Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Sokka glared at the metal door leading to the command post. Every so often he cut a glance down over the rail to the lower deck. He could hear the Fire Nation soldiers calling to each other below. The air smelled like fire down here, and it made his stomach roll. So far, the Fire Nation sailors manning the trebuchets had only fired a few warning shots toward the wall, but as the night stretched on and the ocean darkened, the smell of smoke and ash grew steadily stronger.

He didn’t know what they were waiting for, only that they were clearly growing impatient.

Sokka could sympathize. He turned back to glare at the command post door again, still stubbornly closed.

Still no Hahn.

Sokka grit his teeth. He’d known this would be a mess from the start, because their intelligence was already spotty, and Hahn was a jerk. For a moment, Sokka considered the main deck, where half a dozen men were gathered around the trebuchet aimed for Agna Qel’a’s walls.

Maybe he could…

...but no, there were too many soldiers, and anyway, he couldn’t risk Hahn finally coming back while he was going off mission, even if it meant sabotaging their weapons.

Sokka sighed, a frustrated hiss through clenched teeth. He was useless just sitting here, waiting for Hahn to show up, nervous energy burrowing deeper with every minute that passed without him.

He supposed he should be grateful, no matter how much Hahn got under his skin. After they’d been caught fighting, he’d been certain that Chief Arnook was going to take him off the mission altogether. That would have been so much worse, sitting safe behind the walls while the real warriors were out fighting to protect their people.

The plan… wasn’t great, because their intelligence was terribly dated, and Hahn kept calling Admiral Zhao “Choi,” no matter how many times Sokka corrected him. At least Sokka had convinced them that going during the day was too risky, with how noticeably off their stolen uniforms were from the real thing. They’d been ferried to the admiral’s ship by a small craft, easy enough to slip through the Fire Nation’s defenses under the cover of darkness, with a skilled waterbender to steer them over the waves. To get off the ships again, they were on their own.

The only problem was that Zhao wasn’t here.

Sokka and Hahn had split up to cover more ground, hoping that their intelligence about the ship’s layout wasn’t as out of date as their uniforms. They’d agreed to meet up again once they’d searched their half of the ship, regroup, and then, if they found him, take down Zhao together. Hahn had gone for the command deck, and Sokka had agreed to search down below.

It had been stuffy, and cramped, and the hallways mostly deserted, with the majority of the sailors already at their battle stations. The distraction of the battle had given him enough time to swap his armor for a set from their stores. It fit a little strangely over his coat, but the fabric was way too thin to go without—he guessed keeping warm was easier for firebenders, but he needed his furs.

Then he’d combed the rooms below, quickly, posing as a messenger looking to relay an urgent report to Admiral Zhao.

They’d all told him the same thing: Zhao wasn’t on the ship.

Sokka had no idea where he could have gone, because what kind of admiral abandoned his own fleet at the start of a battle? But none of the sailors had suspected him, so they must have been telling the truth, even as they quickly shuffled him out again before he could overhear any of their strategizing.

Sokka squinted at the sky. It had been almost an hour since he’d split up with Hahn. He’d had a lot more ground to cover on the lower decks—even if Hahn was moving slowly, even if his shitty disguise meant he couldn’t afford to get too close to the Fire Nation sailors patrolling the command deck, it didn’t make sense for him to be this late.

Sokka took his helmet off and rested it against his knee, then mopped his brow with the tail of his sleeve. They’d agreed to meet by the lifeboats. Crouched where he was in view of the command deck door, he could feel the heat pouring off the engine room, spitting steam from the ventilation pipes bracketing the cabins. Every so often a gust of wind would catch the hot air and wash the deck in a damp fog. His skin prickled with it, overwarm between the unnatural heat and the layers beneath his stolen armor. It was hotter here than it was even down below, and the heat was only making him more sick with nerves, a prickling anxiety that something had gone wrong clawing the back of his mind.

Hahn should have beaten Sokka here. Sokka crossed his arms, chewed his lip nervously. Had he run into trouble? Had he found Zhao after all? Maybe he’d gone and gotten himself dumped overboard, or maybe he’d just… left already, ditched Sokka without bothering to wait and see if he made it out all right.

Sokka dared to lean out over the rail, glancing quickly at the next ship over. He could just make out the enemy sailors moving through the firelight, but if any of the other warriors had been discovered, they weren’t raising any alarms. It was too dark to tell without the backlight of the city lights, but he thought he might have seen the shadow of a Fire Nation liferaft slipping over the water to disappear behind the ship’s hull, as the first of the other men finished their search. If no alarms had been raised yet, that probably meant that they hadn’t found Zhao either—

Behind him, the door banged open, screeching on its tracks. Sokka whirled, relief and frustration mixed up on his face.

But then he froze, breath caught as metal boots rang hollow against the deck. The sailor paused, too, helmet slung under one arm, fingers curled around the bowl of his pipe. He pinched a flame between his thumb and forefinger as he turned.

And then he stopped, fingers faintly smoking as he stared.

Sokka dove for his helmet again, panic crushing rationality. It was too late, the man had seen him. He should have tried to bluff—

The pipe clattered against the deck, spilling ash. Sokka could see the warning shout forming on the man’s lips, so he quickly pivoted and flung his helmet in his face. It crunched against his nose, and his shout turned more into a pained grunt. Before the helmet even hit the ground, Sokka forced his way past him, down the deck toward the lifeboats.

Damn it, damn it, Hahn. It was too late now, he had to leave without him.

“Raid!” the man shouted over the rail, which was—which was very overgenerous, because it was just Sokka and his tiny little life raft and no Hahn—

Heads swiveled in unison as the sailors on the deck below turned. He was completely exposed on the upper deck, with dozens of firebenders all in range, and then—

The sky tinged blood red.

Sokka flinched back, expecting fire.

It didn’t come. He whirled around, confused. When he locked eyes with the firebender he looked—just as confused as Sokka, almost afraid. He stared back at Sokka for a moment longer, chest heaving strangely, before giving into temptation. He looked up.

Sokka’s skin prickled as he turned his face up toward the moon, a fiery red disk against the bloody pinprick stars dotting the night.

Anxiety coiled sour in his stomach as he stared at it. His mind was screaming at him, wrong, wrong, wrong, even as his limbs refused to move. A hatch clanged open below, and a disquieted murmur drifted up to where he leaned against the rail.

The sound—the reminder that he was still surrounded—snapped him out of it. Sokka backed away, but the sailor was still frozen in place. He needed to get out now, back to Agna Qel’a, find his sister and Aang, because something was very wrong here.

The liferaft was stored with a mechanical winch. It groaned ominously when he yanked on the lever. The sound drew the sailor’s attention, face twisted with misplaced anxiety.

“Stop!” he shouted.

Sokka ducked a streak of flame as it sailed over his head, throwing his weight against the lever, jammed or frozen he couldn’t tell. He could feel the next strike before he even registered the flash, air warping with heat. Sokka swore and pulled back just in time to avoid getting burned, then tugged his sleeve down over his hands to grip the red-hot winch again—

Everything went dark. Sokka froze, arm still outstretched, blinking against the sudden blackness. A cry of alarm rose from the deck below, followed by a flare of light. He flinched, and the light ebbed away again, pale flames clawing desperately at the heavy dark before guttering out. Sokka turned toward the pitch black sky and stared in horror.

The moon—?

Another fire followed, burning stronger, casting long shadows over the deck below. Another cry rose up, but Sokka couldn’t tear his eyes away, heart pounding in his ears at the empty place in the sky where the full moon had been only moments ago.

How was… where was the moon?

His first, hysterical thought was that this… had to be some weird Avatar thing, more spirit nonsense, he was so sick of spirit nonsense—

The shadows on the deck below shifted, elongating, tinting from red to blue.

A glowing mass was rising from the water, towering over the palace, the wall, the ships and the polar waters of the ocean stretching on behind them. As he stared, the water began to take form, eyes, arms, a head. It was a fish, for a moment, bulbous eyes unblinking, shimmering with a strange light, it—

It was the ocean spirit.

Sokka’s heart seized as it blinked, surging from terrifying stillness to motion. The spirit swept forward, supernaturally fast for how large it was. It slashed at the first ship on the line with one clawed hand. The cabin shrieked as the top half of the ship slid off to crash down on the deck below. The ship lurched under the sudden shift in weight, cast-off waves rocking the other ships in the aftershock. Sokka held on. The soldiers on the deck below were screaming. The trebuchet shuddered as the ammo caught fire, and lights swelled on the decks of several other ships at almost the same moment. The fires streaked across the sky to be swallowed by fish-spirit’s body, winking like fireflies in the darkness.

The sailor was still standing beside him. Sokka had almost forgotten him. He met his eye, and the man stared back, hands lax at his sides. His face was unnaturally still, eyes too wide, almost like… almost like he knew—

The spirit turned its unblinking gaze down on them as it slowly swept its arms out.

It looked just like that stupid waterbending scroll, like Katara when she was practicing, the same form sweeping a wall of water from the sea, towering higher and higher until Agna Qel’a disappeared, and all he could see for miles and miles was a wall of impenetrable black, swirling under that terrifying blue glow.

The life raft—

Wasn’t going to do shit against a wave that size.

Katara—

Oh.

Katara was going to be so sad.

He saw the wave coming, but he didn’t see it hit, between one blink and the next. Sokka’s back slammed against the cabin wall. He pressed both hands to his mouth and somehow managed to keep his lungs from seizing in the cold, his muscles screaming with the impact. The pressure was enormous, pinning him down, spots dancing across his eyelids.

And then they were sinking, water roaring in his ears, currents dragging him under. The water was pitch black around him. The salt burned his eyes as he whirled, or tried to, fighting the current, fighting the drag of the wreckage sinking around him. Sokka kicked against it, but he couldn’t—the armor was too heavy. He scrabbled at the clasps with numb fingers, but it was dark, he couldn’t see, he couldn’t remember how—

A hand fell on his shoulder, searingly hot in the frigid waters. Sokka flinched, gasped and lost a mouthful of air. The hand jerked back, and he felt the chest plate loosen, fall away. He turned in the pitch black water, reached out, but the hand was gone. Sokka tried to grab for the armor, to tell which way it was sinking, figure out which way was up, but it slipped away into the darkness, too, and he was alone.

Sokka’s lungs were screaming. He’d already lost too much air. He pressed one hand against his mouth, picked a direction and tried to kick off again. Something caught his sleeve, the torn edge of a shattered hull, maybe, he couldn’t see. Whatever it was only dragged him further down.

He couldn’t see. Everywhere he looked was inky black, impossible to tell whether he was clawing toward or away from danger. There was no light down here, not from the moon, not from the ocean spirit, just shadows in the churning water, and—

For one moment the current swelled around him. All at once the pressure lifted. The darkness broke, and Sokka blinked against the sting of salt in his eyes. A soft white light bloomed in the water, hovering just ahead of him, taking shape.

Yue smiled at him, soft and a little sad.

He was—hallucinating. He was going to drown, and he’d never even...

Yue leaned in. Her fingers brushed feather light over his cheeks, warm wherever she touched. She kissed him, and the burning pressure in his lungs seemed to ease.

Yeah. Hallucinating.

Sokka blinked again. Yue was gone, but the water was no longer dark—he could just see the faint outline of the moon breaking through the surface. The shadow of something drifted past on the current, washing out to sea, and that passing darkness startled him into motion, swimming up, up, toward the scattering debris.

All that was left of the Fire Nation fleet.

Sokka had fallen through the ice once when he was five years old. He and Katara had found the hole while they were playing. It was rough-edged, clearly abandoned, but Sokka couldn’t help imagining the tiger seals poking up through it for air, and he’d thought—he was brave warrior, a skilled hunter like his dad, so it had seemed like such a good idea for him to slip out later that night when he couldn’t sleep, wrestling with a spear that was slightly too long for him to carry easily.

He was much too young to have been out alone, but stubborn enough to want to try. It hadn’t occurred to him that there might be a reason that the breathing hole was abandoned, that the unseasonably warm weather had weakened the ice around it. The shock of falling had lost him most of his breath, the shock of the cold water had done the rest.

He didn’t remember how it felt to drown—only the fall, and the fear, and then his dad scruffing him by the back of his coat and dragging him out, sopping and miserable, ice clinging to his eyelashes and wet fur too heavy to lift with tingling arms.

He remembered how his dad had wrapped him up inside his own coat and carried him home. He hadn’t even been angry—

Sokka’s eyes stung with the memory, or the cold, or the salt. It was ridiculous. He hadn’t thought of that day in years, and he didn’t know why he would now, except to feel sorry for himself—

He’d freeze to death in minutes if he didn’t get out of the water. Sokka gripped the flat edge of a shattered deck and tried to pull himself up. It took him three tries to get a grip on it, fingers already clumsy, chest painfully tight. He’d swallowed water, each breath rattling, but somehow he managed to get himself up enough to roll over onto the edge. The wreckage was hardly buoyant enough to float. It rocked dangerously under his weight as he settled. Sokka curled in on himself, gasping for breath, and so… so tired...

Sokka woke to voices, and something much more solid under him. The precarious listing of the ruined deck was gone, replaced with gentle rocking. He felt sick—he’d never gotten seasick before—and suddenly he was heaving seawater and bile onto the deck.

“Dad,” he tried to say. That didn’t feel quite right, but he couldn’t remember why. The word stuck in his throat anyway, came out as a painful rasping cough, instead. The voices quieted, for just a moment.

He was shivering violently, and that—that was good, Sokka knew it was good, because cold and shivering was bad news but cold and not shivering was a death sentence. He was soaked, and that was... less good, that was frostbite and not shivering and falling asleep and not waking up again...

...what was happening? He groaned and tried to sit up, but his limbs felt numb and distant, like they belonged to someone else.

“He’s alive,” a voice said, tense, just barely edged with relief.

A hand wrapped around his shoulder and rolled him onto his stomach. Sokka grunted in pain as something jabbed him in the back, a heavy weight pressing him down into the wood. Hands wrapped around his wrists and jerked his arms back. The touch burned against his frozen skin. He struggled, a little. Tried to, with his hands bunched behind his back.

“Prince Zuko,” another voice said, low and admonishing. That set off alarm bells—it took an embarrassingly long time to remember why. Sokka cracked an eye, tilted his head to squint at the shadow leaning over him. Why was he, of all people… what was he doing here?

“He’s still our enemy, Uncle,” the voice said. Zuko said, because he was leaning over him, forcing him down with a knee in his back, tying his hands. His hair brushed the back of Sokka’s neck as he leaned in, but he was so cold he could barely feel the whisper of it against his skin.

“Don’t… don’t touch me,” Sokka said. His throat rasped painfully when he spoke, chest tight. He coughed again, all salt and seawater. Zuko grimaced.

The weight on his back lifted off, and Sokka gasped. Zuko nudged him with his boot, rolled him over onto his back. Sokka tried to curl in on himself, but he was... so tired, his muscles weren’t cooperating. His fists dug into the small of his back.

Zuko stepped around him toward his head, considering. Sokka clenched his teeth and glared. The effect wasn’t very intimidating with his vision swimming, lying there shivering like a drowned elephant rat.

Zuko just watched him, face strangely blank. Sokka’s heart beat feathery in his chest. He was pretty sure he’d never seen Zuko anything but angry. Anxiety prickled down his spine at his placid calm. Slowly, Zuko kneeled.

“Wait, don’t,” Sokka gasped. He tried to pull away, but there was nowhere else for him to go, nowhere but back in the water.

Zuko drew a deep breath through his nose, once, twice, a flash of light between his teeth with each exhale. On the third breath his arms jerked forward. Sokka flinched, expecting a blow, flames, but—

“Oh,” Sokka sighed, as warmth washed over him in a shimmering wave, splitting the frigid air to a steaming cloud that whipped away on the wind. Zuko did it again, then shifted closer, so that he was kneeling right behind Sokka’s head, knees brushing the ice-crusted tips of his wolf tail. He laid both hands on Sokka’s shoulders, firm pressure, and the water hissed from his coat in a cloud of steam. It hurt, a little, the sudden heat, and then… then it was just warm, and such a relief that his breath caught in his lungs.

Sokka exhaled shakily, shuddering violently as the warmth washed over him.

“Thank you,” Sokka mumbled. Trying to speak drew another wet cough from him, shoulders tensing with the effort. Zuko just pressed him down again, hardly putting any strength behind it. Sokka was... so tired. He blinked slowly, eyelids fluttering, weakly fighting the exhaustion seeping through his skin and into his bones.

Zuko snorted and turned away. He kept his hands steady, fingers twitching only slightly on Sokka’s shoulder.

“You’re no good to me dead,” he said.

Sokka woke to the gentle rocking of the sea. It was quiet. He was cold, but not nearly as cold as he’d been last night. His clothes had dried completely, hood tucked up over his head, partly obscuring his face. He remembered the warmth, then, the feeling sinking through his skin to his bones, the intensity in Zuko’s expression as he leaned over him in the darkness. He shivered involuntarily at the memory. Zuko had kept him alive. He’d—

Wait. Zuko had kept him alive.

Sokka’s heart began to race, thoughts whirring. Why had Zuko kept him alive? What did he want with Sokka?

Sokka’s fingers were cold. He’d lost his gloves sometime between the Fire Nation ship and the swim and…

Oh, this was bad. He flexed his wrists, fingertips brushing the rough edges of the rope binding his arms behind his back. His shoulders ached from spending so long in the same position. Sokka bit back a pained sound as he tried to shift over to relieve some of the tension in his arms. His back had ached before, but now that he was warmer it lanced through his shoulders where he’d struck the cabin when the wave hit. Sokka shifted again, slower. He was… he was probably okay. His arms ached, and he was cold, and his back was definitely going to bruise spectacularly, but he could handle that. He tried to roll his shoulder, then tensed. The holster on his upper back was gone, the familiar tug of the strap over his shoulder missing. Where was his…?

Oh.

He must have dropped his boomerang in the ocean, maybe when he was ditching the armor. Exhausted, near drowned, arms pulled behind his back, it was that thought that finally made it real, fear setting like hooks beneath his ribs. Sokka’s heart thumped in his throat, too loud next to the sedate churning of the sea.

“You’re awake,” Zuko said.

Sokka squinted one eye open. The sun had risen while he was unconscious, climbing now toward its zenith, partly obscured by a gray-cast sky. His vision was strangely blurry for a moment, and he blinked rapidly to clear it.

His heart sank, taking in the vast and empty sea, the raft, and the Fire Nation red of the sails. The raft was small, and looked like it had been cobbled together from the wreckage—the deck from a Water Tribe fishing boat, the pontoons ripped from a Fire Nation ship, tattered sails and mismatched rope, all made for a quick escape. There wasn’t much else, aside from a couple small bags lashed to the mast, hardly enough supplies for a solo voyage, let alone two people, or three.

Sokka tilted his head to glare at the raft’s other passengers. Zuko and his uncle were sitting next to each other, both… staring at him, Zuko with a scowl, Iroh with a small frown, the barest tilt of concern in his expression.

Which of the Fire Nation ships had been Zuko’s? The ship he’d been following them on had been smaller, hadn’t it? But all of the ships on the line were the same class of warship, so clearly Zuko must have gotten an upgrade, for all the good that did him against the ocean spirit.

For a moment Sokka just glared at the sky, because of course Zuko, with his stupid jerk luck, had managed to escape the wave and somehow find himself a raft…

He shouldn’t be complaining. He’d probably be dead without that stupid jerk luck, not that he was feeling particularly grateful about it. Zuko was the crown prince of the Fire Nation, and his uncle was a decorated general, the Dragon of the West. They’d probably ordered the attack in the first place, maybe even planned it. This was all his fault.

He wondered if he’d had time to try to capture Aang, between the ocean spirit, and his fleet being destroyed, and escaping. Probably, knowing Zuko.

He hoped Aang had kicked his butt.

Sokka was feeling a lot of things right now, but all the confusion of the attack and the fear of the drowning and the panic of waking up here of all places basically distilled down to one clear sentiment.

“Fuck off,” Sokka said.

He turned his face down toward the lining of his hood and huffed a harsh breath. Then he pressed his shoulder into the deck and levered himself up to sitting. His head swam at the sudden shift in position, vision narrowing for a moment before it cleared.

Zuko snorted. “I saved your life.”

“You’re the reason my life needed saving!” he said. “You and your stupid ships!”

His arms ached, tied behind his back just-shy of too tightly. Sokka tugged experimentally, testing the knot. The rope bit into his wrists, damp and chafing uncomfortably. It was… good quality rope. Inexplicably, that pissed him off.

“Untie me!” Sokka said.

Zuko looked like he’d had as rough of a night as Sokka had. His face was badly mottled with cuts and scrapes, unscarred eye slightly swollen under a darkening bruise. Sokka knew it was probably from the ocean spirit, but… he very pettily hoped that was Katara’s doing, instead. Zuko’s cheeks were already pink from the cold, but he flushed more when he caught Sokka staring at the mess of his face. He glowered.

“Tell me where the Avatar is headed next,” Zuko said, ignoring his demand.

Sokka scoffed, a quip that would make Gran Gran smack him on the tip of his tongue. But then he hesitated, because…

Because that was… a good question.

Sokka didn’t know where Aang was headed half the time when he was on Appa’s back with him. Honestly, sometimes it seemed like even Aang didn’t know...

The thought sank into the pit of his stomach. He had no idea how he was going to find them again. They had to be headed to the Earth Kingdom to find Aang an earthbending teacher, but the Earth Kingdom was huge, and they had a flying bison, while Sokka was… wherever he was.

He squinted at the horizon, trying to imagine the outline of Agna Qel’a’s walls in the distance. There was nothing but ocean, ocean, and more ocean, everywhere he looked.

Had Aang and Katara left without him? He didn’t think they would. Were they waiting for him, or… or were they out looking for him? He glanced up at the sky. It was stupid, the little stab of hurt he felt when he saw nothing but clouds. He squinted, just to be sure, and then pointely looked away, before his disappointment could show on his face.

Sokka cleared his throat. His answer was the same, either way.

“I’m not helping you,” he said.

