Chapter Text
What Zuko knows and what Zuko believes are usually two different things.
For example, Zuko knows that the Avatar is a capable warrior and a fearsome master of four elements. He knows that the Avatar will almost certainly defeat the Firelord and restore balance to the world.
He also knows the Avatar is a child, and he knows what his father can do to children.
So while he knows Aang will be returning victorious any minute now, he doesn't believe it until he hears someone cry, "It's the Avatar!" followed by a stampede of people as they rush out to the courtyard. Zuko, unable to rise from his chair without help, gets left behind.
"You!" he snaps at the nearest passer-by, who happens to be one of the kitchen staff, "Help me up. I need to get out to the courtyard."
The servant flinches and Zuko immediately feels bad, but his need to see Aang overrides it for the time being. "Y-Yes, of course. Right away, Your Highness."
It's a slow process, trying to stand, and the servant winces every time Zuko grunts in pain, like he's afraid Zuko will chargrill him. Walking is slower still. The servant is afraid of him, and cringes whenever he has to bear Zuko's weight, seemingly caught between fleeing and following the orders he's been given. Zuko, in turn, tries his best to not lean on him too much, but his body will only cooperate within its limits. At one point, the servant steps on his foot and hyperventilates with the force of his apologies.
"Relax," sighs Zuko. "It was an accident. It's alright." His words don't seem to soothe the servant at all, so Zuko gestures towards a wooden bench right beside the massive door and sinks down onto it. He bites his lip to keep from groaning, lest the servant pass out. "Dismissed," he says wearily.
The servant dashes away. At the other end of the courtyard he can see Aang atop Appa, surrounded by a heaving throng of red. It makes his heart stumble for a second before he remembers that Aang isn't surrounded by the enemy, and that he can take care of himself. While he's being mobbed by his adoring fans, Zuko resigns himself to checking over every bit of exposed skin he can see for new injuries. He relaxes slightly when he finds none.
Eventually, Aang spots him and his entire face lights up with delight and relief. "Zuko!" he cries, loud enough for him to hear clear across the courtyard. Aang closes the distance between them frighteningly fast, but Zuko doesn't care, not even when the airbender barrels into him hard enough to knock all the wind from his lungs and jostle his wound painfully. "You're alright!"
"I could say the same to you," Zuko wheezes once he gets his breath back. Aang realizes he's crushing him and tries to wriggle away, and Zuko stubbornly grips him tighter. Tomorrow, he can go back to being all growly and pretending he doesn't like hugs; today, he's too relieved and too tired to keep up pretenses.
Behind them, the Avatar's fan club is beginning to catch up, the sound of their shouting and footsteps loud on the cobblestones. Zuko pulls away enough to jerk his head meaningfully in their direction and ask, "Think you can lose the groupies?"
Aang grins wickedly. "Can I ever. Hang on, Sifu!" And then Aang is scooping him up and launching them both out of the courtyard with his earthbending. Zuko yelps and clutches Aang's shoulders on instinct. Surprisingly, his chest doesn't hurt for once.
"Put me down!" he splutters. "Aang! Stop it!"
"What?" Aang yells. "I can't hear you over the wind!" His face is pinched in concentration, revealing that this at least somewhat taxing for him. It makes Zuko feel a little better about being carried bridal style by the twelve year old Avatar. With a grunt and another gust of wind, Aang propels them up on one of the palace roofs, landing gracefully on a gold-encrusted perch.
Zuko clambers out of his arms, unbalancing them both and falling flat on the ground. That hurts. He coughs weakly as the wind is knocked out of him again. Aang panics and shoves air back into his lungs. It's such an alien feeling that Zuko promptly freaks out and spends several moments dry heaving and hyperventilating until he realizes that he can actually breathe.
"Monkeyfeathers! I'm so sorry, Zuko! Spirits, I shouldn't have done that, of course you're not used to it! Katara's gonna be so mad at me. Sorry, sorry, sorry, are you alright?" He's working himself up into a fine lather, alternating between pacing worriedly and crouching down next to Zuko and rubbing his back.
"'M fine," Zuko coughs. "Just surprised me, that's all." The other boy wrings his hands mournfully. Zuko is starting to get a crick in his neck from looking up at him, and tells him as much. Aang yelps and plops himself down next him, reattaching himself to Zuko's side. "Nice spot."
"I saw it when I was flying in," Aang agrees. The tall, curvy prongs that adorn the majority of Fire Nation buildings create a sort of nest for them to sit in, legs dangling over the edge. Even if they were to fall, the next 'layer' of roof isn't far below. "Sorry I took so long."
"Suki said you had Avatar duties."
