Chapter Text
What makes a true bird?
Wings, wind, flight or the spirit
that soars way up high?
Zuko peered through the telescope only seeing endless rolling blue waves. He was convinced that his new acquisition was the key to finding the Avatar. So what if it cost as much as a month’s worth of food for the crew as Lieutenant Jee pointed out rather insolently? They could live on plain rice and noodles for a month if it meant catching the Avatar earlier. Then they could just all go home and eat what they wanted.
It was kind of boring manning the telescope, but everything on this blasted ship was dull and it was up to Zuko to show these snail-sloths the meaning of dedication, discipline and hard work. So even if his eyes were watering from the glare of the sun and his back was hurting from his awkward hunched-over position, Zuko kept staring through the lense doggedly.
Water. Sky. Fluffy clouds. More water. More sky. More fluff… Wait... He almost forgot to breathe when he spotted a black shadow moving against the blue background. It did not look like a bird; he was sure of that. And by his calculation - and he was definitely getting the hang of navigation - the shadow appeared exactly in the direction of the Northern Air Temple where they were headed.
Suddenly, the shadow was gone. Zuko wasn’t sure if he really saw it or if it was just his imagination playing tricks on him. He looked around the deck and spotted a bald man in a grease-spotted uniform working on repairing one of the hatches. Yoshi or Moshi or something like that. Iroh pestered Zuko endlessly with the importance of learning the names of each crew member, but he wasn’t planning on getting to know to these people. He was planning on going home as soon as possible.
“Hey, you!” he bellowed at the man, paying attention that his voice was as deep as possible. The sailor looked around with uncertainty, trying to see who Zuko could have been addressing. When he realized that he was the only person on deck, he walked slowly over to the prince, standing at a safe distance from him as if he was a rabid polar-dog ready to bite. “Yes, Prince Zuko?”
Zuko swallowed. Maybe he should show interest in the man. “What’s your name?”
“Specialist Yori, Prince Zuko,” he mumbled.
So he wasn’t that far. “Specialist Yori, I order you to look through the telescope and tell me what you see.”
The man gave him an amused look but if he had doubts, he kept them to himself. Squinting, he peered through the lenses. “I see the ocean. And the sky.”
“Look harder…” Zuko snapped and watched tensely as Specialist Yori looked again. There was a long pause, silence and sharp breath.
“Well, I’ll be damned…” he said incredulously.
Zuko exhaled with relief. His eyes weren’t playing tricks on him. He really was going to go home.
-0-
“Unbelievable…” muttered Iroh as he took in the sight of the circling contraptions. From a distance, they certainly looked like airbender gliders that he had only seen in textbook illustrations. But it couldn’t be. Everyone knew that all the airbenders were gone.
Zuko’s eyes sparkled with excitement. “Uncle, you know what this means.” He was getting his hopes up, something that could only end in one way; bitter disappointment, with Iroh and the crew suffering the aftermath.
“No, I don’t know what it means and you don’t know what this means either,” he tried to caution the boy.
“We have to attack them.” Zuko put one arm on his hip and pointed with the other towards the temple. He looked about as threatening as a koala-sheep.
Iroh carefully swallowed the chuckle that was gathering in his throat. “And how do you plan to do that? Should I remind you that we have a small crew and air temples are notoriously hard to attack. That’s why Fire Lord Sozin waited until the comet.”
Zuko deflated immediately, looking less like a bossy koala-sheep and more like a young boy who had no business running a military mission. He looked at Iroh with uncertain eyes. “So what do you propose?”
Iroh pondered the question, sipping his tea pensively. He wanted to introduce the truth about the world beyond the Fire Nation to Zuko slowly, gradually. But it looked like Destiny (the fickle bitch she was, Iroh added in his mind somewhat uncharitably) decided on a crash course instead.
Maybe it was a learning opportunity. “We could go in disguise, Prince Zuko. Just the two of us.”
Zuko nodded his agreement.
-0-
The rough material of the drab, shapeless and not very clean-looking clothes that Zuko borrowed from his crew for the expedition were making his skin itch as he climbed with single-minded determination the narrow and steep path to the air temple. Iroh has fallen behind, huffing and puffing from the exertion.
Zuko looked up when he heard a beep, just above his head. It was a young boy of maybe ten years old in a strange flying contraption smiling and waving at him.
