the Fire Nation bow.  

“I don’t know how to juggle!” Zuko exclaimed. In hindsight, he couldn’t believe he lied to Jin when she asked him if he knew how. And why didn’t he say he was a farmer or stone mason? She would have believed that! 

It was hard to be casual when your past self-made it impossible.

“But I thought since you said you were in the travelling circus you could help me?” Aang said faking disappointment from his held bow. Sokka was snickering through his hands. He had already deemed the scene worthy of a “drawing.”

“I never implied I was part of the traveling circus…the article made that up,” he fibbed to Aang, partly so he didn’t give juggling with glass another try despite Zuko already telling him he didn’t know how.

“But the rest of it’s true?” Sokka quipped back. Aang stood up straight from the bow to catch Zuko’s silent nod. Hopefully no more juggling practice, at least?

Sokka’s grin grew. “So, you really held a coupon up to a girl trying to kiss you?” Caught.

Zuko was certain his face was the color of his robes when he half-heartedly explained that it was a really good deal.

“I think he did,” Aang said in between giggles.

Maybe across the world, Jin was able to get a good laugh out of their “disastrous” date too. And hopefully a good sum from the magazine –that would be fitting for having to entertain an awkward Fire Prince for two hours, Zuko decided.

The Firelord rolled his eyes, accepting his fate. “Any chance we’re not telling Toph and Katara?”

Sokka put that fear to rest.

“Zuko, we’ll let your ‘special’ way with the ladies remain a secret between us three.”

3. Protection

Aang saw the letter before Zuko could pull it underneath his folded arms. A petition from Admiral Zhao’s younger sister, on behalf of the man’s impoverished family, asking for Zhao’s pension and apologizing for her brother’s actions.

The airbender must have seen the family seal, brazenly large at the bottom of the letter because he asked, “where is Zhao these days?” like Zhao was in a cell somewhere still rambling about spirits and world domination. Alive.

The Ocean Spirit had taken care of him. Zuko wondered if the spirit would have taken him too, if he didn’t get out of the way, or did the spirit already know what type of role he would play?

He had no means of finding out, but the spirit did take a life right in front of him on that ice bridge. Zuko would never forget extending his hand, and Zhao’s cold, proud look in response. He had chosen death.

Zhao’s bones were now in cold, dark water up north. It was a death Zuko feared for himself during his banishment. One where he’d die in a foreign land, and, even in death, never return home. It was the fate his entire crew suffered.

Zuko had Zhao officially declared dead along with the thousands of others in his invasion fleet, along with the crew of the Wani he never said goodbye to, never apologized to…

“He died,” Zuko explained curtly. He didn’t want him to pry further. Aang always felt guilt over what happened to the Fire Nation fleet despite his and Katara’s protests.

“I killed how many?” Aang had asked him. Wide eyes desperate, they tried to see through him for an answer.

“You didn’t kill anyone, Aang,” Katara interrupted. She was right. This twelve-year-old boy didn’t kill anyone. He fused with the Ocean Spirit to save the Northern Water Tribe.

Zuko’s assurance felt stuck in his throat.

Ten thousand still died. Iroh tried to shield him from the floating bodies and capsized boats. He couldn’t avoid the stench nor the bile that came up when he spotted those who remained. Those who had been quick enough to throw off their armor floated on the gentle sea, putrefied and deformed.

Zuko mustered a response. “It’s Zhao’s fault. The fleet should have never been there in the first place.” He hoped Aang believed him. Zuko didn’t hold Aang at fault, but the entire event was still too horrifying to talk about.

There were several days Zuko would lay out on the raft pretending to be asleep to the litany of prayers Iroh offered. Staying ridged as the dead themselves, Zuko would wonder when they were next. He’d curse the spirit that caused all of this, and his eyes would burn with the prick of tears at the possibility of his uncle rotting underneath a cold sun.

There are moments where Aang seemed otherworldly. Like he was more Avatar than airbender. The boy gave him a look, and Zuko clenched his jaw. It was true! It was Zhao’s fault!

But the ocean spirit in sparing him still left his mark. The thought of returning north filled him with dread. His dreams were dotted with the dead, bobbing in the water, questioning why he was still alive when they had all died.

His journey back from that ordeal was etched into his very bones. Zuko couldn’t get the horror and desperation out if he scraped his bones dry, roasting them over a fire till they cracked. It was a part of him now. And Aang could see that within him. That otherworldly quality had perceived his terror. Zuko’s words, no matter how much he might want, couldn’t do anything to assure the boy. 