“I have no interest in you,” Zuko said. “Cooperate, and we’ll let you go. Eventually.”

Yeah, right. Like Sokka would trust him. He didn’t even dignify that with a response, pointedly rolling his eyes away. There… wasn’t really anything else to look at, other than the empty ocean and the flotsam on the waves. Sokka watched the splintered edge of something flip and sink beneath the surface. He couldn’t tell if it had belonged to a Fire Nation or a Water Tribe ship before it disappeared.

“Perhaps if you untied him, he would be more amenable to questions,” Iroh suggested. He just smiled, entirely unfazed, when Zuko whipped around to glare at him, too.

“No,” Zuko said immediately. “If he answers our questions, we’ll find the Avatar, and he can be untied then.”

“I’m not betraying my friend,” Sokka said. He shifted on his knees, trying to take some pressure off his aching shoulders with a new angle. “Turn around. Take me back to the North Pole.”

“There’s nothing back there for you,” Zuko said. “Your friend has left without you by now.”

“They wouldn’t…” Sokka trailed off.

No. That was… they wouldn’t leave without him. He’d only been gone for a few hours. They’d be looking for him. They…

Sokka glanced at Iroh. The look on his face solidified the thought forming in the back of his mind, dread creeping in like frost.

“Oh,” Sokka said quietly, with the weight of Iroh’s gaze sinking straight through him.

He thought of the ocean spirit, the wall of water crashing over them, the shattered ships sinking into darkness.

He thought of the warmth of that hand on his shoulder, gone in an instant, disappearing with the current.

“My sister thinks I’m dead, doesn’t she?” Sokka said. “They think I drowned.”

Zuko didn’t answer. He just frowned at Sokka like there was something confusing about his reaction.

“Your sister loves you,” Zuko said. He sounded almost uncertain, gaze cold and searching. Sokka scowled at him, and Zuko turned away. “Good. Then she’ll trade you for the Avatar.”

“No, she won’t,” Sokka insisted. What was with this guy? Hadn’t Zuko already tried kidnapping them before? It hadn’t worked when he hired those stupid pirates, and it wasn’t going to work now. They weren’t going to just trade their friends like bargaining chips. Sokka grit his teeth. “I don’t care if they left without me. Take me back to Agna Qel’a. I’ll… find my own ship, then.”

Yue would help him, at least. He didn’t know what had happened to Hahn or the other men. He hoped they’d made it out. He had no way to know, now, other than to go back.

He didn’t know what had become of the Northern Water Tribe’s ships after the battle, either. They… well, they must be better off than the Fire Nation fleet, at least. There had to be at least one ship that would take him to the Earth Kingdom, and… Sokka could find his way from there. He could do this, he had to, because his sister was out there, and she thought he was dead, and she needed him.

“Take me back,” Sokka said again, feeling frustrated and desperate.

“I’m afraid that’s not possible,” Iroh said. He said it gently, like he was speaking to someone very fragile. It made Sokka bristle with indignation as he continued, “We were fortunate to escape the first time, given the circumstances.”

“The circumstances,” Sokka repeated.

An anxious pressure was building in his chest. He tried to swallow to relieve it, throat dry and raw. Iroh’s expression was tense—a strange look on him, when Sokka had seen him chasing them with Zuko, and lecturing Zuko, and being screamed at by Zuko, and had never seen him look so unsettled. There was pity there, too, and that was what made Sokka’s heart leap, with the idea that they knew something Sokka didn’t and it was something bad, worse even than the battle and the destruction in the harbor.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Sokka asked. “What did… what did you do?”

Zuko turned to Iroh, expression grim. Iroh shook his head.

“What do you remember from last night?” Iroh asked.

“The ocean spirit protected the city,” Sokka said.

“The Avatar protected the city,” Iroh corrected. “The ocean spirit leant him its power, and in exchange…”

He trailed off and turned his gaze toward the sea, and the wreckage bobbing on the waves.

Sokka closed his eyes. The image of the ocean spirit, alight with energy, breathtaking and powerful as the ocean itself, had burned into his mind. He tried to picture Aang, then, inside it, tearing apart Fire Nation ships like paper, shredding them to pieces. His heart sank, because… what would Aang have done after, once he’d seen the devastation in the harbor, and…

Oh, no.

He’d told Aang where he was going. He’d blame himself for what had happened. He’d think it was his fault.

He’d think he’d drowned him.

“Why?” Sokka asked. “Aang doesn’t… He’s just a kid. He wouldn’t...” Sink dozens of ships to the bottom of the ocean, he wanted to shout, but apparently… apparently Aang would, if something pushed him far enough.

Sokka leaned up on his knees, frustration simmering to anger. “What happened?”

Iroh sighed. Zuko looked—tired, more tired than Sokka had ever seen him. He glared very resolutely at the spot above Sokka’s shoulder.

“I think you had better sit down,” Iroh said.

Sokka pressed his knuckles against the wood, barely holding himself upright. He couldn’t feel his fingertips, prickling, a sweeping numbness seeping into his limbs and his chest as the horror of Iroh’s words crept up on him. He tried to—something, deny it, but he just made a strangled, disbelieving sound.

There was pity in Iroh’s gaze, and that was enough to push the sweeping chill down, to light him up with something angry and desperate instead.

“You killed the moon!” Sokka shouted. “And Yue—”

“Zhao killed the moon. Not us,” Zuko said.

“The Fire Nation,” Sokka spat back. They’d snuck into the city like cowards, and—it didn’t make any sense, the Fire Nation needed the moon, too. His lungs ached, from the water and the cold. Now a seething disbelief was settling in his chest too, choking him.

(He’d thought he was hallucinating.)

Sokka hadn’t been this angry since… since his mom, since the raids, since his dad left him behind.

(If he’d been there, could he have stopped her?)

“Come away from the edge,” Iroh said, not unkindly.

Sokka hadn’t even noticed moving back, as far away from them as he could shift on such a tiny raft, but he was dangerously close to the water now. The kindness was almost worse. It felt like they’d burned him out, like he was just a hollow shell, still smoldering.

“Just,” Sokka said. He wanted to stay angry, but his voice came out choked, breaking on the word. He didn’t want to look at either of them, but… they were still Fire Nation. He didn’t want to turn his back on them, either. “Stay away from me.”

Sokka was—he couldn’t even look at them. He laid down, curled in on his side with his temple pressed flush against the cool wood, and drew a shuddering breath. Heat pricked at his eyes, an uncomfortable pressure, but he was just… so tired, like a dam splintered with cracks, ready to break—

They left him alone while the sun sank below the water, and the moon rose.

Iroh had fallen asleep hours ago, snoring quietly.

Sokka was almost thankful for the cold, and for the uncomfortable angle of his hands bound behind him. It made it easier to stay awake.

He drew his knees up to his chin. The moon looked the same. Sokka wasn’t sure why he’d expected it to look any different, just that… it felt like it should, like the change should be obvious, so the rest of the world could know it had changed, too.

On the other side of the raft, Zuko shifted. Sokka could feel the weight of his gaze. He kept doing that—turning, staring quietly. He probably didn’t trust himself to fall asleep while Sokka was still awake. Good. That made two of them.

Sokka turned and glared at him.

“What,” he said, jarringly loud in the silence. “What do you want?”

Iroh shifted at the sound but didn’t wake. Under the light of the near full moon it was easy to make out Zuko’s expression. Understanding it was harder, bruised face twisted into a slight frown. He didn’t look suspicious, or really wary of Sokka at all, which didn’t explain why he kept staring at him.

“Nothing,” Zuko said immediately. He grimaced, turned to look elsewhere—the sky—then quickly thought better of it. “Just—”

He cut himself off again. Sokka waited—he wasn’t feeling particularly patient, but he didn’t have anything else to do, other than watching the moon’s slow crawl across the sky.

“I’m sorry,” Zuko said, quietly. He glared at the deck as he said it, so that Sokka might have missed it, if he hadn't been watching Zuko so closely.

It was hard to tell whether he was trying not to wake his uncle or hoping that Sokka wouldn’t hear him. “About your girlfriend. I wasn’t there when it happened, but… if it makes you feel better… the ocean spirit took Zhao in the end.” He paused a moment, then even quieter, he added, “I couldn’t stop it.”

Sokka hesitated for so long that Zuko had already turned away, expecting no answer.

“That doesn’t make me feel better, no,” Sokka said.

More people dying didn’t fix anything, not even horrible Fire Nation soldiers, not even if they deserved it. Especially if Aang would blame himself for what had happened. It wouldn’t bring Yue back.

Zuko nodded tightly. Sokka was quiet for a moment, but now that Zuko had broken the silence, another thought was clawing its way past the grief threatening to choke him. Sokka latched onto it, because at least it was something else, something productive instead of painful.

“Zuko,” he said, hesitantly. “Where are you taking me?”

How many days’ sailing was it from here to the Fire Nation? Sokka had been so disoriented when they’d first pulled him out of the water, he was lucky to tell up from down. Now he peered at the partly overcast sky, trying to make sense of the pinprick stars, so different from the ones back home. He’d seen Iroh tuck a sun compass into his sleeve earlier. He wondered if Zuko knew their heading, now.

“We’re headed for the Earth Kingdom,” Zuko said. “You’re going to tell me where to find the Avatar.”

A lump rose in Sokka’s throat. It was hard to tell whether it was relief that they weren’t taking him back to the Fire Nation, or worry for Aang and Katara. Traveling on Appa, they might be long gone by the time they even reached the Earth Kingdom. Part of him hoped so, that they’d find Aang’s earthbending teacher and escape before Zuko could even find their trail.

And a more selfish part of him wondered, if they did get away, if he’d ever see them again. Wondering if his little sister even needed him to look out for her anymore, now that she was a master waterbender. Wanting, maybe stupidly, to be there for her anyway.

Maybe he was better off just—lying to Zuko, distracting him. Sokka could tell him he knew where Aang was, lead him on a wild goose-hare chase, and then—

The thought churned his stomach, shame at the thought of leaving Katara alone, and something dangerously close to loneliness. It must have shown on his face, because Zuko clicked his tongue and made a frustrated sound, like he was already expecting another one of Sokka’s defiant refusals to help him.

But then when Sokka glanced at him, he didn’t really look frustrated. Tired, mostly, and… strangely regal, kneeling with his legs tucked under him, back straight and mouth firm, gaze cutting. Sokka swallowed.

“You…” Zuko said haltingly, voice pitched low. Quiet, so he didn’t wake his uncle, or gentle—

No.

Voice pitched low, just so he didn’t wake his uncle, Zuko said, “You should sleep. A man needs his rest.”

Sokka watched dully as the battered wreckage of the Fire Nation ships drifted past them, tracing patterns where they bobbed on the waves. There wasn’t much left—most of it was too heavy to float once it had been torn apart, tons of metal swallowed up by the sea. A few pieces floated by. Flags. Crates, freed from their holds, still watertight and bobbing jauntily on the currents. A few times his gaze caught on other things, floating, soft-edged and lumpy, and he quickly glanced away, unwilling to look closer.

In the end, Sokka hadn’t slept at all during the night, watching the moon on her slow arc through the sky. He let his eyes slip closed now. He was exhausted, deeper than he could fix with sleep. The ocean was strangely still. It made his skin crawl, imagining what lay beneath the surface.

He slept in fits, dreaming of Yue, dreaming of Aang in the Avatar state, glowing blue with the ocean spirit’s light, dreaming of hands grasping him in the dark—

Sokka snapped awake to rough hands dragging him toward the middle of the deck.

“—enough sleeping,” Zuko said.

Sokka glared at him, disoriented. The moment Zuko saw that he was awake, he turned away to snap at his uncle. The back of Sokka’s coat was damp—well, more damp than it already was—where rough water had slapped against the boards.

He shivered as a gust of wind caught the loose edges of his hood. When Sokka leaned up to squint at the late afternoon sun, he found that the clouds were already swallowing it. The ocean rolled, ominously green with the setting sun, biting wind snapping the sails.

Sokka watched the sky as the night drifted in with the storm. Zuko was checking the ties holding the tiny bags they’d brought with them to the deck with a single-minded focus.

“Perhaps the ocean spirit will not be so quick to forgive, after all,” Iroh said, eyeing the grey-black clouds gathering on the horizon with a grim frown.

That was… so stupid. A storm was a storm. Sokka had to bite his tongue to keep from saying it, because…

...well, because he’d seen first-hand what the ocean spirit was capable of, so maybe that wasn’t just superstitious nonsense. He glanced up at the slowly darkening sky. A little flicker of nervousness clenched at his chest. It was too overcast to see the stars, the white light of the rising moon dulled behind the gathering storm clouds.

This raft was pathetically small. Storms at sea were dangerous. The ocean was frighteningly powerful—even when it wasn’t holding a grudge.

Zuko shot his uncle a look and grumbled something under his breath. The deck was already slick with the icy spray of the ocean, the mast thinly coated in frost. Steam whipped away on the wind as Zuko climbed up to balance against the yard. Water sluiced over the deck, soaking Sokka to the knees. He flinched at the cold and shifted closer to the mast.

“Do you know what you’re doing?” Sokka asked.

Zuko didn’t answer him, but he’d definitely heard him with how violently he tugged on the line. Sokka had no choice but to sit there and balance on his knees as a dangerous swell rocked the raft.

The wind had only just started to pick up, but already it was fighting him for control. Halfway to furled, a strong gust caught the edge of the sail. Zuko swore as the line ripped out of his hands, snapping in the wind, sending the whole raft tilting dangerously. Sokka yelped, sliding on his back toward the raft’s edge. He twisted, fingers scraping against the slick wood, but he could hardly get a grip with his hands tied.

Zuko and Iroh both dove for the line at the same time, throwing their weight against it. The wind changed at the same moment, tossing the raft back in the other direction. Sokka landed hard on his hip, closer to the center mast again, breathless.

The sails snapped angrily in the wind as Zuko hauled them the last few feet to tie them off.

Iroh was tying off the other line when the next wave crested. Sokka leaned down, chest pressed against his knees. He took a deep breath—for all the good that would do him if he fell in with his hands tied behind his back, and the terror of that thought almost knocked the wind from him, anyway.

Rain bounced off the deck, hard enough to slap him in the face from below. The next wave swelled up in front of them. Sokka barely heard the shout over the roar of the rain—Zuko’s uncle, warning him to hold on—

A hand closed around his arm, yanking him back. Sokka choked back a shout, as the wave wrenched him in one direction, the hand around his arm in the other. After an impossibly long time, the ocean let go. Zuko didn’t.

Sokka coughed, his whole body shaking with the effort. Zuko’s hand felt like it was burning his arm, too warm against his icy skin. He turned toward Zuko, gaze fixed on the grim line of his mouth. His eyes burned from the salt.

“You have to untie me,” Sokka said, fear and frustration bleeding into his tone. It felt like drowning all over again, pushing the emotion down past the sharp ache in his lungs.

For a moment it looked like Zuko hadn’t heard him. Sokka drew a shaky breath.

“I said—”

“I heard you,” Zuko said, hand tightening on Sokka’s arm. “The answer is no.”

“I can’t hold on like this!” Sokka shouted back. It was hard to hear him over the roar of the wind, as the raft rocked dangerously under the swell of another wave. He grit his teeth as the water washed over them. Zuko’s hand tightened painfully on his arm. “Please. I can’t swim with my hands tied behind my back. If I fall in, I’ll drown!”

“If I untie you, you’ll try to escape,” Zuko said.

“Escape where? Where do you think I’m going to go?” Sokka asked. “We’re on a raft in the middle of the ocean!”

Zuko met his gaze for a long moment, jaw so tense his teeth could crack. Sokka stared resolutely back. A few flyaway hairs lashed against his face, cheeks raw from the wind and the cold. His heart was pounding in his ears, matching the roar of the waves. Zuko ground his teeth impossibly tighter, and fire flashed between them.

“Fine,” Zuko snapped. He made no move to untie him. Instead he grabbed him by the collar, dragged him so close that his hot breath washed over his cheek. Inches apart, he could feel the warmth radiating off the firebender’s body. An involuntary shiver wracked his frame. It was—so not fair, that Sokka was freezing, and they were warm, when this was all their fault to begin with.

“Listen to me very carefully,” Zuko said, dangerously low. “Just because I’m untying you does not mean I’m letting you go. I will capture the Avatar. Do not test me.”

Not if Sokka had anything to say about it he wouldn’t, but now wasn’t the time to be honest. Sokka nodded tightly.

“I get it,” he said. His voice was rough from coughing up seawater, strained. Sokka hoped it hid the tension, the hint of defiance in his tone. “Now untie me.”

Zuko glared at him a moment longer. Finally he let go of Sokka’s arm to pat the front of his coat, feeling for—something, a knife, maybe, to set Sokka free. Behind him, Iroh was struggling with the storm sail. Sokka saw Iroh tense and turn to look for Zuko. Sokka followed where his gaze had been, toward whatever made him flinch—

“Wave,” Sokka said, breathless at the size of it, and Zuko’s gaze snapped up.

Zuko swore. Knife forgotten, he hooked his fingers beneath the rope. Sokka yelped at the sudden, searing heat against his wrists, light flaring on the rain darkened deck. It hurt, one white-hot flash before the wave crashed over them.

The water spit and shrieked from the heat of Zuko’s fingers, but he’d burned through the rope enough for Sokka to jerk his hands free. His shoulders screamed at him, stiff from being pulled back for so long. He grit his teeth through it, fingers scraping raw against the deck. His hand found a loose line, torn free by the wave. Sokka held on as the water dragged away—

His other hand flew, without his permission, toward Zuko. He caught him by the hood—nearly caught him by his stupid ponytail—and hauled him back just before the swell of water could wash out to sea again.

“Zuko!” Iroh shouted, while Zuko ripped himself out of Sokka’s grip and crawled further up the deck. Sokka just let him go.

Sokka’s fingers were clumsy, numb from disuse and cold. He edged closer to the mast and wrapped his arms tightly around the ropes to hold on. He could feel the heat radiating off Zuko beside him. Zuko heaved a breath and the worst of the frigid water hissed off of him in clouds of steam. It washed over Sokka in a wave, a flash of warmth against the icy wind.

Sokka closed his eyes and leaned very slightly into Zuko’s shoulder—because it was cold, and he was warm, and Sokka wanted to live through the night more than he wanted to keep his pride. He expected Zuko to shove him away, but he didn’t, only sighed another hot breath and braced himself, perfectly still, for the next wave.

By the time the storm broke and the winds died down, the sun was fighting with the overcast gray sky. Sokka was soaked to the skin, shivering. He forced his stiff fingers to uncurl from the rope with a wince.

Sokka pressed a thumb against the burn on the inside of his wrist, just above the raw lines where the ropes had chaffed his skin.

He met Zuko’s gaze, drawn like a held breath. Zuko’s hand flexed against his knee, tensing like he was readying himself for a fight.

But then he sighed, an impatient sound, and the tension eased just slightly. Zuko staggered to his feet, so that he was towering over him when he spoke.

“Don’t get too comfortable. We’ll make landfall eventually,” Zuko promised, voice carefully even.

He turned away to free the furled sails. Sokka watched him for a moment, still on edge, unsure why, because this was good, and he was free—at least for now.

And then Sokka stood and grabbed the line, too, with his gaze fixed steadily on the horizon.

Chapter Text

Sokka could feel the press of the leather sheath on his thigh. He flexed his leg, barely moving beneath the length of his coat, still carefully out of sight. Sokka had to bite his cheek to keep his expression even. If Zuko had searched him for weapons, he hadn’t done a very careful job of it. He may have lost his boomerang to the ocean, but he wasn’t totally defenseless, as long as he still had his knife, tucked beneath the layers of his clothes.

The real question was what to do with it.

He definitely couldn’t beat them in a fair fight. The odds really weren’t in his favor, two-on-one against a couple of firebenders with only a knife that he’d never used for much more than whittling. He wished he had his boomerang, or his jaw bone knife at least, instead of the thin little blade hidden beneath his clothes.

So no, he couldn’t beat them in a fair fight, not on a raft this size, with nowhere to maneuver and no way to strategize.

But an unfair fight…

They were all tired after the storm. Iroh was snoring loudly, dead to the world. Zuko was asleep, too, rolled onto his side, face turned toward Sokka as though he didn’t quite trust him with his back. He’d stayed awake for hours, staring at Sokka through the darkness while Sokka feigned sleep, until he’d finally given in and closed his eyes.

Sokka scraped his boot over the deck, testing. Neither of them so much as stirred at the noise.

Sokka considered, again, the knife strapped to his thigh. He could…

He…

Oh, who was he kidding? Of course he couldn’t.

Sokka sighed, and the sound was swallowed by the rhythmic swell of the sea. He rolled onto his back to try to get some sleep.

“Wake up,” Zuko said.

“Mm, wh—” Sokka swatted Zuko’s hand away. “What, I’m awake, what? More… another storm?”

Sokka blinked at the sky, but it was perfectly clear. When he glanced back at Zuko, he was still crouching over him, expression hard. The bruises on his skin had begun to darken and turn green around the edges. He looked… tired.

“Tell me how to find the Avatar,” Zuko said.

Sokka stared at him. He turned and squinted at the sun, just barely breaking over the horizon.

“Now?” Sokka asked. He smothered a yawn, but not the incredulous look he was giving Zuko.

“Now,” Zuko said.

“There’s something wrong with you,” Sokka said.

“The day’s started,” he said.

“Your uncle isn’t even awake yet!” Sokka said.

“No, he’s not,” Zuko said pointedly, talking to Iroh now, “Because he’s nothing but a lazy old man.”

“We have a long journey ahead of us, Prince Zuko,” Iroh said. He didn’t even bother to open his eyes. If he was offended by Zuko calling him lazy, he was being remarkably gracious about it. Then again, Zuko was a spoiled jerk, so Iroh was probably as used to his insults as Sokka was unsurprised by them. “A fire which burns too hot burns out quickly. Perhaps patience—”

“I’ve been plenty patient!” Zuko snapped.

“You can’t talk to your elders that way,” Sokka said.