“You’re not an airbender.” Zuko couldn’t contain his disappointment.
The boy gave him a strange look. “No. I’m Teo. The airbenders died many years ago,” he said with a sad expression, like it was a bad thing.
“But how can you fly then?”
A proud smile appeared on the boy’s face. “My dad built this for me He’s really smart, my father, he can build all kinds of great stuff. He designed everything around here.” Teo gestured towards the temple, where white puffs of smoke appeared in the sky.
Zuko felt irritation at the boy’s boasting. So what if his dad could build stuff? Zuko’s dad owned this entire place, flying chairs and smoking chimneys included. After all, it was the Fire Nation who conquered the air temples at the price of life and blood of many brave soldiers.
“And who let you come here?” Zuko asked suspiciously.
The boy just shrugged. “We’ve been living here for a long time. You have to talk to my dad if you’d like to stay. He’s in charge.”
“What do…” Zuko snapped but before he could finish his thought, Iroh appeared behind him, panting heavily.
“We’d be honoured to meet your father,” Iroh smiled at Teo.
As it turned out, despite all the boasting, Teo’s father did not cut an impressive figure. He was a short, scrawny man in an apron, like a common tea-server, squinting and blinking behind his thick glasses.
“They call me the Mechanist here. We welcome refugees like you and your son…” he bowed towards Iroh.
Zuko took a step towards the man. “We are not…” refugees and he’s not my father.
Iroh interrupted again, before Zuko had a chance to finish. “My nephew and I are simply tired travellers who wanted to marvel at the architecture of this wondrous place. My nephew is a great enthusiast of ancient buildings.”
The Mechanist took off his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose, looking between Iroh and Zuko like he wasn’t quite buying this cover-story. Zuko couldn’t blame him. It was a really bad one. Clearly, Uncle was not great at improvisation.
“But surely we can offer you some tea,” the Mechanist noted.
An overjoyed smile appeared on Iroh’s face at the mention of his favourite beverage. “Tea indeed would be wonderful. Such a long climb makes me thirsty.”
“On the way down, you can just use the elevator we built,” Teo laughed.
“Well, while I make the pot ready, why don’t you show …” the Mechanist pointed at Zuko “our young guest around.”
Teo spun around in his chair and turning the wheels, he moved towards the temple. Now watching more closely, Zuko realized for the first time that the boy’s legs were weak and small. He couldn’t walk.
That didn’t seem to bother Teo though, who wheeled himself up the ramp at neckbreaking speed and kept chattering cheerfully, pointing out clever design details to Zuko.
“You see how the hot air powers everything?”
“And the chair?” Zuko asked.
“That too. My dad said if he couldn’t give me back my legs, at least he could give me wings.”
The obvious love in Teo’s voice pierced at Zuko’s heart. His hand went involuntarily to the scorched skin under his eye. This boy was broken, and still his father wanted him to have wings. What did Zuko’s father give him? ( A scar, that’s what, a treacherous voice inside Zuko hissed violently ). Zuko froze with fear. Thoughts like that were unacceptable. It was not Father’s fault that he was weak and brought shame to the family. He was given a just punishment and it was up to him to prove himself to be a loyal and worthy son. If he could only capture the Avatar, he would have his father’s love back.
Teo was luckily oblivious to Zuko’s inner storm. He parked his chair in front of a wall full of colourful paintings. “Look at these. The airbenders.” There was reverence in his voice as he looked at the drawings - monks in yellow and orange robes, flying and smiling as lazy sky bison looked on calmly, like big furry clouds. They didn’t look as bloodthirsty and violent like Zuko’s tutors at school made them out to be. Then again, owl-cats looked like cute creatures until their claws came out. It didn’t matter. Air-bender paintings were not going to give him any answers.
“But did you meet any real airbenders?” Zuko asked impatiently.
“No, they are all gone, unfortunately. They would have been amazing.”
Zuko stepped in front of Teo and crouched down. “But have you heard something about the Avatar?” he whispered. “He would be an airbender. A very old man.”
Teo shook his head. “Nobody has heard of the Avatar for many years. But some say that he will return to save the world one day. Why are you looking for him?”
“Only he can give me back something I lost. And only then can I go back to my father,” Zuko replied.