Aang got that same look of guilt that no child should have to carry. The last time Aang had that look, Zuko failed in reassuring him about the fleet, and even though the airbender tried to hide it, Zuko knew the events of the north haunted Aang too. He wasn’t going to fail again.

“I killed him, okay? I don’t want to talk about it,” Zuko decided to say it in an instant, fixing his eyes on Zhao’s seal. His cageyness about everything from his time in the north sold the confession.

“Oh.” That’s all Aang could say, but his face lost the tension it was carrying. Aang believed him, and the lie unwound the guilt from around his neck. At least, Zuko was able to shield Aang from this one false guilt.

The Avatar had been able to see the terror that clawed at his ribs, but Zuko was relieved Aang never caught the lie hidden within his heart.

4. Omission

It was hard growing up with Azula as a sister in the toxic environment his father curated. Zuko was pretty sure the only reason he survived his childhood was because he was a firebender, but most of the time he hardly felt like one compared to his sister.

Maybe that’s why whenever Bumi II came to him about sword fighting or mediation or any request really, Zuko was feeling indulgent. Not that the environment at Aang and Katara’s was anything like his childhood, but because Zuko knew what it was like to be up against prodigies and draw short every time.

All Aang and Katara’s children were exceptional. Tenzin was progressing nicely under Aang’s watchful eye, and Kya had been aiming water whips at people since she was six. Bumi could swing a sword, recite poetry, and cook better than his parents, but the press and high society latched onto his two younger siblings despite how hard Aang and Katara worked at giving them all a private life.

The only grace Zuko could take from his childhood was the people who judged him against his sister didn’t care to spread it internationally. And that the camera wasn’t invented until he was in his twenties. Bumi didn’t have such luxuries.

So, when Bumi came to him during Team Avatar’s annual reunion on Ember Island asking to speak in private, Zuko took him down to his favorite spot on the beach expecting to discuss Bumi’s writing or swordsmanship. Something pertaining to his job as uncle.

“Uncle Zuko, I want to join the United Forces,” Bumi declared.

So, that was not what Zuko had expected.

Bumi had never expressed interest in the United Forces, a group morphing into the de facto military of the United Republic instead of staying a world peace collaboration like intended—a true political minefield Zuko didn’t feel like navigating on their vacation.

“You do?” Zuko forgot his Uncle-like decorum.

Bumi looked him dead in the eye. “I need to prove myself, Uncle.” Zuko swore he heard his younger self. “I want to be more than my parents’ non-bending son. The United Forces is a chance for me to be just Bumi, to make someone proud, to do something good for the world.”

Zuko interrupted Bumi’s rehearsed speech. “Who said they weren’t proud of you?” He lowered his voice. He didn’t want Bumi to think he was incensed at him. “Your parents are so so proud of you, Bumi. Your Uncle Sokka, Aunt Suki, Aunt Toph, Aunt Mai, and I are proud.”

Bumi, at least, looked moved, flushing red, but covered it up with a grumble of “no one in particular” and “you sound like my mom.”

Zuko shrugged. “Katara’s usually right about things. I would know. She’s been throwing water at my head since she was fourteen.”

The mention of the past did nothing to dissuade Bumi. He leaned forward in his beach chair with renewed intensity. “Remember when you said the best thing Ozai did for you was banishing you?”

Zuko was instinctively shaking his head before he fully parsed the implications of that. His banishment helped him see the Fire Nation and his father for what they truly were. He saw how the world was dying because of them, and yes, he did grow and even helped save it, but that was then not now. The world he and his friends had a hand in creating was nothing like it was.

Yet, Bumi had essentially drawn an unbreakable link between the two.

Bumi responded to the horror on Zuko’s face. “No, no, no,” Bumi said, putting his hands on his head out of frustration. “Okay, it’s nothing like that,” the teenager rambled before composing himself once more. “But I’m the Avatar’s son, and my mom is the best waterbender on the planet. I’m defined by everything I’m not.”

“That’s not true,” Zuko started out. Maybe he was arguing more for himself than against Bumi at this point. He didn’t want to see such a similarity between them. It wasn’t the world Bumi’s parents worked so hard for, he worked so hard for. “You can be anything you want to be!”