“Don’t tell me how to talk to my uncle,” Zuko said. “Tell me where to find the Avatar.”

“Look, let me save you the next six hours of your time,” Sokka said. “I don’t know where Aang is. I don’t know where he’s going next. I’m not helping you. Now go away and let me sleep!”

“No,” Zuko said, and jabbed the stupid toe of his stupid boot into Sokka’s side.

“You know what?” Sokka snapped. Sokka rolled to his knees. He knocked Zuko’s hand away before he could grab for him, and snatched the hilt of his knife from underneath his coat. Zuko’s eyes widened, and he flinched backwards. Immediately he brought his hands up into a bending stance, but he looked wary to come closer.

Good. Now that he was out of Sokka’s space, he could stay there. Sokka dug the knife into the wood of the deck, instead of into Zuko’s neck like he so clearly expected him to, and pettily held eye-contact as he dragged it from one side to the other.

“There,” Sokka said.

“Where did you get that?” Zuko snapped. Sokka waved the knife at him, taunting.

“I guess you weren’t very thorough when you searched me—hey!”

Zuko grabbed his forearm with one hand, so quickly that Sokka didn’t even get the chance to fight him for it, and pried the knife out of Sokka’s hand with the other. He tried to snatch it back, but Zuko only shoved him away.

“I’m not letting you have a weapon,” Zuko said. “You’ll cut our throats while we sleep.”

Sokka made an indignant noise, a bit offended, and absolutely not about to admit that the thought had crossed his mind.

He’d regret losing the knife later, probably, but he couldn’t bring himself to care now. Something about Zuko just got under his skin, and the way he glared at the line in the deck like it had personally insulted him? Absolutely worth it.

“What’s this supposed to be?” Zuko asked

“What does it look like? It’s a divider. I’ll stay on my side, you stay on yours,” Sokka said.

Zuko sputtered.

“You’re our prisoner. You don’t get a side,” Zuko said. “It’s our ship!”

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but we’re all trapped here,” Sokka said. “You can’t just decide I’m your prisoner. Maybe you’re my prisoner.”

“That’s stupid! You’re outnumbered!” Zuko shouted.

“Leave me out of this,” Iroh said serenely, still attempting to sleep, or pretending to.

“You’re the prisoner!” Zuko said, as though Iroh hadn’t interrupted. “You agreed when I untied you!”

“Well, that’s stupid,” Sokka said. “Who would actually agree to that?”

“Who—you did! You gave your word!” Zuko said.

Technically he’d said he understood, not that he agreed to Zuko’s terms. Somehow Sokka doubted he would appreciate the nuance. He seemed genuinely offended, fists clenched tightly. Despite himself, Sokka felt a little stab of guilt—

No! Sokka was not going to feel bad about refusing to be his prisoner!

“Hey, I didn’t ask for you to drag me onto your stupid raft, okay? Now if you’ll excuse me—” Sokka shoved Zuko’s foot pointedly over the midline, back onto their side of the divider, “—the day hasn’t started yet on this side of the raft, so I’m going back to sleep.”

“This is stupid! There are two of us, and only one of you,” Zuko said. “And it’s my ship! At the very least, we should get more space than you!”

Zuko slashed another mark in the wood, further still from the center mast, anger making his cut a bit crooked.

“Fine!” Sokka shouted. “Now leave me alone.”

“Fine!” Zuko shouted.

“Wonderful,” Iroh said. “Now if you boys don’t mind, perhaps we could have some quiet.”

Zuko was glaring at the line. He had been for the past half-hour, maybe realizing that his new mark was still far from an even, three-way split.

For royalty, he apparently wasn’t much of a negotiator.

Then again, the Fire Nation didn’t negotiate for anything. They just took what they wanted. Like the Earth Kingdom's land. Or the Avatar. Or Sokka’s knife.

Sokka glared at the knife in Zuko’s hand. He caught him staring, and turned to very pointedly jam it into the wood on the far corner of the raft, next to where his uncle was still trying to sleep. Sokka rolled his eyes away, before it could show on his face how truly irritated he was. He didn’t want to give Zuko the satisfaction. Sokka scrubbed his palm over the lump where the empty sheath sat on his thigh. He huffed, lying down.

The silence stretched thin, turning very quickly from tense to awkward. Sokka shifted uncomfortably. Not that he was uncomfortable with Zuko’s… Zuko’s pouting, because he wasn’t. He was just wide awake now, and annoyed that Zuko’s shouting had managed to wind him up so much. Iroh, infuriatingly, had started snoring again.

Zuko huffed, as though he’d shared the same thought. He threw himself down in the corner of the raft and jerked the knife out, then stabbed it back into place, a restless motion. He was going to ruin the blade that way. He probably didn’t care, since it didn’t belong to him. Sokka shot him another glare, but Zuko wasn’t even looking at him anymore, so it wasn’t at all satisfying.

He was the most obnoxious, infuriating person Sokka had ever met. He clenched his teeth and barely resisted saying something that was as likely to get him set on fire and thrown overboard as it was to make him feel better. Whatever. The less talking they did, the better. He was just going to ignore them until they reached the Earth Kingdom. He’d have until then to plan an escape.

Sokka’s stomach growled. He crossed his arms stubbornly and rolled over. He’d been too tired to even think about it, before, but now that they’d gotten through the storm, and he was relatively warm and dry, and had slept, his appetite was very loudly making itself known.

Iroh had offered him water last night before he’d fallen asleep, from a metal canteen packed into one of his bags. The cap had hissed faintly when he’d unscrewed it, and the water had been warm, heated from a frozen block between his hands.

He hadn’t offered him any food. He’d been tempted to complain—the Water Tribes would treat their prisoners much better, he was sure—but… Sokka hadn’t seen them eat, either, and had thought better of asking when they’d all gone to bed hungry.

He wished he’d eaten a bigger meal before the mission. Really, he wished that he had his bag, with his seal jerky carefully wrapped up in the bottom. He’d left it behind for the sake of their Fire Nation disguises. It was probably for the best, anyway. His bag probably would have met the same fate his boomerang did when the wave hit. At least maybe this way Katara could…

No, she’d probably just hold onto it as it was, and not even touch any of his stuff. The thought made his heart ache more than his stomach. He turned his gaze back out over the water.

They’d been sailing for a few days now, at least—the exact number was a bit fuzzy, because Sokka was missing some time there, and it wasn’t like he was going to ask Zuko about it. He’d watched the debris floating on the water thin as it drifted off or finally succumbed to the waves and sank, but a stubborn little cluster of junk seemed caught in the same current as they were.

The sea vultures had been distracted, before, when they were closer to where the ships went down. They were following them with lazy interest, now, the only living things not yet swallowed by the sea.

Most of what remained was from the Fire Nation ships. He’d seen a few Water Tribe blues, much less frequently, washed out to sea from the bay as the ocean spirit passed. Sokka regretted letting them pass by, but the sea had still been too choppy from the storm, and the wind had carried it off before he could get a closer look.

This time, he was ready for it, the colors snagging his eye even before his brain fully registered what he was looking at.

“Wait,” Sokka said, sitting up so quickly that it made his vision wobble, “is that…?”

Zuko tensed and looked up at the sky, immediately suspicious. Sokka waved his hand and pointed out over the water, toward the dark blue outline bobbing along on the waves.

Sokka shielded his eyes from the sun and squinted at the wreckage. It was so badly damaged that it took him a long moment to tell what he was looking at, but… yes, that was definitely part of a Northern Water Tribe boat, and it was close, drifting closer on a cross-current. He sucked in a breath, excitement bursting in his chest.

“Bring us closer,” Sokka said.

“No,” Zuko said. “This is my ship. You don’t get to make demands.”

“Would you just—” Sokka said. He groaned in frustration. “Why are you like this? Actually, I don’t care. I don’t need your permission.”

Sokka tugged his coat off over his head. The sea was calm, the wind hardly more than the occasional gentle breeze, but the cold stung his skin anyway. There were purple bruises blooming on his arms and shoulders, tinting green and yellow around the edges. He was sure his back looked worse, because it definitely felt worse as he peeled off his coat. He grit his teeth against the urge to shiver and quickly bunched his coat up to set down far from the edge. Spirits, this was such a stupid idea—

“What are you doing!” Zuko shouted.

Sokka glanced up. Zuko was so angry he was getting a little red in the face. Sokka rolled his eyes and ignored him, shucking his top layer along with his coat, until he was down to just his undershirt and pants. Spirits, it was cold. He made quick work of his boots, too, kicking them off into the pile.

Sokka considered the pants too, then decided against it. They were double-layered with a thick lining, so while it wouldn’t necessarily be comfortable to be wet, he wouldn’t freeze, either.

With any luck, Sokka wouldn’t have to stay wet for long, but he shuffled his coat aside where it would stay dry, just in case. He wasn’t going to risk freezing to death with a wet coat just because Zuko was too stubborn to warm him up. He’d be a little uncomfortable, but he’d live.

It was still way too cold for swimming, so he had to be quick.

He braced himself for the cold. Even ready for it, the shock punched the air out of him. Sokka surfaced quickly and took a gasping breath.

“You can’t escape that way,” Zuko shouted after him as he started to swim. “That boat’s not even seaworthy! You’ll drown for real, this time!”

Sokka ignored him. He wasn’t sure he could have answered, anyway. It felt like the cold had stolen the air from his lungs.

Zuko wasn’t kidding about the boat’s seaworthiness. The keel had cracked, swollen from the water leaking in. The rails on both sides had been torn off, probably from the force of the waves during the storm. It was a wonder it was still floating, maybe only saved because the mast had been torn off too, lightening the fishing boat’s load.

He breathed a sigh of relief. One peek over the side told him it hadn’t been occupied when the ocean spirit swept it away, seats covered with a waterproof animal hide to protect it from the snow. It must have been docked when the wave hit, because the whole housing for the line was torn off, the empty well of it pooling with slush.

Sokka pulled himself up over the side, arms shaky with the cold. It sank a few inches into the water, more so when he tried to rise onto his knees. He leaned over on his elbows and reached for the ties at the bottom of the boat. He had to scrub his palm over the edges to melt the ice on the ropes. His skin prickled from the friction. He had to watch his fingers undoing the knots, already numb, until he’d worked it loose enough to pull the whole cover off, ties and all, without tearing it. He grinned a little, triumphantly. Sokka’s side of the raft was done sleeping on the sea spray-damp wood, thank you very much.

He wrapped the hide up into a tight bundle, and then dug down beneath into the storage. The bait traps were empty. Sokka hissed a frustrated breath at that, but it was fine, because he could make do on his own. He pulled out the little wooden case at the bottom, wrapped tight in another turtle seal hide to keep it dry. He shook it a little and grinned as its contents clattered dully inside.

He wasn’t very graceful swimming back, sluggish from the cold and awkwardly trying to keep his spoils dry.

Zuko looked torn between being angry because he didn’t know what Sokka was doing, and angry because Sokka wasn’t listening to him, so—he looked completely normal. Iroh was watching them both with a concerned frown, apparently startled awake by Zuko’s screaming.

Sokka sloshed water onto the deck and over Zuko’s boots, entirely on purpose, when he hauled the case and the bundled hide up onto the raft.

“Don’t t-touch my stuff,” Sokka said. He snatched his knife from the corner of the raft where Zuko had left it, and then quickly ducked back before he could stop him. The swim back to the Water Tribe boat was much shorter this time, now that Zuko had stopped being stubborn and moved the raft to follow him.

There was a net hopelessly tangled on the inside of the boat. The corners were dotted with little decorative knots, hours of work to tie each one. If he’d been in the Northern Water Tribe longer, he might have recognized who it belonged to. Sokka cut each of them away one by one to loosen the tangles enough to pull the net free, a little sorry to ruin their hard work, but mostly regretting the way the un-anchored ends immediately started to unravel. He didn’t have much energy to wonder if he was cutting away the work of a dead man, when he was as close to being one himself. His fingers were clumsy as he gathered the loose ends in one fist, leaving only the slightest gap.

Sokka drew a deep breath.

The hull of the fishing boat was crusted with barnacle oysters. They were an annoying pest, clinging easily to the soft wood of the Water Tribe boats and making them drag in the currents. It was a pain to scrape them all off, especially so when the rest of the men had gone to war, and Sokka had been the only one left for the task, and hauling even their littlest fishing boats out of the water had been much harder with just him and Katara to manage it.

The important thing was that they were edible, though, and the gills were good for fishing bait—at this point, the plump little nuisances looked about as good as a steaming bowl of sea prunes.

His eyes stung from the salt. The knife bit into the pad of his thumb as he pried a particularly stubborn one loose, but the ache of the knick was blunted by the cold. Sokka dropped a few more into the net as he worked around toward the keel. He could still hear Zuko shouting at him, muffled beneath the surface. Sokka resisted the urge to roll his eyes, focusing on his task.

Sokka turned to swim back toward the raft, raised voices growing louder as he swam upward.

“—won’t save you if you’re drowning! Do you hear me! I’ll… is he… Uncle, do you think he’s—?” Sokka broke the surface, and Zuko cut himself off. He fixed Sokka with an absolutely withering glare.

“Get back on the raft,” he demanded, and grabbed him by the forearm to haul him out. Sokka let him, because he was starting to feel a little uncoordinated, and it was awkward wrestling with the net full of barnacle oysters without spilling them.

“D-dry me off,” Sokka said, once he was back on board. Zuko glared at him, and at the net—which was really just a tangle of strings at this point, barely holding together enough to carry the barnacle oysters. He would have to re-weave it. He crossed his arms.

“I’m not letting you have a weapon,” Zuko said, as though he hadn’t even heard him.

Sokka sighed. It took him a few tries to slip the knife back into its sheath with the way his hands were shaking. Shit, it was cold. He set it very pointedly on his side of the raft, next to his coat.

“Not that,” Zuko snapped.

And then Sokka realized what he was talking about, and that Zuko hadn’t listened to him. Sokka whirled around to find his case, and realized that Zuko had moved it over into the corner of his side of the raft.

“Hey!” Sokka said. He moved to stand, but Zuko side-stepped him.

“I told you n-not to touch my stuff!” Sokka said.

“I’m not letting you have a spear,” Zuko said.

“Too bad I d-don’t care whether you let me or not. And it’s… ugh, it’s for fishing!” Sokka said. “Now, d-dry me off!”

“Prince Zuko,” Iroh started.

Zuko whirled to jab a finger at him, “No spear.”

“I was merely going to suggest you let him warm up, first, before continuing your argument,” Iroh said. “He’s turning a bit blue.”

Zuko whipped back around to glare at Sokka, like it was his fault that it was freezing outside, never mind that Zuko could very easily solve that problem for him. Sokka rolled his eyes.

“You know, you’re the one who’s been c-chasing us around trying to kill us,” Sokka said. “I should be worried about your weapons.”

“I was never trying to kill you,” Zuko said. “I never would have bothered with you at all if you weren’t hiding the Avatar—”

“Are you going to dry me off or not?” Sokka asked.

“No,” Zuko said.

“Yes,” Iroh said.

“Uncle, would you stop—” Zuko snapped. He threw his hands out, and Sokka jerked back from the little involuntary flash of fire. Zuko clenched his fists immediately and the flames choked out. He caught Sokka’s eye, caught him stepping back, before he jerked his eyes away to glare at his uncle instead.

Zuko tucked his fists under his arms, defensive, and kept glaring at his uncle like he expected him to fight him. Sokka took another step back, frustrated at Zuko for being stubborn, and at himself for flinching.

“Ugh! You know what?” Sokka said. “Fine. Whatever. Fine!”

Sokka peeled his undershirt off and tossed it onto the deck with a wet splat. Zuko made a flustered sound, when the impact sprayed water all over his pants. Sokka ignored him and yanked his dry clothes back on. It stuck uncomfortably, and he was still freezing with his wet pants, but at least the biting wind wasn’t quite so bad anymore.

“Give me back my case,” Sokka said, tucking his hands under his arms.

Zuko’s eyes narrowed. “Only if you give us half of your catch.”

“That’s—fine,” Sokka said. It wasn’t like he was going to keep it all to himself, anyway. He shoved the net into the middle of the raft. A few of the barnacle oysters slid out the top, clattering as they skipped across the deck. Zuko blinked at them, and Sokka nearly burst out laughing at the look on his face. “You don’t know how to eat them, do you?”

Zuko scowled, and crossed his arms. “Well, how are you going to cook them?”

“Maybe you can eat them raw,” Sokka said. “Maybe I just won’t tell you.”

Zuko looked like he was three seconds away from setting something on fire. Sokka could practically imagine the steam coming off of him, and bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing at the thought. He didn’t want Zuko to set him on fire… even if the warmth was sounding pretty appealing right about now.

Sokka grinned, all teeth. Zuko’s eyebrow did an annoyed little twitch, and he knew that he’d won.

“I’ll teach you how to prepare them… if you dry me off first,” he said.

Barnacle oysters were, technically, edible raw. The texture was a little chewy, though, and poaching them helped to cook out some of the grit. Anyway, they were much better served warm, plumped up in a nice fish stock, or fried in tiger seal fat…

Of course, they didn’t have a nice fish stock, or tiger seal fat, or really anything to eat them with other than seawater and more seawater. Iroh did have a dented little tea kettle to boil water in, so that would have to do. So far, they’d only used it for boiling fresh water, but Sokka was glad Iroh had brought it along, even if Zuko had gotten a little shouty when he’d learned his uncle had remembered to grab a kettle, but hadn’t had time to grab any food.

“I’ll show you how to shuck them, if you think you can trust me with a knife,” Sokka said.

“I don’t,” Zuko said immediately, but he didn’t stop Sokka from drawing his knife out of his sheath.

“Well, I don’t really care,” Sokka said. He picked up the first oyster, and jammed the knife under the shell. “So just twist your knife like this…”

Iroh hummed with interest as Sokka demonstrated. Zuko shot him an annoyed look but, grudgingly drew his own knife and followed along.

At least, he tried to.

“Keep the gills when you’re cleaning them,” Sokka said. He glanced at Zuko’s hands, and the poor barnacle oyster falling victim to his first shucking attempt. He nudged Zuko’s fingers away. “I said keep the… no, the gills, the…” He pointed. “The gills. They make good bait, so don’t throw them out. Put them in a little pile, here.”

Zuko huffed, annoyed, but surprisingly didn’t complain as he carved around the gills. Sokka dug down to the bottom of the box. There was a little soapstone jar tucked away in the bottom corner. The jar was empty, and it smelled faintly greasy from whatever kind of bait it once held. He scraped the gills inside, the little cut on his thumb stung from the grit inside the shells. Then he slid over next to Zuko, and started shucking his own pile.

Split three ways, it only took them a few minutes to finish. Iroh was better at shucking than Zuko, probably because he wasn’t as prone to getting stabby when the blade stuck. Still, there were surprisingly few casualties—only a handful of weirdly diced ones, from Zuko’s first couple attempts, but otherwise all intact. Gran Gran would be proud.

“Grab that kettle,” Sokka said. He could just get it himself, but it was on their side of the raft, and Sokka was going to follow his own rules. Zuko rolled his eyes as he stood, and when he came back he sat very pointedly on his side of the line.

Sokka had to admit, it was a little weird actually asking Zuko to firebend, but he couldn’t complain about the results. This was a luxury that Sokka hadn’t really thought about before, but man, it must be nice to have warm food any time they wanted. Why couldn’t Aang have mastered firebending first? They could have been having hot meals this whole time, not just when there was enough space and time for Appa to land to build a campfire.

Zuko scooped up some water and settled with the kettle in his lap, hands pressed flat against its metal sides. Sokka scraped the cleaned barnacle oysters into the top. Zuko wasn’t exactly what Sokka would call a master of self-restraint, so he’d probably overcook them.

Sokka watched them until little bubbles climbed up the metal walls, and the edges of the barnacle oysters curled, half-expecting something to flare up into his face. He glanced at Zuko, but he was completely focused on the pot. His face was drawn in careful concentration, expression pinched around the fading bruises. Zuko inhaled steadily, breath steaming faintly as he exhaled, and the water began to gently boil.

So apparently the angry, shout-y firebending wasn’t the only kind he could do.

“That’s enough,” Sokka said.

Immediately, the bubbles stopped, and the steam curling out the top disappeared. Sokka poked the water with his pinky, but it was only luke-warm.

“Neat trick,” he said, and then picked out one third of the oysters with his fingers, ignoring how Zuko scrunched his nose at him. Sokka stuck two into his mouth while they were still warm. They tasted like the ocean, but only kind-of in the way they were supposed to.

It wasn’t the most dignified way to eat, not that Sokka cared. Zuko was probably used to fancy palace dining, though, with servants cooking for him and dishing his food, a far cry from picking vaguely gritty, unseasoned barnacle oysters out of a pot with his fingers. Zuko picked one and bit into it. Sokka snickered at the face he made.

“Not a fan?” Sokka asked.

“It’s fine,” Zuko said immediately. The face he made when he ate the next one was even funnier, very carefully stoic, as though not liking barnacle oysters was some vital weakness he needed to hide.

“My sister doesn’t like them that much, either,” Sokka said. “Although, that might just be because we ate them so much when I was a kid. My dad showed me how to harvest them when I was… five? Six maybe? And I was so excited to show off my new skills that I probably scraped every single barnacle oyster off of every single surface in the whole village. Anyway, we ate basically nothing but barnacle oysters for a week straight, and then Katara threw up.”

Zuko barked a laugh at that, which startled a laugh out of Sokka too, because—what the hell? He didn’t even know Zuko was capable of laughing, except maybe in an evil, maniacal way.

He caught himself a moment later, like he’d just now realized he shouldn’t be laughing with the enemy. Sokka grinned and popped another one in his mouth. Zuko quickly picked out a few more oysters, curling his fingers around them like he was trying to hide them from view.

“Here, Uncle,” he said, handing the kettle over. Sokka watched Iroh peer into the kettle. He picked out exactly one-third, and handed the kettle back. Zuko scowled, and hesitated, and finally took the last two from the bottom.

“I still like them, though,” Sokka said after a moment, when they’d dropped into silence to eat.