"Yeah, there's was a whole thing with figuring out what to do with Fi— with Ozai." He picks at the skin araound his thumb and Zuko gently bats his hands away. "Everyone was so angry. A lot of them wanted me to kill him, others wanted me to hand him over to them." Aang sighs a heavy sigh, far too heavy for an airbender. "I didn't know what to do."
"What did you do?"
"In the end, Uncle Iroh stepped in and said that he should be taken back to the Fire Nation to face justice. They're keeping him in the Caldera prison." Zuko holds back a derisive scoff; as if his father could ever truly face justice for all the things he'd done.
"He's not your uncle," is what he says instead.
"Of course he is," says Aang. There'll be no convincing him otherwise, either.
Not that Zuko expected him to be chipper, exactly, but Aang is far gloomier than he's ever seen him and it sits heavy in his stomach. "Suki also told me that a giant lion turtle showed you how to take away his bending." He nods. Zuko tries not to shudder. Aang is his friend. He's a goofy kid that tugged on his arm and said Zuko, I want you to dance with me! and airbent marbles for Momo to chase and suggested gluebending to take down the world's greatest threat in a hundred years. He can also apparently reach inside you and rip your bending out. "What did it feel like?"
Aang doesn't reply right away, trying to find the right words. Zuko leaves him to it, content to watch the clouds drift past. Eventually, Aang says, "Like you're holding a star in your chest. It's so hot and so bright and you feel like you're going to explode." He doesn't sound triumphant or even pleased, and folds tighter into Zuko's side. "But the star doesn't want to leave its host. If I had more time, or if I was stronger, maybe it wouldn't have been so... so violent. I don't know." He sounds ashamed, like he's upset that he couldn't do better by a genocidal maniac. "But I reached into his soul and pulled the star out of him. And then it was over."
They lapse into silence, Zuko trying and failing to imagine it. Aang shifts and his mouth opens and closes a couple of times. Then, he says, "I saw your Agni Kai."
Five words, spoken barely above a whisper, and Zuko's world tilts on its axis. A million thoughts clash in his head at the same time, tinged with shame, and anger, and embarrassment and so many other things he couldn't name if he tried. Lost in his own thoughts, he fails to notice Aang's own spiral beside him.
"I didn't want to! It just sort of happened! Energybending, it's weird. I saw all his memories, from when he was a kid like us up until now." He shakes his head. "No, that's not right. It's more like I was him. I didn't watch, I felt."
For a long time, and for no time at all, he was Ozai. He ran around the palace courtyard, chasing Iroh with a stick and laughing when he fell over. He snuck young coconut cakes- his favorite -into the sleeves of his robes and ate them in secret as he read by candlelight, far past his bedtime. He clattered through the old house on Ember Island and shrieked when Iroh flicked sea water at him on the beach. He grinned, covered in sweat, as he and Zhao competed to see who could make the biggest flame and slung a cheerful arm around the other boy's shoulders when he won.
He felt the incredible love he had for his brother turn dark and bitter in the face of Azulon's favoritism as the years went by. He felt the sweat running down his back after hours of firebending training, pushing himself to one day outpace his brother. He felt the fierce possessiveness and desire when he first looked upon Ursa in her village, and the pride at his ownership on their wedding day. He felt the brief flash of pure joy and delight as he held a newborn Zuko in his arms, only to be replaced with utter disgust at the lack of a spark in his eyes. He'd felt the same in reverse at Azula's birth.
"It scared me," he admits, equally oblivious to Zuko's own plight. His mouth seems to be running by itself. "Even though I know how horrible he is, everything was justified in his head, and I started to believe it, too." As long as he lives, he will never be able to forget the feeling of cradling a weeping Zuko's face in his hand right before setting it on fire. Worse than the screams and the flesh melting beneath his fingers had been the grim satisfaction at a lesson well-taught, and his revulsion at the boy's snivelling weakness. Aang shakes his head hard to clear the memory, without much result. Zuko's face is ashen, unable to focus beyond his own heartbeat ringing in his ears.
"What— What was he thinking?" It's so quiet, Aang thinks he's imagined it at first. Zuko clenches a fist in his robes. "You felt what he felt when he…" He trails off and holds one hand out in front of him. "Did he want to?"
Aang desperately wishes Monk Gyatso were still here. He would know just what to say to help his friend and give him closure. He himself has only been a monk for so long. "He wasn't happy about it, exactly," he says, hesitantly. "He felt sort of cold. Like it was something he had to do." Aang Ozai had been largely indifferent to the act itself. There was frustration at his friend's son's insolence, and irratation that he was losing a potentially valuable asset, but nothing that even resembled remorse or horror. That had been all Aang.