The kid, who was rapidly seeming less and less like a child, shook his head. “I just want one deployment where my accomplishments are fully my own, and where I can do some good in the world as Bumi instead of as the son and nephew of the world’s saviors.”

He took a breath and stared out to the sea. “If I have this, I might not care about what other people think of me because I will know who I am.” 

Zuko closed his eyes. The quiet between them was filled by the familiar crashings of the sea continuing at a steady rhythm. It used to be the music he fell asleep to every night for three long, almost hopeless years. All he had was Uncle Iroh back then.

Zuko remembered Uncle trying to get him to play some games with local Earth Kingdom boys at port, to participate at music nights, and setting him up on a date in Ba Sing Se. All things where he could have just been Zuko.

Maybe the boy across from him needed the same chance despite different, healthier circumstances.  

“There’s no other job or apprenticeship where you feel like you could do this?” Zuko asked because he knew Aang and Katara were not going to be excited about the prospect of sending their sixteen-year-old into the military. There was no universe where that would go down well.

Bumi further explained why it had to be the United Forces.

First, leaking that the Avatar’s son was among their ranks would be a breach of protocol, making it was one of the few places he would be afforded relative privacy. Second, Bumi had a common Earth Kingdom first name and no last name in accordance with both Air Nomad and Water Tribe traditions. His name on the intake forms, Bumi of Republic City, would be inconspicuous enough to dodge favoritism. Third the United Forces were devoted to keeping peace, and Bumi wanted to make a difference in the world.  

It was clear to Zuko that Bumi had done his research.

“Plus, I could see the world just like my parents did!” Bumi added. The boy knew the longer Zuko was silent, the more his idea was being considered.

The Firelord let out a long sigh. “How are you going to convince your parents?”

“About that…I’m not ready to tell them, I know it’s not going to be easy.” Bumi kept his eyes glued on the dark waves collapsing. “Could I ask you for a favor, Uncle?”

Zuko expected to be roped into convincing Katara first, and then both could work on Aang, who had been tentative about the United Forces’ creation and rejected being involved. This was going to be a long process.

Bumi surprised Zuko again by not saying that at all.

“Could I store the paperwork with you? I don’t want my parents finding it before I tell them. I just need some time.” The teenager’s hands are fidgeting now.

And, that was easy for Zuko. He said yes and procured paperwork by hawk. Bumi filled out the forms, sealing them as he went, and handed them off to Zuko at the reunion’s end. After he told his parents, all Bumi had to do was write him, and the paperwork would be on its way to Air Temple Island the same day awaiting Aang and Katara’s final approval.

Zuko was indulgent. He wrote a letter of recommendation too, just in case Bumi needed it.

That day did come, a few weeks later, and Zuko sent all the materials plus his letter by hawk.

Three days after that, Zuko received Aang in disarray.

It took seven days to find Bumi under a false name on a United Forces frigate and send him home.

“You knew about this,” Aang said, words sharp. “You’re lucky it’s me you’re dealing with and not Katara.” The wind picks up, blowing Zuko’s hair in his face, and he cannot help but think it’s on purpose.

Aang had sought him out at dawn’s first light in one of Air Temple Island’s many gardens where he knew Zuko would be alone for the sunrise.

It’s the morning after Zuko personally had to pull rank as a Founder of the Republic and as Firelord to board a United Forces cruiser and cart an unsuspecting Bumi, who was eating dinner in the mess hall with newfound friends, back to Air Temple Island.

His international stunt in getting Bumi back—Zuko can already imagine the incoming headlines— was the only reason Aang was even talking to him.

“Spirits! You even gave him a letter of recommendation? You really went behind my back on this one!” Aang sounded unnatural when he was angry. His voice wavered on syllables, too loud at all the wrong intervals. Aang’s anger was always a poor façade constructed to cover up hurt.

Aang continued, and Zuko was surprised to not see sparks on his exhale. “Bumi told me you didn’t know he was going to run away, but you certainly helped him along and kept it from us! Why wouldn’t you tell me that?”

Zuko sighed. He had laid awake for most the night in his usual room in the temple anticipating how this conversation might go. “The reason I did it was because there was a time I needed to be on a boat figuring out who I was. Bumi needs that too.”

“Your banishment inspired you to lie to us about our son?” Aang balked. His anger is masked in incredulity. “There is nothing in what happened to you that is similar to Bumi! Nothing!”