The quiet wasn’t exactly comfortable, but it wasn’t as bad as it had been when Zuko was shouting, or angrily stabbing barnacle oysters with a knife. Still, Sokka wracked his brain for something to say to fill the silence.

“So what happened to your face?” Sokka asked.

Zuko froze. He shot Sokka an absolutely withering glare, and the change was so abrupt from their previous truce that for a moment Sokka was startled.

Oh. Sokka flushed. He’d thought he’d meant—that was so rude, he wouldn’t just—

“The bruises! I meant the bruises,” Sokka added. Zuko kept scowling at him, but Sokka thought he might have relaxed a bit, too, a bit more like the same grumpy jerk he was used to, and a bit less like a pissed off snow leopard fox.

Zuko didn’t answer him, though. He just kept glaring, until Sokka’s embarrassment had faded into awkwardness. It seemed like Zuko was just going to keep ignoring Sokka and let him stew in the uncomfortable silence, but—

Zuko huffed.

“Pirates,” he said.

Well that sure wasn’t what Sokka had expected him to say.

“Sounds like there’s a story there,” he said.

“Not really,” Zuko said. “Zhao hired them to kill me. They blew up my ship. I lived.”

“That’s stupid,” Sokka said. What kind of idiot would hire pirates to kill their prince, and not expect any consequences? Maybe he was lucky, being taken by the ocean spirit. Sokka doubted the Fire Lord would have mercy on a man who tried to murder his own son, admiral or not.

“He hates—hated me. I don’t know why,” Zuko said.

“Well, it couldn’t possibly have been your sparkling personality,” Sokka said.

“Shut up,” Zuko grumbled, but there was no heat to the words. It was almost… not quite friendly, but something close. Sokka supposed eating together when you were starving could put anyone in a good mood. Still, it made him think, maybe, if they weren’t Fire Nation, maybe—

Well, they were Fire Nation. It would be hard to forget that.

It was significantly warmer with the turtle seal hide cover laid out over the deck. The hide wasn’t quite wide enough to stretch across the whole raft, but it was pretty big. Sokka was a nice guy, so he lashed it down roughly in the middle of their little divider-line, tied off against the wind.

Zuko continued to wake him at unreasonable hours of the morning, sometimes before the sun had even risen, and every morning Sokka reminded him that no, he wasn’t lying about knowing where Aang was, and no, he wasn’t helping him anyway.

It was infuriating, but the fishing was better in the morning, at least, and Zuko was blissfully quiet afterwards, meditating with his uncle, both of their faces turned toward the sunrise.

Sokka hadn’t caught anything the first day, or the day after that. Collecting barnacle oysters only worked for as long as there was debris for them to attach themselves to, and that were growing more and more rare as they drifted into the open ocean.

He finally speared something on the third day. It wasn’t small, but it might as well have been, after he had split the catch three ways. It didn’t matter—even if Sokka could keep it for himself without having a mutiny on his hands, he wouldn’t.

He cleaned the fish and saved the guts. Zuko had even stopped complaining about the smell, which Sokka thought they could owe to hunger overriding his natural instinct to be a contrary jerk. It was going to be a long voyage, if this was all they could do for food, and anything that would give them an advantage was worth trying.

“What was your plan for food, exactly?” Sokka asked, once he had divided the fish into three equal pieces, with Zuko supervising over his shoulder the entire time. Zuko passed the first piece to his uncle, and then pressed the second one between his hands until it started to sizzle.

Sokka didn’t think he’d ever smelled something as delicious as that piece of plain, unseasoned fish.

“We were going to figure it out,” Zuko said.

“Fasting and meditation,” Iroh said, blowing on his piece of fish to cool it. “This is much better. Thank you.”

Zuko handed the cooked fish over to Sokka. He yelped and fumbled the freshly seared piece into his lap. Sokka hissed at him, sucking his burnt fingers, and Zuko smirked as he picked up the last raw piece, fresh flames curling in his palms.

Sokka re-wove the net into a slightly smaller, definitely uglier net and hung it off the back of the raft. Maybe if they found somewhere with better fishing, they could fill the net with a live catch, fresh fish to tide them over when the waters got lean again. That was assuming they could find enough to eat to actually have leftovers. Considering their luck so far, Sokka wasn’t going to hold his breath.

Sokka was used to skipping meals—had been used to it, especially in the winters after the men left. When they’d joined Aang it was more practical—no money to waste, and no time to stop with Prince Zuko so hot on their heels.

He didn’t think he’d ever get used to the gnawing emptiness, though. He kind of wished he would get used to it—at least then, he could ignore it, instead of getting distracted thinking about the hunger, or his next meal, or thinking about not thinking about it. He kept catching himself half-way to a complaint before he remembered that Katara wasn’t here to listen to him whine, and Zuko and Iroh wouldn’t want to hear it.

It was such a clear day that the sunlight was distracting, so bright off the water that Sokka was reminded of being dazzled off fresh, white snow. He was the only one that seemed to be bothered, though, one hand over his eyes to block the glare.

Sokka had the other hand loosely wrapped around one of the lines, just in case the waves got any rougher than they already were. The wind was strong today, too rough for fishing, but it was surprisingly warm.

Sokka knew that wasn’t a good thing. That meant they’d drifted far enough south for the weather to change, closer to the Earth Kingdom, but Sokka was just glad to have one less thing to complain about. He was warm, and only the manageable kind of hungry that he could ignore if he had something to distract himself with.

There weren’t a ton of distractions, when it was too windy to spearfish, so he’d turned to his unwilling companions.

“—so then we all climbed into the mail chutes, which, by the way, are about a zillion feet tall, and have absolutely no guardrails. I mean, I guess they don’t really expect people to be riding down them, but still, accidents happen, you’d think they’d at least have something to keep people from falling,” Sokka said. “Or mail from falling? I wouldn’t want one of those stone carts falling on my head.”

He paused, considering whether this counted as the sort of state secrets he didn’t want to be spilling to the Fire Nation. No, right? What were they going to do with intelligence on their postal system? Anyway, Aang seemed pretty confident that Omashu was untouchable, and even if the Fire Nation did try something, it wasn’t like a crazy strong bender like Bumi would just sit back and do nothing. So.

“So anyway,” Sokka continued. “Of course we’re going way too fast—”

“Are you going to keep talking until we reach the Earth Kingdom?” Zuko asked.

Sokka cracked his fingers apart so he could squint at him. He knew he had a tendency to ramble, but he was bored, and hungry.

“Maybe,” Sokka said. “What else is there to do?”

“Be quiet?” Zuko suggested.

“How about you stop eavesdropping,” Sokka said. “I’m talking to your uncle. This is a private conversation.”

“How am I supposed to—”

Sokka turned very pointedly to Iroh, ignoring the rest of Zuko’s complaint. Zuko’s face turned a shade redder.

“So, what’s it like in the Fire Nation?” Sokka asked. Iroh at least didn’t seem to mind the conversation, or the sudden topic change. He leaned forward and stroked his beard.

“It is a beautiful nation,” Iroh said. “With a rich history of—”

“Yeah, yeah. But what’s it really like?” Sokka insisted.

“Humid, mostly. And the citizens are very,” Iroh paused, considering, “structured.”

“So it’s miserable and uptight,” Sokka translated.

“Better than freezing and undisciplined,” Zuko grumbled. Sokka scoffed. He was not going to rise to that obvious bait, because he was not even talking to Zuko, anyway.

Iroh had pulled the sun compass from his sleeve again. The compass’s dial cast a long, stark shadow under the midafternoon sun. Sokka leaned forward for a better look as Iroh twisted the dial, aligning the markings with the shadow.

“Will you show me how to use that?” Sokka asked.

“No,” Zuko said.

“Of course,” Iroh said, laying the sun compass out on his palm. “It’s really quite simple.”

“Uncle,” Zuko said, exasperated. “You can’t teach our prisoner how to navigate.”

“I already know how to navigate,” Sokka said testily. “I’ve just never seen a compass like that before.”

“Don’t worry, Prince Zuko,” Iroh said. “So long as I keep the compass on my person, what’s the harm? It’s not as though he would steal it from me.”

It’s not as though he can steal it from me, Sokka thought that tone implied.

It wasn’t like Sokka wanted to steal from Iroh, anyway. He was just curious, and bored. He hadn’t been dwelling on the way the weather was growing steadily warmer, or how long it had been since they’d last seen land, or the way they’d navigated away from the last remnants of the Northern Water Tribe days ago. And he certainly hadn’t been thinking that if anyone had been looking for him, they would have found him by now.

Sokka edged closer, and Iroh smiled at him indulgently as he held the compass to the light.

Sokka stared at a fluffy cloud, slightly fluffier than the other cloud he’d been staring at for the past hour. Variety. He sure was spoiled.

How many days had it been? Spirits, he’d lost count.

Sokka groaned and rolled over. He felt like a sea prune that had been left to dry in the sun. He licked his stinging lips and tasted metal.

“Do you want to play a game?” he asked.

In a testament to how truly bored he must be, Zuko only squinted at him for a moment before asking, “...what game?”

Sokka shrugged. “How about a guessing game. I’m thinking of something...”

“Ocean. Raft. Cloud,” Zuko said.

“Yeah, maybe that’s too easy,” he allowed. Sokka cast his eyes around for inspiration. He hummed. They didn’t really have a lot of options, or much room to move around. He was too tired to do much moving, anyway.

“We could,” Sokka trailed off. He picked at one of the sinew ties on the hide and unwound it. “We could play a string game.”

“That sounds stupid,” Zuko said.

“You’re such a jerk. You don’t even know what it is yet,” Sokka said.

Zuko paused. “Go on, then.”

Sokka looped the string around his hands. How did this go again? It had been a long time since he’d played. He tried to remember Gran Gran showing him and Katara when they were kids...

After a moment he offered it up for inspection. “See? You can make little string figures with the...” he trailed off. Zuko was staring at him blankly. He gestured at the shapes with his pinkies where he wasn’t holding the string, and added, “It’s a tuna whale and a snow leopard fox.”

“Hm,” Zuko said, wholly unimpressed. Sokka bunched the string up and threw it at him.

“Whatever! I don’t know why I even bothered,” Sokka said. “I’ll just go back to staring blankly at the sky. Even that’s more entertaining than you.”

“If I may offer a suggestion,” Iroh said. “Perhaps a nice game of Pai Sho.”

Zuko groaned. Sokka perked up, doubly intrigued after Zuko’s reaction.

“How do you play?” Sokka asked.

“I’m afraid I don’t have a game board, since my traveling kit met an unfortunate end with our ship. But I’m sure we can make do,” Iroh said.

They’d marked out the vague outline of the board on the deck with Sokka’s knife, and broken up little pieces of barnacle oyster shells for tiles. It took Iroh a while to explain the rules with their makeshift setup, and they had to use their imaginations in deciding which bits of shell represented which tiles, considering they all basically looked the same.

Iroh only had one real piece, a lotus tile that he produced from his pocket for Sokka to inspect.

“Pai Sho is a game of both strategy and chance,” Iroh said. “Though I have found patience to be an invaluable asset when facing a particularly formidable opponent.”

Well, that certainly explained why Zuko didn’t like to play, considering that he didn’t seem to have a patient bone in his body. Sokka turned the tile over in his hands, running his thumb over the delicately carved edge. It was a bit worn, like he’d had it for a long time. He wondered how often Iroh played.

Sokka handed the lotus tile back to him. He considered the board again. Iroh had described a few possible opening moves, and how they might affect gameplay. Sokka started with something conservative, considering he was still learning. Iroh hummed his approval.

“How is that fun for you?” Zuko asked. Despite his lack of enthusiasm when Iroh suggested Pai Sho, he’d been watching them the whole time they set the game board up. He squinted at Sokka’s first move, the little pile of shells by his knee, and then rolled his eyes away.

“Would you like to play the next round, Prince Zuko?” Iroh asked.

“I’d rather play with the string,” Zuko said.

Sokka lost the first three games. He won the fourth, and then proceeded to lose several more.

The silence they settled into was almost comfortable. It was… nice.

Sokka watched the bird wheeling around above them, dread sinking in between his ribs. It was the first bird he’d seen in over a week, ever since they’d gotten far enough from land that the sea vultures had given up on trying to wait them out. Sokka turned then and looked at Iroh. He sighed and shook his head.

Zuko was watching it with him, his face an unreadable mask. If he had any hesitance, any sympathy at all, he didn’t show it.

“You’re tired,” Zuko said plainly, like they weren’t all tired, and thirsty, and starving. “This doesn’t have to be a fight.”

I will make it a fight if it needs to be, his tone clearly said. Sokka turned back toward the sky. It was a cranefish, he thought. They tended to stick to the coasts, hunting mostly in brackish waters.

They’d probably spot land in another couple hours, if the wind held. Hours, then, until they were close enough for Sokka to swim for shore. If he tried...

No, he’d never make it. Zuko was right. He was tired.

He could try to fight. Sokka eyed Iroh again, calm, a look of vague disapproval on his face, but still watching the exchange silently as it played out. Even if he didn’t approve—he’d take Zuko’s side.

(Katara could have fought them, maybe waterbended her way to shore, escaped…)

Sokka was just… normal. He couldn’t take two firebenders, even if they were tired and thirsty and half-starved. He grit his teeth.

Sokka glared at Zuko and didn’t respond. He just offered his wrists while Zuko turned to cut a length of rope to size.

What a waste of a perfectly good net.

Chapter Text

Sokka eyed the harbor inlet with dread. They’d been following the coastline for hours, with nothing but stark palisades for miles and miles, blanketed in a thick forest of fiery orange trees, and nowhere for them to safely land. Iroh and Zuko had been strangely unbothered by the harsh landscape. They’d seemed almost excited to see it, though Sokka couldn’t fathom why.

He understood now.

The scent of cherry blossoms drifted out over the water, errant petals churning in the rough surf along the shoreline. The bay was edged with sharp rocks, dampening the tug of the currents. There were a few iguana seals sunning themselves on the rocks as they entered the harbor. Just the sight of them made Sokka’s gut twist with hunger, but the moment the animals spotted the raft they disappeared beneath the waves.

There was a building peeking out over the ridge at the top of the waterfall. Sokka’s heart sank.

That was Fire Nation architecture. Those were Fire Nation ships in the harbor, too, docked along the wharf—not military, but unmistakable in craftsmanship, anyway. They’d reached the Earth Kingdom, clearly, but whether it was bad luck for Sokka or good planning from Iroh, they’d landed along the occupied territories on the northernmost coasts—Fire Nation colonizers on Earth Kingdom soil.

He’d stripped out of his heaviest layers days ago, when the weather had warmed enough that his coat was impractical. Even further south, though, the wind on the open sea had been biting. Now, here on the very edge of the coast, as close to the North Pole as they could get on the Earth Kingdom mainland, the cliffs blocked the worst of the high winds. He’d already begun to sweat.

Or maybe that wasn’t from the heat. Sokka shifted uncomfortably. At least his hands were tied in front of him this time.

“We’re quite lucky,” Iroh said amiably, as the currents carried them in toward the wharf. “This resort is famous for their hospitality.”

“Yeah. Some luck,” Sokka grumbled, unable to help himself.

Iroh’s attention slid over to him, then, eyes soft, almost sympathetic. Sokka scoffed and shook his head. He frowned resolutely at his bound hands, instead. Zuko glared at him—just to be a jerk, Sokka supposed—but he quickly turned his attention back to the sails.

“This isn’t a vacation,” Zuko said. “We’re leaving as soon as we have the supplies.”

They’d arrived at a good time, with the currents drawing them easily into the bay. Good for Zuko and Iroh, anyway, though not so good for Sokka. If they’d been a few hours later, they’d have lost the favor of the currents, and they might have had to wait until nightfall for the tides to shift again to avoid bashing themselves on the rocks.

Sokka might have had more time, then, to think and plan his escape.

As it was, they made their way easily to the docks. Compared to the other ships, their raft was laughably small. They looked ridiculous, floating up to the dock on what was basically just a rotting pile of driftwood at this point, lashed together with some mismatched rope, moving under the power of a single tattered sail and, Sokka suspected, the excess air blowing out of Zuko’s gigantic head.

Zuko acted like he didn’t even notice how absurd the situation was—if anything he seemed to wind even tighter when the doors to the boathouse at the end of the pier swung open, and a few curious spectators poked outside. The raft had barely come within reach of the dock before he was hauling Sokka to his feet.

Zuko dragged him off the raft by the elbow. Sokka stumbled on the edge of the slick dock as he pulled him along a bit too quickly.

“I can walk on my own,” Sokka said. He tugged back, insistently.

“I know you can,” Zuko said. He tightened his grip. “That’s what I’m worried about.”

There were several men watching their approach at the end of the dock, eyeing them with a mixture of curiosity and suspicion. Compared to the rest of the docked ships—a merchant vessel, a fishing boat, and what looked like a passenger ship—their tiny, dilapidated raft was probably a strange sight. The boathouse door swung open again, more forcefully this time, and the harbormaster stormed out.

“Hey!” he shouted, irritation dripping in his tone. “You can’t dock here without...”

The harbormaster trailed off when his eyes landed on Zuko’s face. He glanced between him and Iroh and back again, and then he went very, very pale, realizing who he’d just been shouting at. He dropped into a deep bow. Zuko cut him off before he could finish his apologies.

“Fetch the owner of this resort,” Zuko said.

He dragged Sokka past without stopping, just assuming the man would do as he was told. Spirits, he was the worst, just shouting at people and bossing everyone around. Sokka tried to catch the man’s eye as he passed, but he wouldn’t look at him. The men at the end of the dock were the same, all bowing politely, all very pointedly pretending not to see him, like their prince really was just here for a spa visit.

They followed the winding staircase up the cliffside. The stairs were slippery with scattered cherry blossoms, bunched in thick piles and damp with the cast-off spray from the waterfall. Zuko kept a vice grip on his arm the whole way, which Sokka was honestly a little grateful for, though he would never admit it. It was a near sheer drop onto the rocks and trees below, and Zuko walked with himself between Sokka and the trees on the other side, like he didn’t fully trust him not to try to make a break for it into the rough cliffside forest.

Which… Sokka would have, if he’d had the chance. Zuko glared at him the whole time, watching him like a hawk as though he’d read Sokka’s mind.

He’d never outrun Zuko with his hands tied, anyway.

The stairs ended in a long wooden bridge. Zuko crossed it without waiting for his uncle to catch up to them. The resort itself was built on the river, the dull roar of the falls muffled behind its walls.

Positioned where it was against the stark cliffside, it almost reminded Sokka of the hamlet villages on the western coasts of the South Pole, winter homes built on stilts along the cliffside. There was no comforting familiarity in the resort’s architecture, though.

Maybe it could have been beautiful, if the sight of it didn’t fill him with anger for what the coastal community might have been, decades ago, before the Fire Nation. The resort was like a wound on the mountainside—a growth that didn’t belong.

The other resort patrons stared much more openly than the men on the docks had. Sokka tried to gauge their reactions, the ones who seemed intrigued by his presence, the ones who shot him pitying looks. Would any of them help him, when he made his escape?

They quickly glanced away when Zuko turned their way, so… no, probably not.

Zuko half-lead, half-dragged him past hot springs and cherry blossoms, past men with their sleeves tied back giving massages who stopped to stare surreptitiously over their tables. Sokka didn’t blame them—they must look terrible, after three weeks at sea, and this place looked fancy in a way that probably didn’t cater to any old salvage that had washed up on their shores, and it must have been even stranger to see their prince so out of sorts.

There was a woman with a high topknot at the front desk who bowed so low when they approached that her forehead nearly grazed the wood. She kept her eyes down, even after she’d risen from her bow, in a way that clearly showed that she was pretending not to see what was happening.

Sokka scowled at her, not that she would know.

“Your highness,” she said. “We’ve prepared the royal suite for your arrival—”

“No,” Zuko said, cutting her off. “I want the room on the second floor, on the east side of the building.” He fixed Sokka with a firm, meant-to-be-intimidating look, which meant this was his strategic, escape-proof choice.

Sokka scoffed, and pointedly glared back. Like that was going to stop him.

The woman hesitated, then cleared her throat.

“Of course,” she said, as a second woman scurried out from behind the counter and disappeared up the stairs. There was a booking calendar on the desk that the woman pulled closer. She struck the most recent note from her ledger, and moved to mark his reservation—

Zuko dropped his hand over the page, halting her brush. For a moment he only stared at it, idly smoothing the edge with his thumb.

Sokka leaned over his shoulder to look, but… all she had written was the date.

Zuko caught the movement, caught Sokka eyeing him curiously, and scowled.

“Let’s go,” he said, shoving Sokka toward the stairs with a little more force than necessary. Zuko was annoyed, maybe, that he’d wasted so much of his precious Avatar hunting time trying not to die out on the open ocean.

Good, Sokka thought vindictively. They led them to a room on the second floor. Three women bowed out the door just as they arrived, looking terrified at having been caught in the act, like Zuko would expect the room to have been ready for him before he’d even demanded it.

The room was huge—much too big for three people. Zuko seemed almost annoyed by it, like he didn’t know what to do with the deference.

“I’m going to go talk to the staff,” Zuko said. “You’re going to stay here. And when I come back, you’re going to tell us where to go next.”

“How many times do I have to tell you, I don’t know where Aang is headed!” Sokka said.

“You’ve had plenty of time to think about it,” Zuko said. “Make an educated guess.”

Sokka grit his teeth. The problem was that he did have some idea of what Aang might do next. He needed an earthbending teacher. Knowing Aang… he’d probably want to choose someone he trusted. From here, it was a long way overland to Omashu, but with a flying bison they could make the trip fairly quickly. It made sense that Aang would ask his friend for help.

He’d never tell Zuko that, though. He’d throw himself back in the ocean first.

Zuko’s eyes narrowed in suspicion, like he could tell what thought had just crossed his mind. Sokka just glared back, stubbornly. He had to know that Sokka wasn’t going to make it easy for him.

“Look,” Sokka said. “We made it to the Earth Kingdom. You would have starved without me...”

