Work Text:
His Uncle once promised Zuko that he wouldn’t harm him, and for the first time in three years, Zuko was willing to trade that promise. If it suggested even a shred of forgiveness, Zuko would kneel for a beating and say thank you when he was done. He would stay stationary and silent as the other side of his face melted off. Perhaps he had not deserved it the first time, but this time he would have.
Even if forgiveness didn’t follow such a beating, Zuko would understand. He had betrayed the only person who had ever treated him like he was more than the dirt on their heel, like he was something worthy of being cherished. Zuko would not forgive himself, if he were in Uncle’s shoes. Perhaps that was why he betrayed his uncle in the first place. Zuko was such a coward that he couldn’t even be loyal to the only person who had shown him loyalty in kind.
It wouldn’t matter anyway if Zuko would let him. His Uncle would never stoop so low as to hit a child, even one so deserving as his nephew. His Uncle wouldn’t break promises said to a terrified child, even if that child turned into a rat-viper. His honor was immutable.
Zuko knew his Uncle would not forgive him, and the hollow feeling inside threatened to swallow him whole.
Prior to arriving at the camp, Zuko tried to avoid thinking about his Uncle and what he surely thought about Zuko. There was no time for self pity and recriminations when Aang had to learn to firebend and the rest of his group needed information only Zuko could provide.
Standing outside his Uncle’s tent, it was all he could think about. How the pain of his imagined rejection would be but a small candle flame against the inferno that was Uncle’s orders to leave and not return. If he made it out of this war alive, Zuko would stop requesting Uncle Iroh’s forgiveness, something he didn’t deserve. He would make sure no harm fell on his Uncle. Uncle Iroh would make a good Fire Lord, and even if Zuko was banished again, he’d understand this time. It might make his mission more difficult, but it wouldn’t stop him from trying.
He still had a list of people to make apologies to that weren’t his Uncle, anyway, and then he could waste away. There was no use in keeping around traitors.
“Are you okay?” Katara’s voice broke his thoughts. He looked at her and only saw concern, and even if Zuko wasn’t a terrible liar, he couldn’t have said anything but the truth.
“No, I'm not okay.” She looked at him, expecting him to elaborate. He remembered how excited she was to see Chief Hakoda, the fierce hugs and gentle teasing that filled the Western Air Temple. She could not understand how severely he wronged his Uncle.
“My Uncle hates me, I know it. He loved me and supported me in every way he could.” He would be nothing more than a shaking husk, unable to bend, likely dead if not for his Uncle. “And I still turned against him. How can I even face him?” Never mind that he had tried facing him, tens of times in the palace. Before Zuko acknowledged out loud that he made a mistake. What had it seemed like to Uncle Iroh, to have a traitor visit night after night, trying to convince him that Ozai was right? To sit there silently as insults were thrown at him?
The silence that greeted him then would be matched by words to cement the rejection. He would not burden his Uncle after this meeting.
“Zuko, you're sorry for what you did, right?” she asked. How is that even a question? Aang was a passable, if missing, firebender, Zuko was wanted dead or alive. If he was fine with what he did, he would still be in the palace, trying to kill the Avatar.
“More sorry than I've been about anything in my entire life.” Zuko had a lot to be ashamed of. Imprisoning the girl in front of him, burning Toph, stealing Aang, over and over again. Threatening Sokka. Stealing from the Earth Kingdom peasants, repeatedly and without remorse.
None of those things filled him with regret like seeing the back of his Uncle’s shoulders for weeks, seeing his Uncle shackled and in custody of Azula, refusing to even look at Zuko.
“Then he'll forgive you. He will.” More than anything, this cemented his belief she could not understand. Zuko doesn’t know what type of family is more common, or if the Royal Family and the Water Tribe are diametrically opposed family types. He thought the Water Tribe had the better idea, but that was not the world he inhabited. Zuko will beg for forgiveness from his Uncle, and he will brace himself to not receive it. If he was lucky, he would be dismissed and Katara or Toph could ask for Uncle’s assistance, and he would fulfill his duty because that was what Uncle did.
Zuko shook his head before moving toward the tent that belongs to his Uncle. He remembered when he broke a teacup belonging to his Uncle, and the fear that filled him then. It was nothing compared to what he was feeling now. Before he knew to expect a beating, and he could handle that like he handled so many others. Now he didn’t know what exactly to expect. Zuko took a deep breath before opening the tent.
“Uncle—“ he must say his apologies before Uncle Iroh dismissed him. It was the only coherent thought in Zuko’s head. Even when they are not accepted, Uncle must know that he had not failed at raising Zuko from thirteen to sixteen. If Uncle were disappointed with himself for lacking as a Guardian, Zuko wouldn’t be able to bear it, when any failure belonged squarely on Zuko’s shoulders for not listening.