“I told him the same thing, but you know what my Uncle always did during those three long years?” Zuko felt brave enough to turn towards Aang fully. “He tried to have me make friends with boys my age, play the tsugi-horn, and get a girlfriend. He wanted me to have a chance at being myself, not banished Prince Zuko.”

Aang took a calming breath, and it is their decades long friendship keeping him from arguing back.

“Bumi wants to do the same thing, to find himself…I think you should hear him out before having him unenlist. He seemed happy until he realized I was onboard. He even made a few friends.”

When Aang spoke again, the wind had died down to a gentle breeze. Confusion and regret had siphoned his anger. “I didn’t know Bumi felt so…” The airbender couldn’t finish the sentence. “I love my family, but sometimes I think being the Avatar is so much easier than being a father.”

It wasn’t the appropriate time, but Zuko couldn’t help but laugh, thinking about Izumi and all her stubbornness she got from him, the arguments it pulls them into, and how he wouldn’t trade it for anything in the entire world. “You can say that again, and I only have one.”

“I just can’t believe after how much the world’s changed, there’s still reasons out there that  made Bumi want to leave…I love Bumi more than what can be put into words, and I still failed him.”

“Do you think my uncle failed me?”

 A string of denials was Aang’s answer.

“Then I don’t think you’ve failed Bumi. There are things we can’t control—even as the Avatar and the Firelord, especially as the Avatar and the Firelord. Our kids were born with a heavy legacy to carry. I’m so worried Izumi will get lost in her role as princess of the Fire Nation, but the only thing I can do about it is trying to nurture who she wants to be, not who she should be.”

Aang looked pensive. “And if she doesn’t want to be Firelord?”

“All hail Firelord Azula,” Zuko joked but it doesn’t land well with his one-man audience.

“Seriously, Zuko!”

He shrugged. “If Izumi comes to me and says she doesn’t want to be Firelord, I guess I’m dusting off the genealogy records and giving one of my distant cousins the biggest promotion of their life.”

The imagery of Zuko busting down a minor noble’s door proclaiming them first in line did get Aang to crack a smile. “That’ll be a shock….” Their back and forth died down after that. He didn’t expect Aang’s mind to be changed in one conversation. Instead, he was content to watch the sun slowly rise in the sky.

“I don’t want him to get hurt. I know he’s talented and can defend himself, but I lost everyone in the ice. While I’m happy you guys and then the children became my family, I can’t go through a loss like that again.” Aang confessed, hands fidgeting in the same manner Bumi’s did.

Zuko’s first thought was to assure him that the United Forces mostly patrol their own territory, that the United Republic has ironclad treaties with all nations, that the war ended more than three decades ago. Though none of these things would dissuade Zuko’s fear if the situations were reversed, if it were Izumi who wanted to join the military instead.

It’s Zuko who initiated the hug. He wordlessly drew Aang in a tight embrace and let his lifelong friend murmur all his fears into red silk and the empty air.

Zuko had his own confession after Aang trailed off. “I hate that they grow up. Izumi is fifteen. It should be impossible, but she is, and she wants to do all these adult things.” Izumi wanted to go on a domestic tour to see the people she would serve, wanted to go abroad to finish her education, wanted to start dating. “I know I said I’m trying to encourage her to find herself, but it’s never been easy.”

Aang agreed, and it seemed like they were coming to a consensus until Zuko added. “But, if I don’t let her go then I hurt her too.”

They pulled apart, Aang wiped underneath his eyes while Zuko did not comment on it.

“Was he really that happy when you saw him?” Aang questioned. He was taking Zuko’s words into consideration.

Zuko nodded. “He had his whole table hanging onto his every word as he retold the story of when you took him surfing down Omashu’s mail shoots.”

“What were his friends like?”

A grimace overtook Zuko’s face. Aang wasn’t going to like his answer. “Um…I didn’t really get to meet them. I may have scared them all off...you know Firelord stuff and all.”

Aang actually looked exasperated, hands on his head. “You scared off my son’s new friends!?”

“I thought we wanted Bumi home as fast as possible!” Zuko huffed and crossed his arms. “I took my fastest ship and the royal guard, so the cruiser knew I meant business! How else do you board a ship that’s technically not under your jurisdiction?”

“Send me a letter and let me take Appa?”                                            

“Okay well my way was just as fast. Also, you have no jurisdiction either.” Zuko countered, feeling like an argumentative teenager again.