Teo looked at him with compassion. Zuko scowled. He was the fire prince. How dare a peasant in a wheel-chair feel pit for him? Teo just flashed a toothy smile at Zuko. “Hey, if you want to see something cool, I can show you dad’s newest ideas. There are some crazy things there.” And he took off.
Zuko wandered back to the main court where the tea-pot was already steaming.
“Good timing, Nephew. The tea is ready,” Iroh waved at him with a content expression. Of course, leave it to Uncle. All he cared about was his stupid tea.
Teo also appeared, his hands full of schematics and drawings that he proceeded to dump on the ground next to Zuko.
“Dad’s going to build a real bathhouse. I’m trying to talk him into a slide,” he laughed enthusiastically. The Mechanist gave him a fond smile and ruffled his hair gently.
Their easy rapport pierced through Zuko again as he tried to search his memory for a playful moment of his hair being ruffled like that by his father. But the hand always belonged to someone else. To mother, to Lu Ten, to Iroh. It was childish and ridiculous. So what if Ozai didn’t behave like some Earth Kingdom peasant? Zuko picked up one of the drawings at random and stared at the lines, but they didn’t mean anything to him. Iroh leaned closer to the design, humming and rubbing his chin in an annoying way.
“This looks familiar,” Iroh pointed to the sketch that looked like a caterpillar-snake, giving a shrewd look the Mechanist.
“It’s just a useless doodle,” the other man snatched the scroll quickly and squinted over his glasses at Iroh more suspiciously. “Where did you say you were travelling to?”
Iroh smiled back innocently. “As the saying goes, it’s the journey that matters, not the destination. Thank you for the tea. It was certainly one I’ve never tasted before.” That was code-word for Iroh disliking the drink. He stood up heavily and poked Zuko in the ribs. “Nephew, thank these people for their kindness.”
Zuko clamped his jaw tight. He didn’t like Iroh treating him like a child without manners. (Then you should stop behaving like a child without manners) Still, he had to play his role. He bowed stiffly to the Mechanist without saying a word.
“I hope you’ll find what you’re looking for,” Teo waved at him. “Safe travels.”
“You too. I mean you’re obviously not travelling. But… anyway.” Zuko stammered. Awkward. He quickly turned around and stepped into the elevator.
The Mechanist was right. The descent much shorter.
-0-
When Iroh entered the main cabin in search of a partner for a light game of pai sho before bedtime, he found Zuko with a paintbrush and a scroll, forming his symbols with great care.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m writing a report about our search. If Father knew about these people, he could help them,” Zuko replied without looking up.
“They seemed fine to me,” Iroh noted carefully.
“But they are not supposed to be there…” Zuko protested. “Don’t you think Father should know that? In any case, I run this search operation,” he added coldly looking very much like a young Ozai. A chill ran through Iroh’s veins.
“Of course, Prince Zuko. I’ll send for a hawk,” Iroh said pacifying, giving out instructions quietly.
When Zuko finished writing, he rolled up the scroll with great care and placed it in the little case tied to the bird’s left foot.
“I’m going to bed,” he said with a haunted look in his eyes. Iroh understood that look by now. It meant “don’t come close.”
“Good night, Prince Zuko. I’ll send off the bird personally.”
Iroh climbed up to the deck with the hawk. He stared into the dark sky, pondering what was the right thing to do. The moon and the stars looked back at him impassively. The only answer he ever got was silence. Which was preferable to the ghosts that whispered and screamed in his soul, demanding answers, begging for a meaning.
“I’d better take this,” Iroh said quietly, taking the scroll off of the leg of the bird. He held it in his hand for a moment. General Kichiro was making quite the career out of running whatever side-deal he had with these people, passing off the Mechanists inventions as his own ideas. He was a weasel. But Iroh did not have the slightest doubt that if Ozai knew about them, they would be worse off. Thinking of his brother, he felt almost uncontrollable anger rise in his chest. Iroh exhaled, the flame of his rage consuming the letter, keeping the secret of the Mechanist and his son safe, for now.
The messenger hawk blinked at Iroh in confusion. He rubbed the birds neck gently. “Go, be free, if you can.”
The bird didn’t move, only gave Iroh another long blink.
“You can’t, can you?” Iroh sighed. “None of us can.” Maybe together with the airbenders, the Fire Nation also killed freedom. Iroh took the bird and carried it back down to the belly of the ship, hooking the leather leash around its feet once more. The bird let out a sharp screech of relief.