Zuko scoffed. “We would have been fine.”

“You can just let me go,” Sokka said. “We’ll call it even.”

“Call what even? I don’t owe you anything,” Zuko said. “You would have drowned if I hadn’t pulled you out of the ocean.”

“We don’t have to be enemies,” Sokka said. At least, it had seemed that way before, when they were still on the open ocean.

Sokka felt immediately stupid for saying it, worse when Zuko frowned, almost confused. The look on his face made his stomach churn with embarrassment, then anger. Spirits, Sokka was just—stupid.

It had almost seemed… like maybe they were starting to get along on the raft. Well, obviously not. They’d spent weeks together cooperating, and not killing each other, and Zuko had gone and ruined it, like their careful truce didn’t mean anything to him.

Sokka was annoyed with himself, too, for laughing with them, and telling them about himself, when Zuko—

Whatever. He didn’t care. He just needed to get out of here.

“You’re right. We don’t have to be enemies,” Zuko agreed. “But I have to capture the Avatar. If you would just cooperate, then we could let you go.”

“You don’t need to capture Aang,” Sokka said.

“I have to—” Whatever Zuko was going to say, he cut himself off. He clenched his jaw and half-turned away, so that Sokka couldn’t read his expression anymore past his stiff scarred side. “You wouldn’t understand. This has nothing to do with you, so why won’t you just…?”

Zuko made a frustrated noise and turned toward him again. He grabbed Sokka by the sleeve, dragging him up on the balls of his feet.

“If you tell me where the Avatar is, I can let you go,” he said. “Isn’t that what you want? Don’t you want to go home? I can… I can even help you find your sister.”

“No,” Sokka said.

Zuko dropped his sleeve like it had burned him. He grit his teeth.

“Then you’re a fool,” Zuko spat, and then he turned on his heel to leave. He slammed the door shut behind him, turned the lock with force, and stomped away.

Sokka waited just long enough for Zuko’s footsteps to recede down the hall, and then he went for the window. He eased open the shutter just enough to peek outside. It was a sheer drop to the courtyard below, but he was only on the second floor. He… might be able to climb down with his hands tied, if he had to, but he doubted he could do it quietly.

Zuko had locked him inside, but more importantly, he’d be pretty conspicuous trying to escape, half-starved with his hands tied in front of him. Too bad Zuko had wised up and taken his knife, and his spear, and managed to find the sharp little piece of shell he’d tucked into his boot for safekeeping.

There was a bath off to the side of the room. After so long adrift at sea, a warm bath sounded amazing. He couldn’t exactly undress with his hands tied though, so he settled for scrubbing the worst of the salt and grime off with a washcloth, awkwardly twisting his bound wrists to reach. He still felt much better, after, as much as he would have loved to sit in the bath and soak.

There was a window in the bathroom, too. It overlooked the river, and was a much steeper drop, right up along the edge of the falls. Trying to climb down that way would be a good way to drown, and Sokka wasn’t particularly interested in doing that again anytime soon.

He did a quick sweep for anything useful, but there was nothing, just blankets and futon rolls. The bathroom was just towels, fancy soaps and oils, but even that did him no good—his wrists were tied too tightly to slip out of his bindings. The only other door in the room led to a closet, empty save for a thin spare blanket, and a stack of spa robes like he’d seen the staff wearing. Sokka shut it again, frustrated.

He was going to get out of here, he just needed to figure out how. This might be his only chance, while Zuko was distracted with securing himself a new ship, or supplies, or whatever it was he planned on doing. Zuko could be contacting his father right now, for all Sokka knew, and he didn’t want to stick around long enough to learn what that meant for him. He needed a plan. He needed—

Someone knocked on the door. Sokka stared at it. Who knocked on a prisoner’s door?

“Uh,” Sokka said. “Come… in?”

It was Iroh, looking as cheerful as ever with a tray balanced in one hand. The door slid aside easily, so he must have found himself a key. He shuffled inside and pushed it closed behind him, then made himself right at home. He gestured for Sokka to join him at the low table, like that was a perfectly normal thing to do.

“Are you hungry?” Iroh asked.

Sokka was hungry. They’d eaten nothing but unseasoned barnacle oysters and fish and more fish for weeks, meals spaced out too far, split three ways and much too small for anyone. Sokka eyed his tray a bit reluctantly. It was piled with rice and vegetables and a curry with meat, real chunks of meat, floating in a reddish-brown gravy. Just looking at it made his mouth water.

Iroh smiled at him warmly and set the bowl down without waiting for Sokka’s response.

He was tempted to be stubborn, but the urge passed quickly. After weeks on a raft with nothing to eat but what they managed to catch for themselves, Sokka wasn’t about to turn down a meal. It was delicious, rich and spicy and so much better than charred, unseasoned fish. He felt like crying, a little. He was not going to.

Iroh settled down across from him, his own plate much lighter—six pinkish shells, settled in a half circle, with a shucking knife balanced on the edge.

“Hermit oysters,” Iroh said. “Not quite as sweet, I’m afraid, but I seem to have developed a taste for them, anyway.”

Sokka eyed Iroh suspiciously, shoveling curry into his mouth. He didn’t know what this was about.

Well, Iroh had seemed reluctant to go along with Zuko tying him up again. Actually, he’d seemed a bit unhappy about it the first time, too.

He hadn’t stopped him, though, so Sokka didn’t really care how he felt about it. He shoveled another spoonful of rice into his mouth. Whatever. Iroh could make whatever excuses he wanted, or try to convince him to go along with Zuko, or who knew what else. Sokka didn’t care, because Sokka was getting out of here, and he was doing it with a full stomach.

Iroh seemed content to wait until Sokka was scraping the bottom of his bowl with his spoon before he spoke again. He set his own plate aside, hermit oysters still untouched.

“Are you finished?” Iroh asked. “If you’re still hungry, there’s plenty more in the kitchen.”

He was still hungry.

“What do you want?” Sokka asked instead.

Iroh was probably just… here to keep an eye on him or something, to keep him from trying to escape while Zuko was off contacting his father, or securing them a ship. For all Sokka knew, he was contracting an airship, because Sokka had heard rumors of the Fire Nation expanding their fleets ever since their attack on the Northern Air Temple. If he did that he could get to Omashu as the crow-finch flies, within a matter of days even. Sokka could not let Zuko know where to find Aang.

“Are you certain?” Iroh asked. Sokka glared at him.

He sighed heavily, with a patience that betrayed how unbothered he was by teenage glaring, which only made Sokka want to glare harder.

“Today is… a difficult day, for my nephew,” he said.

“Seems to be going pretty well for him so far,” Sokka said.

Iroh considered that. He hummed, quietly, and pulled the pai sho tile from his sleeve. He ran his thumb along the worn edge, contemplative as he considered his next words. Sokka drew himself up a little straighter, because even tied up he wasn’t going to just sit here and accept being their prisoner. Sokka was the son of a chief. He was a warrior.

He was not going to be cooperative, that was for sure.

“I know that to outsiders, my nephew’s actions can be difficult to understand,” Iroh said. “But there is good inside him.”

Sokka couldn’t help but laugh. It sounded a little hysterical, even to his own ears.

“Good inside him isn’t enough! He wants to ransom me for the Avatar,” Sokka said. “He wants to turn the world’s last hope over to the Fire Lord! You saw what they did at the North Pole. To—to Yue. How could anyone still be on their side!”

“Prince Zuko has had a very difficult life...”

“A difficult…?” He had to bite his tongue to keep from screaming in frustration, because that was just—

Sokka didn’t care how difficult his life was. Sokka had a difficult life, and he’d managed not to be angry and obsessive and hell bent on ruining the whole spirits-damned world. Sokka still cared.

“You know what? Forget your nephew,” Sokka said. “I don’t care about him. You could untie me right now.”

Frustration bubbled in Sokka’s chest as Iroh gave him a steady look. He frowned slightly. Sokka had only really known him for a few weeks, but… Iroh had been kind, on the raft. Nice to talk to, through the boredom of days and days on the water.

He was also the Dragon of the West. Sokka hadn’t forgotten that.

So it was stupid, how fiercely disappointment clenched in his gut when Iroh sighed and shook his head.

“If I let you go now, Prince Zuko will never trust me again,” Iroh said plainly.

“Good!” Sokka shouted. “Maybe if you stop enabling him he’ll just give up and go home, and we won’t have to deal with him anymore!”

Something in Iroh’s expression twitched, just barely. In the absence of his own shouting, the quiet in the room felt heavy. Sokka’s chest heaved a little. He hadn’t noticed how worked up he was getting, only that the frustration coiling leaden in the pit of his stomach was almost making him regret eating so quickly.

The silence stretched uncomfortably. Good. Sokka hoped he was uncomfortable. He deserved it.

“My nephew is… not likely to give up so easily,” Iroh said at length. “Not without good reason.”

There were a million good reasons to give up, but they would only work on a good person who actually cared about the world. Sokka didn’t know why he was even trying to reason with them at all.

(Except that he did. He remembered how they were on the raft, but that had been a different world. That had ended the moment they’d spotted that cranefish, along with any chance of them ever—)

The sound of shouting drifted up from the courtyard, muffled through the closed shutter.

Iroh glanced at the window and sighed gustily.

“If you’ll excuse me,” he said.

Sokka stayed stubbornly silent, until Iroh had risen from his seat, and slid the door shut behind him. After a long moment of hesitation, Sokka heard the lock turn again, and only then did he relax. He scowled back at the spot that Iroh had just been sitting, as another bout of shouting pushed in through the windows.

At least Sokka had eaten. Iroh had left his own tray as well, hermit-oysters untouched, and...

Sokka sucked in a breath, excitement caught in his throat. Iroh had left his plate, with the hermit-oyster shucking knife poised daintily on the edge. He glanced quickly back at the door, but Iroh had closed it behind him, leaving him alone.

Sokka crept quietly around the table, careful to keep his footsteps light. He didn’t know how far Iroh had gone, whether he’d gone all the way downstairs, or if they’d be able to hear his footfalls through the creaking floorboards. He could still hear Zuko’s voice through the window, still shouting at someone.

The knife wasn’t very sharp. He had to hold it at an awkward angle to slide the blade beneath the ropes around his wrist. The chaffed marks from those first days on the water had long since faded, but the skin on his wrist was angry red again from struggling. He had to twist his hand at an awkward angle to get enough leverage. It took way too long, sawing against the ropes with his gaze focused carefully on the door, just waiting for Iroh to realize his mistake, or for Zuko to stop causing whatever scene he was causing in the spa and wander back upstairs. Sokka grit his teeth and ignored how the knife bit against his palm, drawing a hairline cut over the meat of his thumb because…

The rope finally gave, slack enough now that Sokka could shake his hands loose. His fingers prickled as the blood returned to them after so long pulling the ropes taught, and he almost fumbled the knife. Sokka stuffed it into his pocket.

Zuko’s shouting abruptly cut off. Did that mean Iroh was outside, now? He considered the window, to check whether they were both out there… No, he couldn’t risk them seeing him, trying to lift the shutter enough to peek outside. Sokka crept to the door instead. He pressed his ear against where the sliding door met the frame. The hallway was quiet.

The door was locked. Sokka snorted, hardly able to hold it in, because this wasn’t a prison, it was a spa, and the door was one of those stupid mullberry-shrub paper things that the Fire Nation loved, not the heavy wood and stone he’d seen throughout the Earth Kingdom. It was surprisingly sturdy, covered in some kind of resin to protect the paper thin material. Sokka cut a small slit with his shucking knife and pushed his thumb through the paper to widen the gap. He reached around for the latch.

The door slid aside easily, opening into an empty hallway.

Sokka paused briefly to change. He hated having to leave his clothes behind, but there was no way he could sneak through a Fire Nation resort looking so distinctly like a Water Tribesman. He brushed his thumb along the mended seam on his pants, where Katara had stitched the tear for him. He wished he had a bag to keep his stuff—but he couldn’t, and wasting time getting sentimental was only going to get him caught.

Sokka shoved his fur coat under the futon rolls in the back of the closet, along with his pants and his boots. If they found him missing before he got away, he didn’t want them to know he’d changed clothes.

It took a moment to figure out how the ties worked on the stupid robe. The sandals were the worst part—they definitely weren’t made for running—but wearing tiger seal boots beneath his robes would give him away. At least he looked the part, aside from the hair, which he could do nothing for except to untie his wolf-tail. He’d seen the other spa staff with topknots, but Sokka’s hair wasn’t long enough. He’d have to hope the laid-back atmosphere of the spa would be enough to keep them from wondering about the style.

The last thing he wanted now was to run into Zuko. He walked quickly in the opposite direction from the front entrance. The whole entryway had been open to the air to let out the steam from the baths. If he snuck down the front stairwell, there was no way he’d make it past the courtyard without them spotting him. There had to be another way around. This place was huge! There had to be, and, spirits, Sokka would settle for a window with a slightly less deadly drop, he wasn’t really all that picky, as long as it got him out of here without Zuko noticing—

Sokka turned the corner and ran headlong into someone. The woman squeaked in surprised and fumbled with the bucket in her hands, nearly losing her grip. She set it down heavily before she could drop it altogether. Water slopped over the edge of her bucket and onto the floor. It spattered across Sokka’s sandals, dampening the bottom hem of his stolen robe. He didn’t look down.

He looked at her face, instead, pinned by the clear recognition in her expression. It was the desk clerk from before, the woman who’d offered Zuko their best room, and settled for giving him the one Sokka had just finished tearing a hole in. Her eyes were bright green, pale in the center, dark around the edges. They narrowed for just a moment, as the shadow of a decision crossed her face.

And then she blinked and fixed him with a doe-eyed stare.

“My apologies,” she said. “This area is off limits to guests.”

Sokka waited, tense, for something more. He considered her words.

“It’s… right,” Sokka said quietly. He blew out a soft breath. “I got… turned around.”

She cut her gaze quickly behind him, looking for something. “Well, there’s nothing through here but the stairs to the kitchen and laundry, and the service entrance past that, which opens up behind the resort,” she said, tone carefully polite. She nodded, just barely, toward the door at the other end of the hall.

She stooped and swept the spilled water off the floor with her rag in one smooth motion, then hooked it on the lip of her bucket and hefted it up again.

“Enjoy your stay,” she said, and then she turned back down the hall like they’d never spoken.

Sokka paused to thank her, but she was already walking away. He headed down the hall, instead.

The stairs were cramped and poorly lit, so that when he pulled the hallway door shut behind him it was nearly too dark to see. He fumbled his way down the uneven risers, cringing at every creak and groan of the boards beneath his feet. Sokka nearly ran into the door on the other side, built so tight up against the last step that he knocked his knee against the wood.

Sokka eased the door open slowly, in case the noise had drawn any attention to him. The kitchen was empty, thankfully, and incredibly bright after the near-darkness of the stairs. Sokka rubbed his palm against his eyes, then hissed under his breath when it irritated the cut on his thumb.

The pain reminded him to move. Sokka crept over to the counter and swept a knife off the block—this one was longer, more like his jawbone knife, and Sokka wrapped it quickly in a dish rag before he cinched it under his robe. The cooks had left a meal half-prepped on the counter. There was a whole goose hen, marinating, surrounded by jars for its unfinished dressings. Sokka poked through three jars before he found one full of dried apricherries—he didn’t know how far the next town was, or how soon he’d find food, but the apricherries would travel well. After weeks of choosing between firebender-cooked fish and nothing, a little dried fruit suited him just fine. He stuffed a handful into his mouth, and the rest into his pockets, paused to drink a ladle of water from the sink, and then headed for the door.

On impulse, he plucked one of the empty bamboo baskets out of the stack by the door—just to give himself something to carry, something to make him look like he was busy with a task. Maybe, if they noticed he was missing, they might overlook him—

But he felt a little bad for stealing it, actually, so maybe he should put it back...

No! No, he needed to focus on getting out of here and worry about the basket later. He could drop it off at the base of the stairs before he hit the main road, and it would find its way back up here when someone noticed it was missing.

The servants’ entrance opened up behind the resort, just like she’d said. The grounds weren’t as well tended back here, more functional than aesthetically pleasing. He skipped the path and cut straight through the yard to where the gate opened up. There, at the edge of the resort, his back was open to the front walk and the grounds beyond that, dozens of resort customers and staff, plus two firebenders he hoped were too distracted to notice him. Sokka stepped onto the bridge.

The roar of the falls was nearly as loud as the blood rushing in his ears. He was completely exposed out here. If Zuko looked this way he’d be certain to see him, and all he had for cover was a flimsy basket and a robe and his hair down to partly block his face.

It was a long drop to the river, a longer drop over the falls to the sea below. Sokka forced himself to keep walking, slow and unhurried. He was almost there. He could see the end of the bridge, and where the path wound down to the stairs leading to the wharf, where it branched off to the main road. There had to be a town nearby, with the amount of traffic the resort had—there weren’t enough ships in the wharf to explain the number of guests, otherwise.

If he could reach the town, maybe he could find himself transportation. This was Fire Nation occupied territory, but it was Earth Kingdom soil. There had to be someone out there that would be willing to take him. If not, he’d just split off from the road, and hope that he could get far enough away for Zuko to lose his trail.

(Zuko was unfairly good at tracking, though, so Sokka was really hoping for that transport—)

Sokka glanced up ahead and nearly slipped in his stupid sandals, barely masking his surprise and the sudden thumping of his heartbeat.

A group of Fire Nation soldiers was making its way up the stairs.

Shit. Shit, stay calm.

The soldiers weren’t running, or even moving quickly at all, so he doubted they were coming for him. He turned his head just barely toward the wharf, trying not to betray his interest. All of the other ships were gone, replaced by the single Fire Nation warship weighing anchor at the end of the pier. It must have fought its way through the unfavorable currents to get into the bay, and then scared off all the other ships to make room.

So this must be Zuko’s new ship, right? The one he must have set off to summon when he locked Sokka in his room. Sokka had no idea how it had arrived so quickly, unless they had suspected that he’s somehow survived the Siege of the North and come looking for him—

Well, it didn’t matter, except that Sokka needed to get past them quickly before any of them realized who he was.

It was too late to hide. Trying to turn back now would look extremely suspicious, and there was nowhere else to go from the bridge except straight on. Sokka tightened his fingers on the basket handle, feeling the tension in his muscles all the way up his arm. Then he breathed, and relaxed, and kept walking. He wasn’t the only other person on the bridge, and the rest of them were averting their gazes, too. Sokka tilted his chin down to hide where he was looking and watched them approach.

There were half a dozen soldiers, all dressed in full battle armor. They had to be here for Zuko—why else would they be dressed like this in their own occupied territory, if not to put on a front for royalty?

He almost didn’t notice the seventh person, a head shorter than the rest and walking at the center of the group. It was… a girl, dressed in Fire Nation colors, too, but by the time he noticed her he was too close to risk being caught staring. He fixed his gaze ahead instead, as they reached the end of the bridge at the same time.

“Excuse me,” Sokka said. He ducked his head, mimicking the respectful bows of the staff and moved toward the stairs.

“Just a moment,” the girl said. Sokka’s heart squeezed, but there was no way she could be talking to anyone but him. He paused at the top of the stairs, he was so close, as she turned and gave him an appraising look. “Where are you going?”

Well, shit. It wasn’t like he could just ignore her. He turned to face the soldiers. His heart was pounding in his throat, but everyone else on the bridge seemed terrified of them, too, so maybe that wasn’t so suspicious. The girl looked much younger up close, almost Katara’s age, but still wearing full armor and a topknot, not a hair out of place.

She raised an eyebrow at him, expectantly, and he realized he’d hesitated for too long. Sokka grasped for the first answer that came to him.

“The market,” he said quickly, amazed by how level his voice was. “I—work at the resort. Supply run.”

He shifted the basket off his hip and shook it a little for emphasis. He didn’t have money, of course, so if she called his bluff he wouldn’t actually be able to buy anything. The girl nodded, lips pursed.

“Hm,” she said. “Cut yourself, did you?”

How had she noticed that? Sokka curled his sleeve around his wounded thumb before he could think better of it.

“Barna… er, hermit oyster shucking,” he said. “I work in the kitchen. I’m—we’re out of… those, and some other things. Rice. Radish yams? Anyway, I’d better not keep them waiting.”

“I see,” she said. “A perfectly reasonable explanation for everything.”

Her words were—strangely loaded, her expression carefully polite. It made Sokka’s skin crawl, but… she didn’t do anything else, other than smile at him sweetly. She nodded to him, then turned to cross the bridge. Sokka’s heart was thumping in his ears as he reached the first stair. He was so close. The Fire Nation soldiers turned aside to let him pass.

“Oh, silly me. Just one more thing,” the girl said. She tossed the words carelessly over her shoulder, but when she turned back, her gold eyes pierced straight through him, far too keen.

Eyes just like—

“Seeing as you’re so quick on your feet,” she continued, her voice sharp now, eyeing him like a hawk watching a sparrow-mouse, “Care to explain why a kitchen boy looks half-starved, with rope burns on his wrists?”

Well, shit.

Sokka dropped the basket and ran. The Fire Nation soldier wasn’t ready. He grabbed for him clumsily, startled by the sudden shift. Sokka ducked under his arm, stumbled on the first stair and landed three down, but somehow managed to keep his feet as he kept going. The stairs were tall and narrow, sharp cliffs on either side, but he’d seen a little clearing about halfway up when Zuko was dragging him along. It looked less steep, and Zuko had tightened his hand on his arm like he’d expected Sokka to try for it, so maybe it would lead him somewhere more walkable than the stark cliffs bracketing the stairs. If he could reach the ledge he might be able to break for the trees—

A wall of blue fire slammed down in front of him. Sokka yelped and staggered back. He swore, tried to dive for the tree line anyway, to take his chances with the rocks along the loose basalt palisade. He didn’t make it. The soldiers dove down the stairs to seize his arms.

The girl followed after with deliberate slowness, her metal bootheels clinking against the stone. She paused in front of the discarded basket, then sunk her heel into the edge, crushing it beneath her shoe. She held Sokka’s gaze as the basket burst into flame, brilliant blue—she held it longer as the fire flared around her calf, lashing against her knee, thigh, and then snuffed out, leaving not a single burnt thread behind.