There was a sound in the unruly bushes that framed the garden. They fell silent, turning towards the noise’s source. Zuko already inching his hands up, was ready for an attack when Bumi tumbled out, excitement coloring his movement.

Standing up and dusting himself off, he exclaimed, “Dad, you wouldn’t be annoyed with Uncle Zuko scaring all my new friends away if you weren’t going to let me go back!” He wore the same crooked smile Aang has.

Aang didn’t answer him opting to hug his son and whisper how much he loved him. Zuko looked to the sky in an attempt to give the father and son privacy and tried not to miss Izumi to the point of hurting.

He looked back at them once he heard Aang asking Bumi why he wasn’t in his bedroom, asleep. Bumi, after being reminded about how much stress he caused his mother, made his way to the island’s temple complex. There was a spring in his step that could not be concealed.

“Are you thinking about—” Zuko started, eyes wide in curiosity.

Aang waved him off. “I’ll talk with Katara.”

+1 Wish

Caldera was sunny and bright when Aang came to visit. The palace had a revolving door policy for Zuko’s family, and no fuss was made when Aang arrived in a palace’s courtyard one midmorning. The palace staff assumed Zuko already knew.

Usually, Aang wrote to him prolifically…there was no mention of a visit in the most recent letter, so when Zuko found them, he initially worried about worst case scenarios, but nothing about Aang from afar indicated something was wrong.  

Zuko decided to focus on being happy about the surprise visit. When was the last time he was pleasantly surprised? Usually, surprises were the sudden, terrible kind, but it had been months since they saw each other last. Zuko wanted to enjoy this.

“Hey! No letter? Did you run out of paper from responding to all your fan mail?” Zuko called out.

Aang gave an exaggerated shrug. “I sent a telegraph! Maybe if you got with the times, you’d know I was coming.” It was true that Zuko was very much starting to feel old in his job. Izumi had to explain multiple times what a telegraph was, how it worked, and how it was going to be used in the palace.

Zuko just wanted to go back to the old system of hawks and letters. Personal correspondence could be delivered to his study’s window if it were by hawk!

“You did?” Zuko asked. He should have a word with who was filtering his mail.

“Nope!”

He was still so easy to tease even after fifty years. He resolved to at least have Izumi teach him how to send one when she returned from her fourth domestic tour. That would show him.

“I’m going to have those banned,” Zuko warned. Aang paid the empty threat no mind.

“I was thinking we take a trip, just the two of us like the good old days,” Aang said in the lull. Zuko thought he sounds somber for a moment before Aang pitched his tone up. “We can go see a play, visit Ember Island…oh! Do you know if that seniors’ volleyball league is accepting walk-ins?”

“I am not joining a seniors’ volleyball league,” Zuko cringed, folding his arms. He didn’t consider himself that old. He certainly didn’t feel that old despite his grey hair, creaky joints, and having grandchildren.

“Come on! Nobody will know that it was us who joined a seniors’ group! I won’t tell Sokka.” Aang chided, and before Zuko knew it he’s on Ember Island carrying two cups of ice cream while wearing a ridiculous eye patch with “I ♡ Ember Island” stitched on. Zuko is 99% sure it was once Sokka’s.

He set the ice cream down in front of Aang who made a small frown and pushed it away. “I’m not feeling sweets today. I’m sorry, I thought you were just getting yourself some.”

Zuko filed that away as odd but moved on. They were older. Maybe he should cut back on the sweets too if Aang of all people was already doing it. There was nothing else out of the ordinary if perhaps save that Aang was chattier than usual, asking him everything about Mai, Izumi, and Iroh to what the latest gossip was— really anything to keep Zuko talking.

Zuko detailed which of the servants got engaged last week, the work Izumi was doing on her latest book, and how it was his turn to worry about a family member joining the United Forces before they moved on to, yes, the seniors’ volleyball league on the beach.

Zuko was relieved they weren’t identified, and Aang found it funny to address him as “Sifu Server” whenever he served the ball. The Firelord discovered he was actually having fun at seniors’ volleyball too until he realized Aang was on the timeout benches, not at his side.

After the next point, Zuko requested to be substituted out and took a seat with Aang who gave him a weary smile.

“Timeout?” Zuko put more force than he meant to into the question. Aang kept looking at the game.

“Yeah, I was getting tired, so I thought you should have the spotlight.”