He doesn't talk about the smell of cooking, then burning, flesh sticking to his hair long afterwards. He certainly doesn't describe the experience of watching a third degree burn form on someone's face, nor does he want to think about the feeling of giving someone such a burn. He wants to forget the feeling of a small hand tenderly, hopefully, gripping his wrist. He'd prayed over and over for Zuko to just pass out from the pain already. Zuko had not, not until the very end. When he'd been unable to hold himself up any longer, Aang Ozai had grabbed a fistful of his hair to keep his head steady. Even remembering it makes him want to throw up.
Aang finally turns to see the devastation in Zuko's eyes and shrinks three sizes. "I'm sorry," he says, for what feels like the hundredth time. "I'm not getting this right, am I?"
Zuko is mature enough to know that there is no 'right' way to have this conversation. "I'm sorry, too. You shouldn't have had to see that."
"Why didn't you tell me?" It's up and out of his mouth before he can swallow it. He feels Zuko flinch beside him and resists the urge to repeatedly bang his forehead against the nearest hard surface. "No, you don't have to answer that. I just wanted to make sure you were okay and I'm screwing it all up!"
If he had hair, he'd be tugging on it. Zuko can't even be angry. Sometimes, Aang's idealistic pacifist approach to things gets on his nerves, but he can see how hard the kid is trying. Aang feels things so deeply; it's one of his greatest strengths and biggest flaws, and Zuko is fairly sure he's agonizing over not being able to do anything to protect that scared, kneeling, child.
Coming from anyone else, Zuko would have metaphorically (and perhaps literally) bitten their head off and told them to jump into a volcano, but this is Aang. Aang, who offers him friendship at every turn. Aang, who sees all the ugly parts of himself and still welcomes him with open arms. Aang, who sees all the colors of dragon fire and remains at his side as he stands amongst flames that, for the first time, are not trying to burn him. Aang, who understands that both Zuko and fire are more than destruction.
Aang, who loves him, not just because he's the Avatar and loves everyone, but because he's decided that Zuko is worth loving.
To hell with trying to find the right words, things can't get any more awkward. Zuko leans back on his palms and tilts his chin up to watch Agni trace her gleaming path across the sky. "Partly because there wasn't ever a great time to bring it up," he says at last. Aang makes a disbelieving noise and Zuko raises an eyebrow. "Oh, yeah? How would you have done it? Hello, Zuko here. By the way, the reason I've been chasing you for the past year is because my father barbecued half my face and said I couldn't come home until I found the Avatar."
It's so terribly unfunny. The Avatar in question wilts again. "I wish I'd known back then," he murmurs sadly. "I should've done something."
Zuko shakes his head. "You did everything you could. You saved my life so many times, even when you didn't have to."
"If I'd just gone with you from the start, you could've gone home!"
"I did go home," Zuko reminds him gently. "After Ba Sing Se. I had everything I thought I wanted, and look where I ended up. The only thing that would've happened is you would've been imprisoned or dead, and the Fire Nation would have won the war."
Aang growls in frustation. "But it's not fair!" His anger evaporates into sadness in the blink of an eye. His voice cracks when he says again, "It's not fair."
"I know," says Zuko, and lets himself sit with it for once. It was cruel and it was wrong! He can accept that now. The fact that he hadn't deserved everything that came after is a little harder to reconcile.
A gentle breeze ruffles his hair. Aang is sitting with his knees tucked up to his chest and his arms folded on top of them, cushioning his cheek. "You said partly. What was the other reason?"
"You noticed that, huh?" Zuko says, with a wry twist to his mouth. His feet swing where they're dangling over the ledge. "I guess the other part of it was that I didn't want you to think I was trying change your mind." Off Aang's puzzled look, he sighs. "About killing him."
"Oh," says Aang, because the long and short of it is that it wouldn't have made a difference. Of course, he would've been livid. Indeed, after the memory of the Agni faded into the next one, he'd been so angry that Ozai had very nearly bested him in their final battle of wills, and the rage had lasted long enough that Aang could have still reached the Avatar state even after taking his bending away. But he couldn't have killed him, not even for Zuko, and the fact that he couldn't would have been another bleeding mark among the endless lashes of guilt already striping his shoulders. Then, Zuko's words hit him. Zuko had come to the same conclusion a long time ago, had done the calculations already, and chose to spare him the burden of knowing. Not for the first time, Aang marvels at his capacity for kindness, despite everything. A question springs to the tip of his tongue, but this time, he bites it back before it can escape. Unfortunately, Zuko is freakishly perceptive.