She eyed him for a moment, then clucked her tongue.

“Now who are you, I wonder?” she asked. “Let’s go find out.”

Chapter Text

“This is ridiculous!” Sokka shouted. He stumbled as the soldiers dragged him back up the stairs. There had been a few people on the bridge before, but the whole area was completely deserted now, save for the soldiers and the girl and the scorch marks on the ground. His sandal slipped a little on the ashy remains of the basket. “I haven’t done anything. And… they’re expecting me back at the resort, too, so let me go!”

“Don’t insult me,” she said. “Now then. Who are you? Did my brother let you go? Or is he so incompetent that he allowed you to escape?”

Brother…?

Sokka’s heart squeezed. Oh, this was so, so much worse than Sokka thought.

She quirked one perfectly manicured brow. “I’ll take that to mean you escaped,” she said.

Zuko was bad enough, and now there was another one? He jerked back against the hands on his arms, trying to break their grip.

“Hm,” she said. “Search him for weapons.”

The soldier found the kitchen knife easily. He passed it to the man behind him, then pulled Sokka’s wrists together and cuffed his hands in front of him.

“Seriously?” Sokka asked. “You just carry those on you? I thought the Fire Nation preferred not to take prisoners.”

He’d believed that. That was what the warriors would say, that was what he’d heard all throughout the Earth Kingdom, that was why his mom—

Well, clearly that wasn’t true, at least not in Sokka’s experience.

“Let’s just say…” Her lips quirked, “You’ve caught me in a mood,” she said.

The soldier shoved him, forcing Sokka to take a step forward.

“Ah, ah,” she tutted, stopping Sokka with a hand on his shoulder. She gave the soldier to his right a flat look. “The knife in his pocket, as well.”

Damn.

Sokka grit his teeth as he took his knife and slid it into his own pocket. He looked nervous while he did it. Considering Zuko’s sparkling personality, Sokka guessed the princess probably wasn’t one to forgive sloppy mistakes, either.

All the soldiers looked the same behind the mask of the helmet. Sokka glared at him, anyway, tried to memorize his height, the lump of it in his pocket, the scuff on his boot—he was tired of firebenders taking his stuff.

The man shook him roughly to break his staring, then forced him to walk the last few steps toward the bridge. The princess stepped up beside him. For a moment she laid a hand on his arm, feather light, like she was about to lead him into a ballroom, not drag him handcuffed back to his captors. Something in the touch, in the look on her carefully-blank face, made his stomach sour.

Her fingernails dug into his bicep. Sokka winced as she tugged him close enough to see the little flecks of brown in her too-wide eyes. There was something wild in the look on her face, like she was daring him to try something—like she was excited by the possibility.

“I am not my brother,” she said, very calmly. “If you try to run from me, you will not get away unharmed.”

Sokka could hear Zuko shouting long before they made it back to the resort, even over the roar of the falls. The princess rolled her eyes at the sound.

The courtyard was nearly deserted now. Whether the other guests had made themselves scarce thanks to Zuko’s shouting, or whether the fading afternoon light had chased them indoors for the evening, Sokka didn’t know.

Zuko was standing in the center of the courtyard, too preoccupied with screaming at his uncle to notice their approach. Iroh looked only mildly chastised, but he was nodding with the same serene patience he always wore when Zuko was angry at him—which was most of the time, it seemed.

The rest of the staff looked nervous, torn between watching the exchange and pretending they didn’t notice the prince of the Fire Nation shattering the tranquility of their resort courtyard. The desk clerk was nowhere in sight. Sokka hoped that she’d made herself scarce as soon as Zuko noticed he was missing.

“How could you let him escape!” Zuko shouted. “Where did he even get a—?”

Iroh’s gaze flicked over to the bridge. The chagrined smile slipped off his face. He tensed, which was—a very weird reaction to seeing your niece. Sokka’s stomach flipped, worried suddenly that he was missing something.

Zuko cut off abruptly when he saw his uncle’s expression shift. He whirled around on his heel. At first his gaze landed on Sokka, and he almost looked relieved. But then his eyes slid behind him, and his face twitched, trying on several emotions, too fast to identify them.

Unsurprisingly, he settled on anger.

“Hello, Brother. Uncle,” the princess said sweetly, her smile on the wrong side of too sharp.

“Azula,” Zuko said. “What are you doing here?”

Azula rolled her eyes, the only indication she’d heard him. She eyed the courtyard, the baths, and the resort entrance with distaste, then turned the same look back on Zuko.

“Really, Zuzu,” Azula said, in a tone like she was chiding a small child. “You need to keep better track of your things.”

Zuko grit his teeth. “Hand him over. He’s my prisoner,” he said.

“That’s funny, because as I recall, I was the one who captured him on the way in,” she said. She tapped her nail against her bottom lip, thoughtful. “But I’ll tell you what… you can escort my new prisoner to my ship, if you’d like. We’re on the same side, after all.”

Sokka’s heart sank through his stomach. If he ended up on a Fire Nation warship, in the cells like a prisoner… he’d never get out. Shit. If they threw him into the brig of the Fire Princess’s personal ship, did that mean they would take him back to the Fire Nation? Or would they drag him through Earth Kingdom waters, where he’d be stuck listening to the distant sounds of them attacking his own ally’s ships, even Sokka’s own people’s ships, and with nothing to do but rot and wait for the ocean spirit to try its luck again—

Zuko stomped over and grabbed him roughly by the bicep. He dragged Sokka toward him. The soldier let go hesitantly, torn between following Azula’s orders or Zuko’s.

“Will you quit yanking me around?” Sokka said. Of course, Zuko ignored him, dragging him back away from his sister and the other soldiers. For a second Zuko looked like he wanted to throttle him, and then his expression got all pinched as he leaned in closer.

“You shouldn’t have let her see you,” Zuko hissed.

Sokka rolled his eyes. “Yeah, well, it wasn’t really part of my plan,” he said.

Zuko just scowled at him, and the reminder that Sokka had nearly escaped on his watch—well, his uncle’s watch.

“Just be quiet if you know what’s good for you,” he whispered. He seemed tense now, even more so than when he’d been screaming at Iroh for letting Sokka go.

Was he mad that his sister was here? Zuko didn’t seem like the sort of person who knew how to share, so maybe he was just upset he didn’t get to keep all the evil Avatar-capturing glory for himself. Sokka didn’t really care either way.

“You’re not taking him. I need him,” Zuko said.

Azula’s expression lit up in understanding, and Zuko’s soured.

“For your little Avatar hunt?” she asked. She glanced at Sokka. “Friend of yours, is he?”

Don’t even think about—” Zuko started to say, but Azula cut him off with a flippant wave of her hand.

“Well, it doesn’t matter. Not anymore,” Azula said, examining her nails with complete disinterest, like she was just baiting Zuko to ask:

“What’s that supposed to mean?” She glanced up at him, and for some reason when she smiled sweetly, Zuko bristled like a catigator.

Spirits, what kind of family was this?

“Father regrets your banishment,” she said. “He wants you to come home.”

Banishment?

Sokka turned to stare at Zuko, but it was almost like he’d forgotten Sokka was there. Banishment was—that was serious, where Sokka was from. Sokka couldn’t think of anything he could do that would get him banished from his tribe, and that meant...

Zuko must have done something horrible. He was the prince, so whatever he’d done was bad enough that his own father had banished him. Was that why he was after Aang? He thought he could buy his way back home with the Avatar?

Iroh had said that Zuko wouldn’t give up without a good reason. Sokka guessed he understood why, now.

Zuko’s hand went slack against Sokka’s arm, not even holding him there anymore, only barely touching him. Sokka could yank his arm away and make a run for it right now, if he wasn’t so badly outnumbered. He eyed the waterfall anyway, for a half-second, but... it was too much of a risk, even without the chains.

The princess was staring at him, when Sokka looked back. She smirked, just for a moment, before she turned to her brother with a sympathetic pout.

“Father… regrets?” Zuko asked.

“Don’t sound so surprised,” Azula said. “Father needs people at his side who he can trust, if we’re going to bring this war to an end. Who better than his own family?”

Sokka glanced over at him, but Zuko seemed frozen.

“Shouldn’t you be happy?” she demanded. “I came all this way—”

“I’m sure your brother only needs a moment,” Iroh said.

“Be quiet, Uncle,” Azula said.

“I…” Zuko said, surprise and disbelief both plain on his face. His hand tightened on Sokka’s arm again, like he’d suddenly remembered he was a flight risk. He flicked a quick glance in Sokka’s direction.

Zuko frowned slightly, and hesitated.

“What about the Avatar?” he asked eventually.

“Well, obviously Father isn’t going to just give up. You’re the one who’s been hunting him for the past three years, shouldn’t you know where to find him? Don’t tell me you lost track of him at the North Pole.”

“We’re tracking him now,” Zuko insisted, even though they’d only just washed up on the shore like driftwood that morning, and they absolutely were not doing that.

“You lost him,” Azula said. “And you almost lost his little friend, too.” She considered Sokka for a short moment. “You were going to trade him for the Avatar?”

Zuko only glared at her, but she didn’t seem to expect an answer.

She shrugged. “Well, if that’s the best you can do, then fine. We’ll bring him along.”

Nope, Sokka didn’t like that idea at all. That waterfall was looking more and more tempting. At least the waterfall didn’t have an evil Fire Lord on the other side of it. He looked at Zuko and—was surprised to see him hesitating.

“He’s not useful to Father. We’ve already interrogated him to find where the Avatar is going,” Zuko said. “They were separated. He doesn’t know—”

“Oh, don’t sell yourself so short, Zuko,” she said. “You’ve finally had an actually good idea, let’s not waste it. As soon as the Avatar learns we have him, he’ll come straight to us.”

Zuko looked hesitant. “I don’t…”

“Take him to the ship,” Azula said, shooing the soldiers over with a casual flip of her wrist. Sokka’s heart caught in his throat. He glanced back and found Zuko already staring at him with an unreadable expression, just the hint of a frown on his lips.

Probably reluctant to hand him over. Sokka glared when he caught his gaze, and Zuko narrowed his eyes and turned away.

“You should be grateful I’m even here. I’m not a messenger,” Azula said. “I’m not a warden, either, but apparently you can’t do anything on your own.”

One of the soldiers shifted behind her just slightly. Sokka cut a glance at him, but it was hard to tell what he was thinking behind the helmet. Something itched at the back of his mind, anyway.

“If you’re not a messenger, why did the Fire Lord send you?” Sokka asked.

Azula turned to look at him like she couldn’t believe that he’d spoken. The indignation slid off her face quickly, replaced by more of that same placid meanness. When she spoke again, it was to Zuko, as though he’d been the one to ask. “I suppose I was feeling magnanimous,” she said. “It’s been such a long time, after all.”

Ha. Because they seemed like such the family reunion types.

Sokka really doubted any sort of sibling loyalty had motivated her, with the way they were needling each other, but why would they send the princess, of all people, personally? Azula had said herself that she wasn’t a messenger. So why?

The entire retinue seemed wildly unprepared to greet them, considering that Zuko and Iroh were Fire Nation royalty. They hadn’t even brought a healer with them, even though they’d spent the last several weeks adrift on the frigid northern sea, fleeing the failed invasion with thousands of their countrymen left rolling beneath the ocean.

They hadn’t brought anything for them. Anything except half a dozen soldiers in battle armor, armed firebenders, carrying shackles—

“Oh,” Sokka said. “You’re not here to bring them home.”

The words left his mouth almost before he realized they must be true. It made sense though. The Siege of the North had failed, the Fire Navy had been decimated… It was an embarrassment, and according to Zuko, the admiral who’d lead the invasion was dead. Who better to blame, than an apparently banished prince?

“You’re here to arrest them,” Sokka said. Azula didn’t even twitch, but the soldiers behind her did, exchanging nervous glances. “You are!”

Zuko turned bright red.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about!” he shouted at Sokka. There was a little flash of fire between his teeth, blink and you miss it. Except, not a single soldier wasn’t watching him with single-minded focus, just waiting for an attack. More than one hand twitched into fists.

Azula’s eyes narrowed, and a flicker of irritation passed over her face, directed at the soldiers and their poor attempt at bluffing. They snapped back to attention a moment too late. Sokka could see the tension rising in Iroh’s shoulders, despite the careful calm on his face.

Even Zuko caught the motion, and hesitated. A complicated look flickered over his face, so quickly that Sokka nearly missed it. It wasn’t anger, or betrayal, like Sokka would have felt. He almost looked—

Zuko clenched his teeth, and took a half-step toward his sister.

“You lied to me!” Zuko shouted.

“Like I’ve never done that before,” Azula said. She rolled her eyes, and then cut a glance over to the men flanking Sokka. “Take that one to the ship. We’re leaving.”

“Zuko, wait!” Sokka shouted.

Zuko ignored him. He flicked his wrists, red-hot flames leaping from his palms as he lunged forward. The soldiers flinched, rocking back into fighting stances, and Iroh moved before they could even attack.

“Prince Zuko!” Iroh said. At the same time Sokka shouted,

“You idiot, she’s baiting you!”

One of the soldiers grabbed Sokka’s arm, distracting him from Zuko and Azula dueling in the courtyard.

“Let go of me,” Sokka said. He thrashed in his grip, but the man’s hand was like iron on his arm. When Sokka tried to kick at his leg, his stupid sandaled foot just clanged off the Fire Nation armor. He was not getting thrown in a Fire Nation prison because of Zuko’s stupid, impulsive need to fight with everyone.

A second soldier came up beside them, trying to grab for Sokka’s other arm.

...The second soldier had a scuffed boot. Sokka elbowed left, shook himself loose, and dove for the man’s pocket. He yanked the shucking knife free before either of them could react, and then thrust down with all his strength into the meat of his thigh.

The man howled in pain. He stumbled, nearly dragged Sokka down with him, hand flexed painfully tight around Sokka’s arm. Sokka shoved him off and staggered away before the other soldier could grab for him.

The man’s hand was wrapped around the hilt of the knife. Sokka had to let it go, stumbling back before he could get a grip on the chains around his wrist.

“You little shit,” he said. Sokka sprinted for the edge of the courtyard. Iroh was standing near the edge of the pond, and Sokka saw him dodge one of the soldier’s strikes, grab his wrist, and dump him into the water.

Okay. Okay, options...

Same as before, really. Jump over the side, and take his chance with the falls, or try for the bridge. Except the bridge was behind him, and so was the very angry firebender—

Zuko was too distracted with his stupid sister to pay attention to Sokka. Iroh was too distracted with his stupid nephew to care about Sokka, either, but, maybe—

Iroh had been kind to him. He hadn’t helped him, but—he’d forgotten a knife. That had been careless, for the so-called Dragon of the West. Or maybe it hadn’t been careless. Maybe he’d—

Something collided with Sokka’s back.

He hit the ground, hard, too tired to keep his feet, too clumsy to catch himself with his hands bound. Sokka rolled over, and kneed the man in the side with all his weight. He grunted, but didn’t give, grabbing for the chain between Sokka’s wrists.

His hand twisted toward him, palm flat, fingers curled.

Sokka screamed, and flinched back from the fire. His vision narrowed to a single point, white at the edges, then black—

There was a flash of heat, and the pressure lifted. Sokka gasped, clutching the fabric of his robe above the burn.

He breathed harshly through his nose. It hurt, the touch had hurt but the open air now was worse, moving was so much worse. He blinked, but the soldier was lying on the ground beside him now. He hadn’t seen—

He shook his head, gasped and scooted backwards, away from the soldier, away from the rest of the fight.

Ugh, spirits. Even that motion was enough to make his head swim. No one was paying him any mind on the ground, but that wouldn’t last long. Zuko was still trading strikes with his sister, swinging blades of fire like they were dancing. It looked like sparring.

She was toying with him.

She was toying with him… until she wasn’t. Azula sidestepped one of Zuko’s attacks, took another dancing step backwards, with too much grace to be anything but a tactical retreat. And then she pointed her fingers, the tiniest smirk touching her lips.

Azula’s fingers crackled with a blue light, sparks flickering along her fingertips.

What was that?

Iroh crushed her hand in his own, and pointed his arm away from them both. Lightning arced off his fingers, flashing as it shot across the courtyard. It struck the baths.

The water shrieked, instantly boiling, and erupted into a cloud of steam.

Sokka flinched as the heat washed over him. He shielded his face in the crook of his elbow, and when he turned his head back up the whole courtyard was bathed in a white fog, too thick to see more than a few steps in front of him. He could still hear the soldiers shouting to each other, loud enough that Sokka could guess where they were hidden. He wrapped the chain around his wrist a few times, muffling their clinking with his palm.

He couldn’t see anything, but neither could any of the soldiers. It was just like their fight with those pirates, only there was no lucky sword from the heavens, and he couldn’t cut through chains anyway. Sokka had lost track of Zuko and Iroh fog, but—

They were going to run.

The realization settled with heavy dread. That’s what Sokka would have done. They were going to run, and they were going to leave him behind, and he’d be stuck with Azula, not just tied up in the back room of some inn, but actually in a Fire Nation prison cell—

How was he supposed to find Aang and Katara, locked up in the brig of a Fire Nation ship?

Sokka choked on a gasp as he tried to sit up. The heat in the air alone made the burn sting, the phantom agony of the hand on his side.

“Ah—hng,” Sokka grit his teeth and forced himself to get up. He needed to get up, move, cross the bridge, reach the trees before the Fire Nation soldiers recovered or a stiff breeze came along and blew his cover away. He couldn’t fight them. Even Zuko and Iroh couldn’t fight them, apparently, because they were running now and they were leaving him behind.

“Shit,” he whispered. He was a little dizzy. It was fine. He could do this. The bridge was the other way. He could skirt around the courtyard in the fog and dodge the soldiers.

Someone grabbed him. Sokka flinched and jerked his arm back. He didn’t have his knife anymore. He could… he could—

“Stop,” Zuko said. “It’s me.”

“Zuko?” Sokka said.

Zuko just grit his teeth and grabbed him by the bicep. His fingertips were almost painfully warm against Sokka’s skin, residual heat from trading fire with his sister. He dragged Sokka forward roughly, and Sokka stumbled trying to get his feet under him.

“Prince Zuko!” Iroh’s voice carried through the steam.

Zuko tugged Sokka toward the sound, and Sokka immediately stumbled. His legs weren’t cooperating. The pain in his side was pulsing with his heartbeat, and it was so distracting. He could hardly catch his breath, he’d… he’d lost a shoe, too, because of course he’d lost a shoe.

“Zuko, wait, I can’t,” Sokka gasped.

“You have to,” Zuko snapped, but he still slowed slightly, still slid his arm under Sokka’s to take more of his weight. He could see shadows moving through the steam, flashes of light from stray firebolts. Was that Iroh fighting more of them, or Azula searching for them? He couldn’t tell. Sweat prickled at his neck, but his legs felt steadier once they were moving.

Their feet struck hollow ground as they reached the bridge, and then the sound of the falls rushed in past the muffling walls of the resort.

“Where’s…?”

“Uncle,” Zuko said, as a hand fell on his shoulder.

They cleared the steam half-way over the bridge, rounded the bend, and…

No one followed. No one followed, so they ran, down off the path, down the sharp incline into the fire-red foliage. They didn’t follow it directly, but he could hear the rush of the Su Oku River through the trees. Zuko and Iroh were unfairly fast, his lungs were burning, and Sokka had one shoe.

His heart was hammering so loud in his ears that he could hardly hear the sound of their footfalls on the forest floor. He was limping awkwardly, gait uneven with only one sandal. The trees began to thin, the steep bank of the river shrinking, the waters calming, the sky darkening. Sokka turned his head down to scrub his forehead against the sleeve of his robe and caught sight of the road through the thinning trees. It didn’t look like a merchant road—not wide enough for a cart, certainly, maybe a footpath, and the area was dark with the deciduous canopy. There was a bamboo forest on the other side, bright green and evenly spaced, clearly cultivated. He could see the light of the first scattered stars peeking between the bamboo leaves at the very tops of the stalks.

Sokka collapsed the moment they stopped. His legs burned from running, his knees hurt from landing on them. He clenched his teeth, because his burn was screaming at him, every movement rasping against the fabric of his robe. Even breathing was agony, pulling on burned skin. He could barely catch his breath, gasping shallowly, trying to hold still.

Sokka didn’t even want to look. The burn felt like fire all along his side.

“Get up,” Zuko snapped. He was as winded as Sokka.

“Just… give me a second,” Sokka said.

Zuko looked… furious? No, that wasn’t quite right, but in the steadily darkening woods, dizzy and exhausted, his eyes had to be playing tricks on him, because for one wild moment Sokka thought he looked scared.

“Nephew, enough,” Iroh said. “I think we’re safe here.”

Zuko acted like he hadn’t even heard his uncle. He grabbed the chain between Sokka’s wrists. He winced when Zuko yanked him forward.

He didn’t pull him to his feet. He just dragged the manacles over to rest against a hard stone and raised his heel. He brought it down, hard, on the seam where the metal clasped together. Heat flashed against Sokka’s skin, for just a moment, but before the burning could build to pain the manacles shattered.

Zuko kicked the broken manacles aside like they’d personally offended him. Like he needed something to take his anger out on. The cuffs left a shiny pink line along his skin, where the heated metal had pressed on his wrists for the instant before they broke. It stung faintly, but he could barely feel it over the much more insistent pain from his side.

Zuko stopped and stared at him. With nothing but the too-still silence of the forest, the whisper of the evening breeze in the grass, and the distant murmur of the river, the tension was a strange mockery of peace. His expression was hard to read, but not from the darkness. He was holding himself carefully still, breathing slightly too shallow, like a wind-up toy slowly grinding to a halt. His chin twitched down, almost a nod, mostly to himself. His voice was low when he spoke.

“Get out of here,” Zuko said.

Sokka stared at him.

“What?” Sokka asked. His pulse was thumping in his ears. He must have misheard him.