A snore loud enough to rouse the dead interrupted him. Immediately Zuko stopped; his Uncle did not deserve being roused from his rest by something so insignificant as Zuko.
He thought about turning and leaving, before deciding against it. If Zuko were not there when he awoke, someone might tell his Uncle that Zuko was here, and Zuko might be sent away before he can apologize.
Zuko quietly sat, grateful that he didn’t disturb his Uncle’s sleep. Perhaps his subconscious did not recognize the traitor in its midst? Zuko remembered Uncle Iroh waking from hawk-weasel shrieks in the distance; that Zuko didn’t disturb him was nothing short of a miracle.
Zuko realized he had little to offer as an apology. After “I’m sorry”, he drew a blank. Once his Mother made him apologize to Azula for damaging one of her toys. He had come up with an eloquent apology for the mere age of 8, and even Azula had seemed pleased with it. Twice that age now, he couldn’t think of anything to say that adequately expressed his regret.
It will probably be better the shorter it is anyway. The shorter it was, the less mad his Uncle would be when he dismissed him. Zuko resolved not to cry. There was no need for manipulation here, and Zuko was no longer a child who didn’t understand that actions had consequences.
Zuko did not know how long he sat, listening to the rhythmic snores of his Uncle. It reminded him of his first breathing lesson, when his eye was still bandaged. Shame filled him at the memory, for thinking so low of his Uncle then. That his Uncle would harm an injured child who had done no wrong.
Uncle was still the Dragon of the West, and while it would never be directed towards a child, Zuko couldn’t pretend that he was still be considered a child. He had killed people, had ruined lives. No, Zuko was not a child and could not expect the leniency that children deserved. He could not expect the free forgiveness that was given out when children were unknowingly cruel.
The snores stopped, and Zuko couldn’t breathe. A loud groan echoed in Zuko’s head and he cursed himself for wasting time remembering Uncle of the past instead of making amends to the Uncle of the present. When he was sent away he could reminisce his life away, once Ozai and Azula were gone and Uncle on the throne. He must say his apologies before he was kicked out. His Uncle refused to look at him, and Zuko saw the same shoulders that were disappointed in him for weeks at the Caldera.
“Uncle. I know you must have mixed feeling about seeing me.” He hoped there were mixed feelings, instead of just the disgust he knew had to be there. “But I want you to know I am so, so sorry, Uncle. I am so sorry and ashamed of what I did.”
There was silence, and Zuko realized his apology was wholly inadequate. So far his entire apology was about Zuko, not about how he wronged his Uncle. How could he be so selfish, even now? It didn’t matter if he was sorry, how was him being sorry and ashamed going to fix the betrayal. He should have planned what he was going to say, he should have thought about how he was going to repay Uncle.
“I don't know how to make it up to you,” he started. He should have though about this. “But I -"
Even with his head bowed, Zuko could see his Uncle turn around, hand raised. Again, Zuko remembered the tea cup, before banishing it from his mind. He flinched then, and he would not do so again. He was no longer a coward, afraid of the consequences of his actions.
A hand grasped his collar, and Zuko had a brief prayer that he would still be able to help Aang when it was over. Even if his Uncle didn’t beat him, the threatening chasm of rejection loomed near. He would hold it together until his Uncle was on the throne. Then he could be weak.
It took Zuko a moment before realizing that he was being hugged within a inch of his life. For the first time since Ba Sing Se, he began to hope that his Uncle would forgive him.
He had to mention it. He wouldn’t survive if he was wrong. “How can you forgive me so easily? I thought you would be furious with me.” Maybe Uncle was still furious with him, but was relieved to see him alive.
“I was never angry with you. I was sad, because I was afraid you lost your way.” Zuko promised himself he wouldn’t cry, not at being rejected. He hadn’t prepared himself for this absolution. He must say what he wanted to say before his throat closed. He missed his Uncle’s smell, his voice, his snores.
“I did lose my way.” Uncle must have known. Perhaps he knew that Zuko would find his way back, when he realized Ozai still didn’t love him. Perhaps Zuko needed to see how his father treated him with a lens that wasn’t clouded by a hopeful child that thought if he was good enough, his father would be proud.
The hands, wrapped tightly around Zuko’s thin frame, moved to his shoulders and pushed him back. Zuko looked at his Uncle, wet faced.
“But you have found it again. And you did it by yourself. And I am so happy you found your way here.” A small smile graced his face and the guilt bubbling inside Zuko calmed. If his Uncle was happy to see him, Zuko could not ruin it. He had already ruined so much.
Uncle hugged him again, and this time Zuko wrapped his arms around him in kind. He cautiously buried his head in his Uncle’s shoulder, trying to soak in the comfort he missed for months.
“It wasn't that hard, uncle. You have a pretty strong scent." Zuko mumbled into his shoulder. It was a long standing argument between them that his feet smelled.
Uncle Iroh laughed, and Zuko knew that when this was all over, he would still be loved.