"What?" Aang mimes zipping his lips. "What is it?"
"It's nothing! Don't worry about it!"
"I'm going to need you to think about who you just said that to and try again."
Touche. He rubs the back of his neck. "Fine. Just don't hate me."
Zuko's voice gets way too serious for two kids loitering on a palace roof. "I could never hate you." Aang knows he isn't joking. They'll have to unpack that later. In the meantime, he grapples with wanting to protect his friend's peace, and needing to know—
"Do you think I should have killed him?"
Sweet Agni. Zuko chokes on his next inhale. Aang points at him. "Aha! I knew it! I knew I shouldn't have asked!"
He attempts a glare. It comes out a scowl at best. "Do your knees ever get sore from jumping to conclusions?" he grumbles. The breeze picks up again, blowing the loose fabric of his robes this way and that. In all honesty, the more he thinks, the less sure he is. He hates his father. He loves his father. He never wants to see him again. He'll be visiting Ozai's cell not long after his coronation. He despises the way he and Azula were pitted against each other as children. He's thankful his father loved Azula enough not to burn her. The thought of Ozai's hand makes his skin crawl and itch. He misses the warmth of it on his shoulder, like when the four of them had sat for their family portrait. He doesn't care what his father thinks of him. He wants his father not to hate him.
Before he can open his mouth and say something stupid for the sake of filling the silence, Aang reaches out and squeezes his bicep. "Don't answer that," he says. By now, Aang is pretty attuned to the way Zuko will put aside his own feelings if he thinks it means helping. He's not sure if it's a form of self punishment— like Zuko believes it's something he owes them, or if that's just how he is. That being said, Aang has a particular way of saying things and meaning them and with him, Zuko learns to let go. "Really, let's forget about it. It was a stupid question, anyway." I'm sorry.
Zuko smiles. "Thank you." I forgive you. "Energybending is pretty cool, though."
It's all the answer he needs. Aang smiles.
The sun is starting to set, washing the world in red and gold. Aang watches Zuko turn towards it, closing his eyes and letting the light spill over him. There's a beautiful sort of peace that overtakes him, the kind that reminds Aang why he keeps doing his job as the Avatar. The white of his bandages seem to glow beneath his robe, catching his attention.
"Azula?" he asks, pointing. Zuko looks down and sighs.
"Yeah, she got me pretty good." He pats his chest a little self consciously. Aang twists to show him his back, and tugs his clothing out of the way to show off his own lightning scar.
"But look, we match now," says Aang proudly, startling a laugh out of Zuko. "It'll take more than a little lightning to bring us down." He holds out his fist and, after a moment of confusion, Zuko bumps his own against it. "I saw you, by the way, on the day of the Black Sun. That might be the bravest thing I've ever seen." Even the echoes of Ozai's feeling couldn't drown out Aang's pride and delight.
Like he always does with compliments, Zuko blushes and shrugs it off, mumbling under his breath about it not being a big deal, really. "I mean it!" he insists. "To stand up to him like that, it's a huge deal! Your uncle would've been so proud of you if he'd seen it."
"Yeah, if he didn't have a heart attack first."
"Could you blame him?" Zuko snorts, conceeding the point. "You saved my life too, you know? By teaching me to redirect lightning. I would've been toast if it wasn't for you." Zuko closes his eyes briefly, as if in pain. He knew Ozai would have tried it, but he'd hoped... Whatever, he's done thinking about his father. At least, for now. "Anyway, I guess that makes us even now."
"Even?" demands Zuko, aghast. "How could we ever possibly be even? After everything-"
"After everything, you still don't believe that I forgive you?" Aang cuts right across him, stern and serious. He doesn't sound like that goofy kid anymore and it shuts Zuko up fast. "That we've all forgiven you?"
"I believe that you believe you have, but sooner or later you're going to realise that I'm not good. Not like the rest of you."
"Don't tell me what I believe," Aang snaps.
As he is with everything else, Zuko is relentless in his self recrimination. "My family wiped out your entire people! I don't even know how you can stand to look at me."
"If you want to torture yourself for the sins of your forefathers, then be my guest, but I'm not going to do it for you." He says it so severely that Zuko looks like he's been slapped. Aang takes a deep breath and gentles himself, once again closing the distance that the other boy has put between them. He's looking down at his hands in his lap, so Aang takes one of them in his own and starts to rub small circles into the back of it, like he's seen Toph do. "None of us will."
Zuko is quiet for a long time. "I just don't understand," he says, brittle as glass.