“Before I change my mind,” Zuko said.

“You’re... letting me go?” Sokka asked. His head was buzzing with the fear and anxiety from running, from being dragged around, and now… now confusion, too, because Zuko was letting him go, and that didn’t make sense. A curl of suspicion hooked under his ribs, and Sokka latched onto it.

(A curl of hope, too, and Sokka squashed that feeling down.)

“Why?” Sokka asked.

Zuko clenched his jaw. “What do you mean, why? Just go!”

“I mean, why would you help me if you were just going to let me go?” Sokka demanded. “Why didn’t you leave me behind?”

He shouldn’t be arguing. He should be running. Just… it didn’t make sense. Zuko didn’t need to go back for Sokka, unless he was still trying to catch Aang. Why would he let him go?

Zuko yanked his bag open. He pulled out Sokka’s wallet and his knife—the one he’d taken off of him, before they’d made landfall—and threw them both down into the dirt with so much force that the blade stuck. He turned without another word and stalked into the trees. Iroh hesitated only a moment, before following Zuko out of sight.

Sokka waited until Zuko had stomped away to pull the knife out of the ground. He picked his wallet up carefully, turned the little pouch over in his hands. It still had some money in it—coppers, mostly, a few spare silver. The last time he’d used it had been buying supplies on their way to the North Pole. The money was… good, and helpful. He’d need it if he was going to find his way across the Earth Kingdom. He’d need a lot more, realistically, but it was a start. The pouch…

The pouch was Southern Water Tribe made, blue dyed tiger seal hide, with a carefully embroidered patch on the side, where Gran Gran had stitched it up years ago when the seam split. She’d slipped it to him when they were leaving to follow Aang. Sokka rubbed his thumb across the stitching, gently.

He’d thought he’d lost it along with all his other things, his boomerang and his boots and the clothes he’d left behind. But Zuko had taken it, and held onto it, and... well, he’d given it back to him. So.

Sokka cleared his throat and stuffed the wallet into his pocket. The spa robes were thin, and the pockets weren’t very deep. He patted the awkward lump of it and blinked and blinked.

The knife, at least, had the sheath, and that made it a little easier to carry. He was still tense, still thrumming with adrenaline. He was coming down from it now, less energized, more twitchy and tired. He stared at the forest.

Now what?

Now he… should leave. On his own. Maybe make his way to Omashu, or try to.

Now he should find Aang and Katara, or try to.

Now…

Without really thinking about it, Sokka found himself turning his back on the way they’d come from. Sokka could hear running water in the direction Zuko and Iroh had gone.

All Sokka had was a knife and one sandal. He kicked the sandal off, barefoot now, and left it where it landed. He’d traveled across the world to get this far, but that had been on Appa, with Aang and Katara. They’d been together, the whole time they’d been together, and...

(Hah. Sokka had never been alone in his life.)

Sokka had no way to get to Omashu. Sokka hardly had more than a handful of coppers, and the Earth Kingdom was huge. It would take him weeks to cross it alone, and knowing Aang, it would take him days for the winds to change directions and carry him away again.

He’d managed to catch his breath, kneeling there in the grass. Sokka’s legs still wobbled when he forced himself to stand.

It just made sense to follow them. Sokka could never find them on his own before Aang and Katara moved on, so he’d just have to find them wherever they went next, a free-spirited little needle in the hay-clover stack that was the Earth Kingdom mainland.

But Zuko had found Aang plenty of times throughout their journey to the North Pole. He was scarily good at it, and there was just… no way he was just giving up now, even if that was what he wanted Sokka to believe. Azula had said that Zuko was banished, and Sokka didn’t know what that meant, or why, but Sokka had seen the way Zuko had chased them. Even Iroh had said that Zuko wouldn’t give up.

Zuko would find Aang long before Sokka ever managed to, and Sokka was going to be there when it happened.

Zuko slid the knife beneath the leather tie around his ponytail. He barely hesitated, just sliced the whole ponytail off in one cut. Sokka watched as he passed the blade to Iroh. Zuko looked… well, that couldn’t be right, because he almost looked… sad? Sokka was pretty sure he’d never seen Zuko show any emotion that wasn’t angry, or frustrated, or jerk-ish, or…

Well, he had, though, hadn’t he? For just a moment, after he’d realized his sister had betrayed him, and he wasn’t going home. Sokka knew what grief looked like, and he knew what it looked like to try and mask it. It was impossible not to know, growing up how they did. The Fire Nation made sure of that.

So, Sokka knew grief. Katara, angry, clutching mom’s necklace so tight her knuckles paled. His dad, so serious one moment, laughing the next, like he couldn’t bear to let them see him hurting. Bato, quiet—he’d always been quiet, but that quiet felt different. Even more so in the way the silences hung, the way dad tried to fill them...

He’d seen grief in more forms than he’d ever hoped too, and he knew what he saw.

Zuko was mourning his position, maybe. The luxuries of a prince.

(Even without saying it out loud, those excuses tasted bitter on his tongue. It was a home he was mourning, same as Dad when their mom died, Sokka when their dad left...)

Anyway. The haircut looked significant, was all. It looked final.

(It also looked like they were stopping for a haircut with the princess of the Fire Nation hot on their tails, ready to arrest them or worse).

The knife left a weird little diamond-shaped patch on the back of Zuko’s head. Sokka stared at it for a moment. He stared at Zuko, too, silently watching his hair float away on the current.

Sokka cleared his throat. “You look stupid,” he said.

Zuko flinched, badly, before he seemed to register Sokka’s words. He froze when he saw him, confused. Iroh hardly reacted, like he’d known Sokka was watching them all along.

“I told you to leave,” Zuko said.

Sokka ignored him.

“Are you still looking for Aang?” Sokka asked.

Zuko’s hands fell to his lap.

“What?” Zuko asked.

“Are you still looking for—”

“I heard you,” Zuko said. “And I told you to go away.”

The gravel on the riverbank crunched under Sokka’s knees. Zuko was half-turned, staring at him, looking torn between anger or confusion or something else entirely, too hard to read in the dark shadows of the tree cover.

Sokka’s fingertips were bloody. He stared at them for a moment, unsure where it had come from. The man he’d stabbed, maybe—

Hah. Oh, spirits, he’d stabbed someone.

His fingers had left little rusty prints on his robe, above the blackened scorch marks on the fabric. His hands shook as he scrubbed the blood off. They shook worse when he dunked his arms above the wrist. The burns on his wrist weren’t bad—just faint little marks where the metal had touched him. The redness faded after a few seconds under the cool water. Zuko had pretty impressive control, actually, to do that.

The burn on his side, though… he didn’t even want to look.

(He wished Katara was here.)

The cool water felt nice on his wrists, against the overwarm flush of his neck. Zuko watched him, annoyed, as he scrubbed his hands, like he was offended by the mundanity of it. Sokka shook the water from his fingers and then wiped them on his knees.

“I’ll fix your stupid hair for you,” Sokka said.

“I’m not letting you anywhere near my face with a knife,” Zuko said mildly. He didn’t even sound all that angry, really. Maybe because he was tired, or… or maybe he was just taking pity on Sokka. He sure felt tired.

“I do my own, don’t I?” Sokka said. He scrubbed his fingers along the stubble of his shaved sides. Zuko had seen him cutting it on the raft. Sokka knew what he was doing.

“Maybe I don’t trust you,” Zuko said.

Sokka, kindly, ignored the easy barb. If either of them was the untrustworthy one… well. He pulled his knife from its sheath. It made Zuko tense, even though all Sokka did was wave it jauntily between them, blade glinting dully in the moonlight.

“I’ll fix your stupid hair,” Sokka repeated. “So let me come with you.”

Zuko looked momentarily baffled. It passed quickly, and his expression shuttered.

“No,” Zuko said.

The forest was quiet—oppressive, almost, with that predatory stillness that came from something hunting. They’d distracted Azula with the steam from the baths, taken advantage of that little window for a quick escape. Sokka doubted it would last for long.

“I’m looking for my sister,” Sokka said. “Your sister is looking for you.”

He also very strongly suspected that she’d be looking for him now, too, which was just… great. Zuko grimaced at the mention of his sister. He nodded, slightly, eyes narrowed.

They should move. They should leave the Fire Nation territory altogether, flee deeper into the Earth Kingdom until the occupied towns were far behind them, find somewhere where the Fire Nation didn’t already have their foot in the door. It was getting steadily darker, now, as the night set in. That would work in their favor, but only for so long, only until they managed to put together a proper search party. Sokka didn’t know her, but from the way that Zuko and Iroh had reacted to seeing Azula, he really, really didn’t want to wait around to find out what she would do next.

“Where else am I supposed to go, Zuko?” Sokka asked.

Zuko blinked at him, eyes widening slightly. The expression didn’t last for long, hidden quickly behind another annoyed glare.

He clenched his jaw, hands balled into fists against his knees.

“Do what you want,” Zuko said.

Zuko shoved himself to his feet and stalked away from the river bed. Sokka followed, more slowly, his hand pressed against his side. It didn’t really help. He felt warm, though maybe that was just from running. He was sweating from the exertion, though, and the salt stung his side. Even just bending his torso enough to shift off his knees felt like getting stabbed with a hot poker. He breathed harshly through his nose, teeth clenched, but he still managed to find his feet.

“Are you injured?” Iroh asked.

“I’m fine,” Sokka said immediately. He was still holding the knife, but he was very aware of how little use that would be, if Zuko changed his mind. And he’d said he would change his mind.

(Sokka had done a lot of stupid things, lately. His luck had held out so far.)

Even if Zuko did change his mind, he’d take him to find Aang and Katara, which still left him better off than he was now, lost in the Earth Kingdom, no map, no supplies, and no idea where to start looking.

“Perhaps our first step should be to find a healer,” Iroh said. “May I look?”

“No, Uncle,” Zuko said. He was looking more and more annoyed, a bit like a tea kettle about to boil over, as Iroh completely ignored the protest, and gestured for Sokka to sit down on one of the rocks by the bank. “Azula will be right behind us. We can’t waste time with this.”

Zuko was right. Azula probably was right behind them. It felt risky to stop. They’d probably been here for too long already, all that time wasted for a stupid haircut, and Sokka really didn’t want to be the one to hold them up any longer.

“He’s right,” Sokka said. “I’m fine.”

“Just a quick look won’t hurt,” Iroh said, obviously trying to appease his nephew as much as Sokka. He clenched his teeth, and reluctantly moved his hand away.

“Please, ah—don’t touch it,” Sokka said quietly.

Iroh hummed a quiet acknowledgment. He nudged Sokka’s hand aside and pulled back the burnt fabric. The robe stuck a bit at the edge, and Sokka clenched his jaw so tightly he could hear his teeth creaking.

Spirits, that hurt.

Iroh murmured a quiet apology, and lit a small flame in one hand. Sokka was almost relieved when he saw it. The burn wasn’t nearly as big as it felt when he was running. It hurt, it felt enormous, so he’d expected so much worse, with the pain radiating out over his stomach and back. The burn was only the size of the man’s hand, where the soldier had tried to grab him. It was a little ragged on the edges, already blistering. The cool air stung his side, heat and pain radiating out from where the fabric had pulled tender skin.

Zuko had stopped complaining. Sokka glanced up at both of them, and the little relief he’d felt seeing the size of the burn drained out of him at their expressions.

“What?” Sokka asked. “It’s… it’s not so bad.”

His stomach churned with anxiety. Iroh and Zuko shared matching, grim expressions, and it set Sokka’s mind racing. The wound wasn’t actually that big, right? It felt big, when he was running, but now that he was looking at it… well, it wasn’t great, but it was only hand-sized. That was—was fine, wasn’t it? He’d live.

(What did the firebenders know that he didn’t?)

Sokka looked at Zuko then—his face and his scarred cheek. He looked less angry now, and more uncomfortable, hands clenched into fists at his sides. He was nearly shaking, probably with the effort of biting back his frustration. Sokka could feel the heat rolling off him like a stove. Iroh could too, and reached out to lay a steady hand on his shoulder. If anything, Zuko looked more annoyed at the reminder, but when the next breeze carried the heat away, a slight chill followed.

“It will be much better when we find a healer,” Iroh said, with the same pleasant, placating voice he used whenever his nephew said something particularly stupid. Zuko just frowned at them both, but he didn’t argue. That, more than anything, had Sokka giving the burn another anxious look.

“We need to move,” Zuko said. “Uncle?”

Iroh patted his knees, and straightened from where he was crouching to look at Sokka’s side.

“The Su Oku river runs toward the ocean,” Iroh said. “If we follow it upstream, it will take us out of Fire Nation territory. We will be able to find a village and a healer.”

“And supplies,” Zuko said pointedly. “And a map.”

Chapter Text

Why was the Earth Kingdom so hot?

They were as far north as they could possibly get while still being on the mainland. The moon had risen, a waxing sliver in the sky, and the night air had a bite to it every time the wind picked up.

He still felt flush, overwarm and sweating from the run and now from stumbling through the trees, and—and Sokka wasn’t stupid, okay, he knew that it wasn’t the weather that was making him so warm, he knew that he was hurt, and it was bad. It had to be, because Iroh kept watching him with thin-lipped worry when he thought Sokka wasn’t looking, and he was tired, shaky, though it was hard to tell if that was the burn or the weeks spent with too little food, adrift at sea.

Zuko wasn’t helping. Zuko was hovering, like he didn’t trust him to handle himself. Sokka had stumbled on a tree root a few miles back, and Zuko had caught his elbow and just not let go. He was radiating heat like a campfire. Sokka wasn’t even sure he was aware he was doing it, just breathing steady, tight breaths and glaring every time his uncle glanced over with concern.

“I can walk on my own,” Sokka said. His skin was clammy under Zuko’s hand—that had to be unpleasant, but he was acting like he didn’t notice, even though the heat was all Sokka could think about. Zuko met his gaze in the darkness. He was silent for a long moment, but his grip stayed firm on Sokka’s arm even as his eyes slid away.

“I know you can,” Zuko said softly.

They’d followed the footpath along the Su Oku river until it merged with a wider road—the trade road, probably, that led down to the same Fire Nation occupied town that the resort did business with. They abandoned it for the forest, still following the river bank but now over untrodden ground. Walking was even more difficult here, without the path. His feet stung with little cuts and scrapes. His chest hurt, too, but it was hard to tell whether that was the pain from the burn creeping up under his ribs, or his gasping breaths stinging his lungs.

He wished they could slow down, maybe, just a little. He was not going to ask, because he was slowing them down enough as it was.

“I’m all right,” Sokka said, after a long time had passed with nothing but the shuffle of their feet in the underbrush, and Sokka’s too-loud breathing in his ears. He’d been sicker than this before. What did it matter that last time, he’d gotten to lie down and rest, wrapped in his own bedroll? What did it matter that last time, he’d had his sister...

“You said that already,” Zuko said. He didn’t even sound frustrated, which might be worse than the yelling, and the general bad attitude that Sokka had gotten so used to.

“Well, I am,” Sokka said. It felt important that he knew that. Zuko just nodded.

They walked through the night. It took every scrap of his focus to keep his feet—one foot in front of the other, counting his steps, tracking the filtered moonlight as the hours wore on. Zuko seemed restless by the blue hours of dawn, glancing over his shoulder too often, grip too tight on Sokka’s arm. The forest had seemed oppressive, before, still and silent, but now in the full light it felt much too exposed. Iroh stopped and squinted at the canopy, and the buttery morning light spotting through the trees.

“I think we should find somewhere to rest,” Iroh said. “Traveling during the daytime seems unwise.”

He didn’t wait for Zuko to agree, just began to steer them deeper into the trees. Zuko looked like he wanted to argue, but he followed along anyway. He must have been worrying about being spotted in the daylight, just as much as his uncle was.

“Just until nightfall,” he said tightly, once they’d found a suitable spot to stop. “We can’t risk staying in one place for too long.”

He was talking to his uncle, but his eyes were on Sokka as he said it, and he still hadn’t let go of his arm.

“M’okay,” Sokka said.

“And how are you, nephew?” Iroh asked, voice surprisingly gentle. That seemed to startle Zuko, but it didn’t last long before his expression was shuttering into another glare.

“I’m fine,” Zuko snapped. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

His hand tightened on Sokka’s arm, just shy of painfully.

“Nephew,” Iroh said. He touched Zuko’s wrist, and Zuko snatched his hand back from both of them with a sharp inhale. He crossed his arms tightly in front of himself instead, as Sokka swayed a little at the loss of support.

Sokka sat down right there in the grass, trying to catch his breath. He folded his arms over his knees and pressed his forehead into the crease of his elbow. Iroh was staring at Zuko with a concern Sokka felt like he ought to understand, but he was just so exhausted from running. He could barely keep his eyes open, let alone puzzle over Zuko’s moods.

It was such a relief, just to sit and tip his head down, even if the ground was cold and he felt sweaty and chilled at the same time. He blinked and time slid treacherously forward—they’d moved while he wasn’t looking. Zuko stomped around, digging through his bag, and Iroh had turned to… pulling up plants by the roots… and shaking them? Shaking them with purpose, scattering dirt all over the ground and Zuko’s shoes. Sokka laughed, too tired to bother stifling it, when he caught sight of Zuko’s murderous face.

“Uncle, what are you doing?” Zuko asked.

“The root of this plant can be shaved and used for tea. Good for pain, and fever—”

“No strange plants,” Zuko said. “You’ll kill him.”

“If it would make you feel better,” Iroh said, “I could try it first.”

“No, Uncle,” Zuko said more forcefully. “I can’t carry both of you when you poison yourself!”

“I have…” Sokka mumbled, and Zuko and Iroh both turned to look at him, like they hadn’t realized he was listening. He was frustratingly clumsy, fishing around in his pockets, “Apricherries?”

He pulled out a handful, all squished and stuck together now. Sokka peeled them apart into two, uneven lumps, and held them out. Zuko stared at them like he’d never seen anything stranger in his life.

“If… you’re hungry,” he added helpfully. Sokka wasn’t hungry. Sokka kind of felt like he was going to throw up, “It won’t poison you?”

Wasn’t that what they were talking about? Maybe not, if the baffled look on Zuko’s face was anything to go by. He was kind of having a hard time grasping the thread of the conversation again, but that was fine. He set the lump of fruit in Zuko’s hand. There.

“He’s getting worse,” Zuko said plainly. That was… rude. Was that rude? Sokka wasn’t… totally sure, anymore. Zuko was holding his fruit with both hands, like he was afraid he’d drop them. It was fine, if he did. Sokka had more. He thought to say as much. He tipped his head down against his knee and closed his eyes, instead.

“Let him sleep, Prince Zuko,” Iroh said. “You should as well. I’ll keep watch.”

Someone was shaking his shoulder. He felt like he’d been buried under a stack of furs, like someone had stoked the fire too high. Sokka groaned, and tried to shove the hands away—he was tired, his head was swimming, please just…

Zuko shook him, roughly, and Sokka snapped awake.

Sokka felt like he’d barely closed his eyes, but it was fully dark again, so he must have been sleeping for hours. For a moment Zuko just looked at him. And then… Sokka might not be fully awake yet, because Zuko reached out and touched his forehead, gently, and his cheek, frowning thoughtfully. Sokka blinked at him. Zuko crossed his arms quickly and leaned away.

“Enough sleeping,” he said quietly. “We need to keep going.”

“I’m awake,” Sokka mumbled. Zuko was staring at him with that annoyed, pinched expression, like he’d sucked on a pomelo lemon and blamed Sokka for the taste.

“Can you walk?” he asked. Sokka huffed.

“I’m fine,” he said, with more confidence than he felt.

“...Good. I’m going to talk to Uncle,” Zuko said. “So just… wait here.”

Sokka wasn’t planning on going anywhere, so he nodded tiredly. He could hear Zuko whispering to his uncle. He was whispering about Sokka, he knew. He wasn’t stupid.

“—ot much farther, I think,” Iroh said. “Can you see the lights—?”

He wondered if Zuko would even notice if he took a quick nap. He’d seemed grumpy, not that that was unusual. Maybe he was just sick of stumbling through the dark with Sokka dragging him down.

“—see anything through these stupid trees!” Sokka tilted his head to the side, in time to watch Zuko stomp off in the other direction.

He wasn’t sure how long he dozed, whether it was hours or just moments, but it was still dark when someone touched his arm. Sokka flinched, and then doubled over, hissing through clenched teeth.

“Easy,” Iroh said, putting a hand under Sokka’s arm. “Time to go.”

Zuko was standing a few feet ahead of them, looking impatient, arms crossed tightly over his chest. Sokka guessed he was supposed to be grateful that they hadn’t agreed to just leave him behind entirely. Sokka clenched his teeth, breathed through his nose, and didn’t complain when Iroh nudged him to rise.

He could have cried, when they spotted the first rooftop through the trees, and the forest gave way to cleared, cultivated land. Appa would have flown right over here on their way north, or at least, close enough to have seen the town if they’d looked. None of it looked familiar to him now, but still, it was a relief to see—all Earth Kingdom architecture, without a hint of Fire Nation influence.

They hadn’t seen any curious citizens peeking out from behind their curtains, although he wasn’t certain if it was the hour, or whether, this close to Fire Nation occupied territory, it was simply safer to mind their own business and not welcome strangers at their doors. They’d gotten directions from a tired-looking man standing watch by the city gates, who had looked at the three of them like they were rat vipers, gaze following them long after they’d passed him by.

The clinic was two-storied and dotted with windows, but most of the lights had been doused, and the main doors were dark and quiet. Zuko pulled him over to a smaller entrance on the side, where a single lantern was still burning over the doorway, and slammed his fist against the wood. Sokka leaned against the doorframe and closed his eyes, listening to the hesitant approach of footsteps and the quiet click of a latch.

The girl who peeked out looked wary at first, and then surprised to see them, even though it couldn’t have been that unusual to call on a healer in the middle of the night.

“Excuse me. Are you a healer?” Iroh asked.

“I’m sorry, we’re closed,” she said quietly. She turned her back to the darkened clinic and gave Iroh a short bow. “This is just a walk-in clinic. There’s another hospital in the next town over, it’s just a few miles down the… road.”