“…Thanks?” Zuko responded, very confused. Aang was the most energetic of all of them. Even if that were not true, he was the Avatar…they could live to be over two-hundred years old. Mobility problems, back pain, forgetfulness—anything that was coming for him shouldn’t be already happening to his friend.

The match concluded with Aang and Zuko making surface level comments on the game.

“Ready for the next one?”

Aang shook his head. “You can go for it, but I was going to go back to the house before dinner and the show,” he replied. Zuko assured him that he of all people was completely fine with vacating seniors’ volleyball.

Zuko had time to think on their rather slow walk back to the same beach house they used during the war. Aang wasn’t feeling up to Zuko’s joking suggestion that he get servants to dust off the palanquins from storage, so it was quiet too.

He was having fun, don’t get Zuko wrong, but Aang seemed exhausted. Maybe his surprise visit was another bad surprise—he stopped that line of thinking and forced it to the back of his mind. He had told himself he was going to enjoy this, but something felt…

When Aang laid down for an afternoon nap in his hammock, Zuko found no rest in his. 

What officially set off the alarm bells for Zuko was Aang dozing off during the third act of an Ember Island Player’s production that evening.

Zuko had always understood the importance of observing people.

When Zuko was young, he’d follow his father’s form across the room learning everything about the man’s behavior. If Ozai’s eyes darted across the room, Zuko knew to make himself small. If Ozai was busy with scrolls and ink, Zuko mirrored him, hoping to look the part of industrious son. Rarely, If Ozai seemed happy with a mellow smile across his cruel face, Zuko would venture to speak to him.

When Zuko watched Aang shun food with a nervous smile, exhausted himself in a game of volleyball, and dozed off night and day, he knew something was wrong. No words were needed for the idea to sank in the back of his throat with a harsh finality.

“Come on, let’s go back to the house,” Zuko grumbled after the show ended. He was sick of this theater, sick of his stupid disguise, and sick of dragging his ailing friend around to soothe some anxious part of himself that always ended up being right. Aang quietly followed him, keeping the pace far slower than what both were used to.

As soon as they were over the threshold, Zuko couldn’t hold it any longer. “What’s wrong with you? Do I need to call a doctor? Does Katara know?” It’s a too loud mixture of worry, shame, and anger all at once, yet Aang has grown used to him after all these years. He didn’t look offended.

Still, regret made home with the bad feeling lodged in his throat.

 “I’m sorry, I’m…” There’s a pause, a heavy one that stood between them for a moment too long.  “…not as young as I used to be,” the airbender said. “Katara says I’m slowing down, and maybe I shouldn’t have made that long bison ride and done Ember Island on the same day.”

“Really?”

Aang sighed. “Yeah, really. I’m not twelve anymore.”

Zuko was going to respond with more doubt or even be petty and correct Aang by reminding him that he wasn’t a hundred and twelve anymore, but all manner of responses died down on his tongue.

He would have pressed further if he were younger. When he was on the Wani he’d stomp around, demanding to read all of Uncle Iroh’s letters for any scrap of news—good or bad—from the palace. He could handle bad news back then. It was something he could fight.

Zuko, in his old age, couldn’t stomach bad news like he used to. Bad news was permanent news at his age, and, at a subconscious level, he knew if he pressed Aang further, he might hear something he didn’t want to be true—something bad, something permanent, something Zuko would be powerless to try and fix.

So, swallowing his syllables, Zuko relented, and Aang looked relieved.

That night Zuko didn’t sleep well. One train of thought persisted.

Avatar Kyoshi lived to 230, but she was an outlier.

Aang was “slowing down” at sixty-six.

Did the years in the ice count?

Zuko received his answer when it was all too late on a bright and sunny day in Caldera only a month later. Aang wasn’t slowing down, he was dying. The Firelord burned Katara’s letter and stomped its ashes into the carpet, staining it forever.

Zuko, Mai, and Izumi made it to the Southern Air Temple before Aang passed.

Aang declined quickly surrounded by his family. It wasn’t the place for Zuko to bring up their last Ember Island ‘vacation,’ to question why Aang lied to him, to demand answers. In the end, they nestled Aang up high in the southern cliffs, his body, empty of spirit, left to the winds he loved.

There were five separate official state funerals. Zuko presided over one and attended the rest. He wasn’t expected to. Izumi and Mai didn’t understand why he did it, and Zuko was too ashamed to answer. It was his meager penance for his cowardice. If only he pushed Aang for the truth, then what could have been?