"I think I do," says Aang, and finally feels his chest loosen. "We've all forgiven you, but you haven't forgiven yourself." Judging by Zuko's flinch, he's right on the money. "That's okay, it doesn't have to be today, or even tomorrow, but you'll have to if you ever want to move on from this." He squeezes the hand in his own. "You have to forgive yourself, Zuko. It starts with you." His friend doesn't say anything, but he does squeeze his hand back. "I'll help you, if you want."
That gets Zuko to look at him, his good eye wide and tentatively hopeful, like he hadn't considered that was an option. "You will?"
"Of course, you don't have to do this alone." He gets that confused expression on his face that makes Aang ache. It's the same one he makes whenever he's shown a bare modicum of kindness.
Zuko's voice cracks when he asks, "How?"
Aang's easy grin is back now that they're firmly in his territory. "I learned a lot from Guru Pathik. First, how do you feel about banana and onion juice?" He laughs at Zuko's grimace. "Alright, pass on that for now. The important things are your chakras." He gets to his feet and motions for Zuko to stand. "Seven in total. Earth, at the base of your spine. Water, at your sacrum. Fire, in your stomach. Air, in your heart. Sound, at your throat, and light at your forehead." As he lists them, he brushes his fingers over each of the spots on Zuko's body. "Each of them deals with a different emotion, and is blocked by its counterpart."
Zuko nods along readily. Out of all of his friends, Zuko is probably the most spiritual, aside from himself. Despite having been to the spirit world and being literal best friends with the Avatar, Sokka is still somewhat of a skeptic and Toph is just as irreverent about it as she is about everything. Katara respects the spirits and acknowledges where her powers come from, but she doesn't worship the moon the way that Zuko rises to greet Agni every morning and offers prayers and candles at sunset. "We'll start small, alright? Close your eyes, settle your breathing."
He does as he's told, a little crease of concentration between his eyes. Aang looks over his stance with a small smile. He stands like a earthbender, he thinks. He takes both of Zuko's hands in his and for a moment, they just breathe. Maybe he's imagining it, but he swears he can feel Zuko's inner flame rise and fall with each breath. "Good. Think about what's causing you pain. Don't speak-" he says, as Zuko opens his mouth. "Just think about it. Feel it. I know it's uncomfortable and I know it's scary, but I'm right here, Zuko. I won't let you go." His friend worries his bottom lip between his teeth, faced pinched. "Now, if you can, tell me what those emotions are."
The ugly memories of his uglier past are not merciful. His legs threaten to buckle under the weight of them, so he focuses on the steady pressure of Aang's hands. "Shame," he croaks. Shame coils around his lungs like a rat-viper and squeezes the breath from him. "Guilt and grief." So much guilt he could drown in it. Grief strong enough to bury him. "Fear." Fear that he's not enough, that he'll never be enough. Fear that his friends will come to their senses and leave. He chokes on his next breath in, grounded only by Aang squeezing his hands again.
"That's good," he says softly. "Good job. Open your eyes now." He does, blinking in the golden sunlight. Inexplicably, Aang looks proud of him. "Shame blocks your fire chakra, the same way guilt and grief block your water and air chakras."
"And the fear?"
"Your earth chakra. That one deals with survival. We'll work on them, one by one."
Zuko shakes his head in amazement. "How do you know all of this?"
He looks a little sheepish. "Well, technically this is how you learn to unlock the Avatar state, but who's to say it won't work for you too?"
It's so matter-of-fact that Zuko wants to believe him. He can't fully, through no fault of Aang's, though the fact that he even wants to try is huge. The way he says it too, like it isn't a big deal. Hey, here's this super secret, centuries old technique for helping the Avatar reach their ultimate power, of course I'll teach you! He grabs the tentative trust he has in his friend and clings to it with both hands. To think he's standing on this rooftop now all because nine months ago, a boy asked him if they could've been friends.
He wants to fall to his knees and kiss Aang's hands and feet in worship, but he knows Aang hates that sort of thing and figures it might be weird to anyone who hadn't grown up in the Fire Nation, so he contents himself with pulling him in and wrapping him up in the tightest hug he can give. Aang oofs in astonishment and hugs him right back. "Thank you," he whispers. He doesn't have to say what for.
"Anytime," Aang whispers back. He glances down at the circle of Zuko's arms around him and beams. "Oh, hey! You've finally captured the Avatar!"
There is nothing in the world that could have stopped Zuko from leaning down and pecking Aang on his little bald head. He immediately turns a brillaint shade of red as he realizes what he's done, though Aang just laughs in delight and does a happy little wiggle. Neither of them want to move, and so they stand together like that, watching the sun go down over the Fire Nation and chatting quietly about the world they'll rebuild together.