He was Firelord, the leader of millions at his beck and call. He could have summoned the best physicians, poured endless gold into research, and worked the universities around the clock. All the power in the world wasted.

“Did he have a final vacation with you too?” Toph asked him at the Earth Kingdom funeral in Ba Sing Se. They were tucked into an empty hallway’s alcove, trying to shield themselves from well-wishers who never knew any of them.

Zuko didn’t need to respond with words for Toph to feel his answer pulse from the earthen tiles.  

Toph sighed. “I knew he was lying when he told me he was slowing down. I assume he told you the same thing?”

“Yes.” The word grated on his teeth until he released it. Zuko cannot fathom why Toph let Aang get away with it, but he had no right to judge her. He was no better. He may not be a lie detector, but Zuko’s sense for things going wrong had always been sharp; since Aang’s death, Zuko had been questioning himself, evaluating his cowardice, and turning over what could have been.

“You were going to put the whole Fire Nation to work if he was honest, weren’t you?”

“Is this an interrogation, Chief Beifong?” he snaped. “As Firelord, what other course of action would there be?”

Would it have been enough? a small voice in the recesses of his mind questioned him. Can the office of Firelord dictate fate? Zuko was helpless when Lu Ten died, when mother disappeared, when father reforged his face in fire. Firelord Zuko, Agni’s Chosen, famed war hero, and one of the most powerful, influential men in the world, rendered a child once more by a lie he was too fearful to investigate.

“He didn’t want the Firelord, he wanted you.”

“But as Firelord I could have prevented this!” the words fumbled out of his mouth. “…why didn’t he want to stay?” he finally voiced the heaviest question out loud.

Toph clasped his hands, and it’s the first time she held them like they would shatter. “Katara is the best healer in the world, and Aang knew it. If she couldn’t save him, you and the Fire Nation couldn’t either.”

“But I knew something was wrong. I knew it, like you did.” He leveled. She is like a pillar of earth, unfazed by his shameful cowardice laid bare.

“I didn’t do anything because he came to me seeking Toph, his friend who lived in the swamp. He didn’t want the former metalbending police chief of Republic City.” Her hushed words washed over him. He held onto each one. “It was over, Zuko, before he came to spend time with us. It’s not that he didn’t want to stay. It’s that he couldn’t, but he chose to spend his remaining time with the people he loved the most.”

Tears stung Zuko’s eyes, and he could not blink them away fast enough anymore.

“In his last days, you gave Aang what he wanted. You dropped everything for a week at Ember Island with him.” Toph had tears falling down her face too, and words were too far away from him. All Zuko could do was pull one hand free and blot each of her teardrops onto his sleeve.

Toph still cradled one of his hands and after her face was dry, she grabbed his free hand, the trembling one wearing a tearstained sleeve as armor. The earthbender rooted Zuko to the earth with a firm squeeze. “You’re not a coward for giving Aang his dying wish. He couldn’t stay, but he stayed long enough to say goodbye.”

And how like Aang it was to be dying and put his remaining energy into saying goodbye for both his and his family’s sakes. How like Zuko it was to ignore the warning signs just because Aang all but asked him to let it go.

Aang in his final month wanted to see bad plays, play seniors’ volleyball, and lounge out on porch decks with, not the Firelord who helped end the Hundred Year War, but with him. His friend, Zuko, who could criticize the Ember Island Players to the finest detail, who learned volleyball from his little sister and taught him, and who frequently had the front deck of his Ember Island home remodeled because he could never decide on a final look.

There wasn’t a world where Zuko would have denied Aang this, he realized. There wasn’t a world where he pressed Aang for the full truth. Toph was right. It was too late, and he had known, deep down.

Later that night, still in the tempest of grief’s sharp pains and bitter regret, Zuko climbed to the highest spire of the Earth Queen’s palace. On Aang’s favorite balcony, the one where you could see Ba Sing Se’s roofs glitter like the stars above, he laid out incense and one of Aang’s gifts to him, a simple, smooth rock from the palace gardens.

It was the same rock Aang tried to juggle as a joke a lifetime ago. On the back, Aang had carved simple figures and directional arrows into the stone: it was a crude tutorial on how to juggle.

He wiped his face and lit the incense. The perfumed smoke wafted to the skies, and Zuko prayed it carried his whispered words of thank you and of goodbye along with it.

The night burned on, and the winds sang their ancient song, never letting Zuko feel alone.