Just one town over. A few miles. Sokka… Sokka could do a few miles, that was fine. That was fine. That wasn’t far.

Zuko’s hand tightened on his arm as he tried to nod. The girl had been speaking to Iroh, but her face fell when she finally looked at him, eyes flicking over his pain drawn face, his thin robes, down to the blackened scorch marks on his clothes, and the rusty fingerprints from gripping his side. Her hand twitched, a half-aborted attempt to touch before she drew her fist back to her chest.

“What happened?” she asked.

Zuko exchanged a quick glance with his uncle. They hesitated a moment too long, and the girl shook her head. She turned back and pushed open the door.

“It doesn’t matter,” she said. “Bring him inside.”

Sokka was sweating enough already, but it was even more stuffy inside. The girl—

(Was she a healer? She’d said they were closed. Was this just a random worker? Maybe she was the bookkeeper. Or a janitor. Or—)

The girl led them through a wide, open room with two rows of empty examination tables. Half of the interior walls and most of the doors were made from the same, impractical mulberry shrub paper as back at the resort. She slid the door back into the wall and ushered them inside.

There were real beds in this room, all of them thankfully empty. She gestured Zuko toward the back one. He dumped Sokka on the edge of the one nearest to the door instead, because he was a stubborn jerk that couldn’t follow instructions. He was pacing a little, across the room and then to the window. Sokka watched him go, almost fascinated by how serious he looked, when he was the one on the bed…

She touched his forehead, and Sokka tore his eyes away.

“You’re feverish,” she told him. “How long has it been?”

How long had it been since he’d been burned, or how long had he had a fever? He should know, either way, but he could barely think. Spirits, he was thirsty...

“Over a day,” Iroh said.

Sokka blinked at him, and at Zuko, the drawn expressions on their faces. Hah. Impatient, probably, to wash their hands of him, now that he was here and hurt and not useful anymore. They were probably going to leave him behind now. They’d already tried once.

Zuko was frowning at the healer from the other side of the room, as tense as if he was going on trial, which… yeah, okay, he probably didn’t want her finding out he was Fire Nation.

Sokka could just tell her. Right now. There was nothing stopping him. Maybe Zuko knew it. Maybe that was why he was looking at him like that, all tense and worried. Sokka wouldn’t, though. He wasn’t a jerk. He was—

“My name is Song,” she said, quietly. She tapped his hand, to get his attention. “Can you lean forward for me?”

“Sorry,” he said, leaning up so he wasn’t sagging back against the wall anymore. She reached under his arms to undo the ties of his robe, quick and clinical.

The fabric stuck to the edge of the burn. Sokka gripped the side of the bed, white knuckled, teeth clenched tightly as Song dabbed at the fabric with a wet cloth until it unstuck enough to pull away. She folded the shoulder of his robe down for him when his hands were too clumsy to do it himself.

She touched his forehead again, his cheek, so gently that his eyes prickled with heat. He was just—tired, and a little homesick. He didn’t want to be reminded of Katara right now, but it was hard not to be, with how cold her hands were against his flushed skin. He blinked a few times, trying to get control of himself. He was fine. She smiled at him, reassuring, and handed him a cup.

“Drink this,” she said.

The drink tasted awful, but he was too tired to complain. The air inside the clinic was even worse than outside, uncomfortably warm. Even the light resort robes were already sticking to his skin. How could she even stand this? She touched his neck to get his attention again, which was about when Sokka realized he’d been drifting.

“I’m going to bandage this,” she said, easing him down onto his back. The sheets were white. He was going to get them dirty. “You can sleep if you want.”

He shouldn’t. They’d only been walking for a few hours, tonight. They’d barely cleared Fire Nation territory, and… and Zuko and Iroh were fine, and awake, and if he slept now they’d leave him behind…

The cot was more comfortable than it had any right being. He’d slept on nothing but the sea spray damp deck of their raft for weeks, in the cold...

“He needs to rest,” she said quietly.

Just as Sokka thought to protest that he didn’t, the warm flush of the medicine started to dull the searing pain in his side. He gasped, a little, surprised by the sudden relief. She squeezed his hand. Exhaustion washed after that relief in a wave, dragging him down to sleep.

He listened for the sounds of the ocean, gentle waves lapping against the sides of the raft. It was quiet, just some muffled rustling coming from somewhere, and… birds?

Sokka snapped awake, confused, tried to sit up—

His side flared, and he grunted in pain. Ugh, okay, nope.

Sokka grit his teeth and breathed through it, until the stabbing subsided into a dull burning. He blinked at the ceiling clinic, not the open sky stretching above the sea.

Right. They’d made landfall, and…

He sat up again, slowly this time. Sokka’s muscles were clumsy with sleep, or maybe that was a side effect of whatever had been in that drink she’d given him. The other beds lined up along the wall were empty, stiff bedding neatly made. There were shelves pressed unevenly into the corners of the room, stacked high with clutter and clean sheets. An astringent smell hung in the air. He looked around, but there was no sign of anyone else, either.

He felt strange, not waking on the rolling waves. It was a little disorienting, like the ground was too still, the air too quiet. It was even more quiet than usual, actually, because Zuko was nowhere in sight. Through the half-drawn curtains, Sokka could see the sun marching toward its peak. He must have been asleep for hours—much, much too long. Sokka leaned forward on his elbows, pushing the loose hair back from his face.

How stupid. They’d have had the whole morning’s head start, maybe even part of the night, if they hadn’t stopped to sleep after ditching him. His chest felt too tight, hard to breathe around. He clenched his hands into fists. How was he going to find them again?

Sokka huffed a short breath, trying to calm his ratcheting heartbeat. His side protested, a little. Not as much as before, at least, and that was maybe the only thing going for him right now. His robe was still folded down at the shoulder. His side was bandaged with thick white gauze, held loosely in place with another bandage wound over his stomach. The little cut on his thumb had been bandaged, too, and the scraped-raw skin on his feet, from running through the forest without shoes. Even his wrists looked better—he wondered, briefly, how they’d explained that one, or whether they’d even stuck around long enough to make excuses. Sokka prodded, gently, at the edge of the bandage over the burn.

He was tempted to peek, just to see how bad it was. He… probably shouldn’t. The pain had dulled while he slept, between the medicine Song had given him and the dressing. He really, really didn’t want to irritate it again, not when it had dialed back from searing pain to only faintly burning.

Someone knocked politely on the door.

The sound startled him, which made him jump, which made him wince again. Sokka doubled over for a moment, hissing under his breath. The door slid quietly aside.

It was Song. She poked her head into the room first, and brightened when she found him awake. She pushed the door open the rest of the way, a fully stacked tray balanced on one arm. The door stuck a little on its track as she slid it closed behind her.

“Good morning,” Song said. The tray’s contents rattled quietly as she set it down. “You’re looking better…?”

“Sokka,” he said, voice raspy with disuse. He grimaced and smacked his tongue.

“Sokka,” she said lightly. “Well, Mushi is making tea, if you’d like some.”

Sokka nodded a bit absently. He didn’t know who that was, but he was so thirsty he’d drink anything she handed to him, really. She smiled and added, “Lee is just outside, if you’d like me to tell him you’re awake.”

That part she added like he ought to know who she was talking about. He scrubbed a hand over his face, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He felt grimy, and fuzzy in a way that put him off-balance.

“Uh,” Sokka said. “Who?”

She gave him a puzzled smile. “Oh, um. Junior? Your friend.”

Sokka stared at her for another long moment, confused. It took an embarrassingly long time for his brain to catch up with her words.

Oh.

Mushi and Junior must be…

They hadn’t left him behind.

Relief prickled through him, followed immediately by confusion, and suspicion. They hadn’t left him behind. Why hadn’t they left him behind? They’d had every opportunity to, and Zuko had seemed pretty desperate to get rid of him before.

Maybe Zuko had… changed his mind, and he still wanted to know where Sokka thought Aang might have gone, after all. His fingers curled around the blanket in his lap. The fabric was rough, and not very warm.

“I guess… you can tell him,” Sokka said. He might as well get it over with.

“Let’s have a look at you, first,” she said. She brought the tray over to his bedside, bandages and medicine and scissors. He watched warily as she set the materials out.

Sokka didn’t look as she changed the bandage. It hurt less than it had before, maybe from the cold salve she dabbed over his side, or maybe from the medicine she made him drink right after, as bitter and disgusting as he remembered it.

“It’s easy for a burn this size to get infected,” Song said, tone overly clinical, like she was reciting from a manual. “So keep an eye on it, and keep it clean. I’ll give you a salve and something for the pain to take with you.”

“Thank you,” Sokka said.

“Leave it covered for now,” she added. “I think—your friend can probably help with the bandages, if you need.”

She shifted the tray aside, then set to fixing the new bandage in place. Sokka watched her deft fingers tuck in a stray edge so it couldn’t snag on anything.

“He’s not my friend,” Sokka said before he could think better of it. He quickly clarified, “We’re just traveling together.”

“He seemed worried about you,” Song said.

Well. Sokka didn’t really know what to do with that information.

Zuko had done a lot of confusing things in the last few weeks. Pulling him out of the water, tying him up, getting him caught by his sister, rescuing him from his sister, trying to ditch him in the woods, and now, apparently, fretting over Sokka’s sickbed.

He wished Zuko would just make up his mind and pick one, because he was starting to get whiplash.

“That’s… nice of him,” Sokka allowed.

Song’s frown took a little disapproving tilt, which he didn’t think was very fair, since Sokka was clearly not the one in the wrong here. He couldn’t explain that without giving Zuko and Iroh away, though, so now he was just stuck looking like an ungrateful jerk.

He didn’t get a chance to defend himself. The door scraped along its track, and Zuko stalked inside. He froze when he saw Sokka awake. His gaze flicked down to his side and back up again rapidly. Sokka tugged his robe back up.

Song glanced over her shoulder and offered a smile.

“Sokka and I were just talking about you,” she said lightly, which just made Zuko more tense. Sokka raised an eyebrow at him, and the startled rabbit-deer look on his face.

“Can you give me and... Junior a minute?” Sokka asked Song.

Song nodded and offered him a small smile. She squeezed his shoulder lightly, almost reassuring, even though Sokka didn’t know what for. She did the same thing for Zuko on the way out, and Zuko stared at the spot on his shoulder like he’d been poisoned. Sokka waited for the door to slide closed, and then a moment longer, not really sure what to say.

“So,” Sokka said.

“You shouldn’t have told her your real name,” Zuko said without preamble. He looked stiff, like he didn’t know what he was doing here, and annoyed, like always.

Sokka scoffed. Spirits, he was irritating.

“Why not? I haven’t done anything,” Sokka said. “Last I heard, you two are the only ones who are wanted by the Earth Kingdom.”

“Well, we’re all wanted by the Fire Nation, and Azula knows who you are,” Zuko said.

“I never told your sister my name,” Sokka said.

“She knows,” Zuko said, without a shred of doubt, his expression severe enough to send a prickle up Sokka’s spine.

“Well, so what? It’s just a name,” Sokka said.

“She tracked us to that resort the day we made landfall. You don’t think she can find you if you give people your real name?”

Okay, fair point.

Except that giving people his real name was the only way word might get back to Aang and Katara that he was out here—not that that wasn’t already a long shot, but still.

If they thought he was dead, then that meant it was all on Sokka to figure out how to get back to them. What if they got lost, without him there to navigate? What if they needed him? They’d left home planning to do the impossible—train the Avatar, fight the Fire Nation, end the war—but that hadn’t felt so daunting, when he’d had Aang and Katara and Suki and Yue. They’d been together, and now...

Now it was like… it was like when he was out on the ice, with the stars above and nothing but wide, open plains in every direction, only he was looking out and it wasn’t familiar and home, it was just lonely and too much. It was enough to make a bending master feel small, and Sokka was just… one guy. He didn’t have a sky bison. He didn’t even have shoes. How was he supposed to do that alone?

Well, maybe not alone. Zuko leaned against one of the empty beds, arms crossed over his chest. He wasn’t glaring anymore, not quite, but he looked supremely uncomfortable, stiff on the edge of the bed like he hadn’t fully decided if he wanted to sit down or run back out the door again.

“If you’re so worried about your sister finding you, why are you still here?” Sokka asked.

“Did you want us to leave you behind?” Zuko asked.

“No,” Sokka said, maybe a little too quickly. He didn’t want to travel the Earth Kingdom alone normally, let alone with Zuko’s crazy sister chasing him. Maybe if they split up she would go after Zuko instead, but Sokka wasn’t going to risk being caught and used as a bargaining chip for Aang. “I just meant... you could have ditched me with the healer last night, guilt-free, but instead you waited.”

“I’m not waiting for you,” Zuko said stiffly. “I’m waiting for my uncle. When he’s ready, we’ll go.”

Sokka stared at him. “Sure.”

“He’s tired,” Zuko insisted.

“Sure,” Sokka said again. Zuko glared at him. It was… more half-hearted, than his usual glare. It was kind of a weird look on Zuko, actually, and a little self-conscious. Sokka was much more used to the spectrum of emotions between angry and pretentious, and this felt like uncertain territory.

Zuko seemed like he had something else to say, wearing a pinched sort of look and staring resolutely at the door. He clearly wasn’t going to come out with it, though, because he was too stubborn for his own good.

“What?” Sokka asked.

“You look...” he said, and then trailed off again.

“Alive?” Sokka guessed.

“You weren’t dying,” Zuko snapped. “Don’t be dramatic.”

That startled a sharp laugh from him. Sokka winced a little when the motion jarred his side, but… spirits.

“You are the last person who should be telling me not to be dramatic,” Sokka said. “Ugh, ow. Don’t make me laugh.”

“I’m not trying to,” Zuko shouted.

“Well, obviously,” Sokka said. “Has anyone ever told you to lighten up?”

Zuko bristled, but before Sokka could brace himself for more shouting, someone knocked on the door.

“Come in,” Sokka said, expecting Song, maybe here to yell at Zuko for disturbing her other patients. Instead the door slid aside to reveal Iroh, entirely unphased, as he always was, by his nephew’s shouting. He was carrying a wooden tray, with a small clay teapot and three worn cups. He looked immensely pleased with himself. The sight of him made Zuko sigh, exasperated, but some of the tension that had been building in his shoulders while they talked about his sister seemed to ease.

“Good morning,” Iroh said. He squinted out the window as he set the tray down. “Or perhaps good afternoon, now. You’re looking better.”

“I feel better,” Sokka said, glancing over at Zuko. “Just… tired. And thirsty.”

At that, Iroh smiled. He poured three cups, set one gently on the bedside table near Sokka’s elbow, and then handed a second to Zuko. Zuko took it mechanically, without really even looking at it.

Sokka wasn’t much of a tea drinker, and definitely not the delicate teas Iroh was probably used to. Maybe once, his village would have had the people to harvest and trade teas like fireweed and cloudberry, but that was before the raids. Anyway, the teas Gran Gran had always made him drink were for medicine, not pleasure, and called up memories of hiding under furs or running to the neighbors’ to avoid having to drink them. If they’d wanted Earth Kingdom blends it would have had to be imported, and in Sokka’s village… yeah, not exactly high on the priority list.

He’d had it in his travels as they crossed the Earth Kingdom, though. This tasted much better than Katara had made it—not that he’d ever tell her that, because she’d probably just get mad, call him ungrateful, and make him cook, and then they’d all suffer...

Sokka swallowed the rising lump of loneliness before it could take shape, and forced himself to focus on the taste instead of the memory. The tea was earthy with a bit of a bite to it—ginger, probably, because the Earth Kingdom seemed to think that ginger was the cure for everything. Iroh hummed contentedly as he sipped his cup. Zuko mostly just glared at it.

Sokka glanced between the two of them, waiting for one of them to say something. Wasn’t this the part where they started interrogating him again? He was… a little confused, why they were in here, drinking tea of all things, instead of telling him what they wanted.

Zuko had told him to leave that night by the river, and had seemed pretty annoyed when Sokka refused. They’d still helped him though, and found him a healer. Zuko had been practically carrying Sokka by time they’d finally reached the clinic. That ought to have been the end of it.

But then Zuko and Iroh had stayed, not just to get some sleep for themselves, but well into the morning, when they could have been putting more distance between themselves and the neighboring Fire Nation occupied territory.

Sokka had been rolling the why over in his mind, and really… the only explanation that made sense was that Zuko still wanted information out of him. Information that Sokka had told him about a dozen times that he didn’t have, that would lead them to Aang.

(Information that Sokka was pretty sure he did have, if he knew Aang as well as he thought he did.)

But… but even if he didn’t want Zuko to find Aang, Sokka still needed to find him, and he didn’t think he could do it alone. So.

“I think we should go to Omashu,” Sokka said.

Iroh frowned and set his cup gently on the table.

“Omashu is a long way from here,” he said.

This was so stupid. He shouldn’t trust Zuko with this. This was exactly what Zuko had wanted—what he’d been trying to pry out of Sokka for weeks, on the raft and in the resort.

But they were in Earth Kingdom territory now. Zuko and Iroh were wanted here, and they were wanted by the Fire Nation, too. Even if Sokka told them where Aang was, they didn’t have a crew, they didn’t have a ship… And wasn’t that a strange role reversal? For once, Sokka had the upper hand. All Sokka had to do was tell someone who Lee and Mushi really were, and…

“Aang’s friend lives in Omashu,” Sokka said. “He’s an earthbender, and Aang needs an earthbending teacher. I think… that’s probably where they’re headed next.”

Zuko looked surprised at first, and then almost annoyed that Sokka was finally admitting that he’d lied to him.

“And you’re sure he’ll be there?” Zuko asked.

“Well, no,” Sokka admitted. “I mean, Aang’s twelve. He gets… sidetracked, sometimes, and… what?”

Iroh had a strange expression on his face, uncharacteristically somber.

“I’m afraid the Avatar won’t be going to Omashu,” Iroh said.

“Why?” Sokka asked, stomach dropping like a stone. It was the way he said it, so certain and yet so carefully gentle, that made his stomach flip—the same voice he’d used on the raft, for Yue. “How could you know that?”

“Because by now Omashu has fallen to the Fire Nation,” he said. “The city was already a target before the Siege of the North began.”

“What? No,” Sokka said. He pushed the blanket down, suddenly too restless to stay in bed. Even if Omashu was a target, it just didn’t make sense, not with King Bumi there. “You don’t know this guy, he’s—he’s a crazy strong bender.”

“One man can certainly make a difference, in the right circumstance. However—”

“There’s no way the Fire Nation could take Omashu,” Sokka interrupted. He nearly shouted it, but Iroh didn’t even seem phased. He only shook his head, at Sokka, and at Zuko who had started to rise from his own seat, scowl firmly in place.

“I have seen the plans for the invasion myself,” Iroh said grimly. “It is likely that your friends will learn of the city’s fate and move on, long before we could reach them.”

Sokka kind of regretted standing, because he felt a little like the floor was sliding under him, like the phantom rolling of their raft on the waves—unsteady. He pressed his knuckles into his eyes, and resisted the urge to scream in frustration.

Why couldn’t anything just be easy?

“I know this news may be difficult for you—”

“No! This isn’t difficult!” Sokka said. He took a breath, tried to hold it, and then winced as it tugged his burned side. “Finding Aang and Katara in Omashu would have been difficult!” He dragged his fingers roughly through his hair. “This is…”

Impossible.

It was impossible.

How could he possibly find them, in all of the Earth Kingdom, on foot—

Iroh rested a hand on his shoulder, gently, eyes soft with sympathy.

“Perhaps for now, continuing to hunt for the Avatar is not the answer,” Iroh said. He was looking at his nephew while he said it, and didn’t flinch when Zuko turned his glare on him, instead. “I am merely suggesting that there are more immediate problems to solve. Princess Azula—”

The door opened again, and Iroh cut off abruptly, as all three of them turned to stare. Sokka cringed immediately, because wow, that wasn’t suspicious at all. His heart was pounding, but Iroh’s hand was still there on his shoulder—he tried to focus on that, and not the anxiety churning in his stomach.

Song hesitated for only a moment, taking in the scene, before she let herself into the room.

“Oh, good, you’re up,” Song said, pretending politely not to notice the tension, or the cageyness. “It’s good to walk around a little, if you’re feeling up to it.”

She had an enormous wooden box in her arms, the corner of it propped against the wall to keep from dropping it. It looked heavy, and Zuko made a half-aborted move to help her before Song hefted the box up onto the table on her own.

“You looked like you could use some fresh clothes,” she said, pulling the lid back to show them.

The box was stacked to the brim with old clothes, folded and jammed in as tightly as they would fit. The fabric was worn, some worse than others, but all clean. Zuko eyed the box warily, like it might give him septapox if he got too close.

“Are these… dead people clothes?” he whispered to his uncle.

Sokka thumbed the fabric of one of the tunics from the top of the stack and held it up to the light. It definitely looked second-hand, with a few carefully placed stitches along the threadier edges of the seams. Everything was in varying shades of Earth Kingdom greens and browns, work clothes, mostly, without any embellishments, but warm and comfortable. It definitely beat scorched spa robes, spotted with blood and filthy from nights spent running through the forest.

Anyway, he would need it, if he was going to...

“That’s very kind,” Iroh said. “I’m afraid we can’t afford much.”

“Please, these were all donated,” she said. “You’re welcome to take anything that fits. And let me find you a pair of boots,” she added to Sokka. “I’ll be right back.”

“Donated,” Zuko muttered under his breath, once she was out of earshot. He was hovering over Sokka’s shoulder, peering into the box with a look of deep skepticism. It wasn’t like they could be picky—all of them were still wearing the light robes from the resort. They were too obviously Fire Nation in style and color, and even if they weren’t, they wouldn’t stand up to heavy wear.

Sokka picked out a plain green tunic. Every pair of pants he pulled out ran slightly too long. Katara could have fixed it for him, but he didn’t know how to hem them himself, so he settled for rolling them up. Zuko joined him, reluctantly, in sorting through the piles.

It was honestly a little creepy, watching Zuko and Iroh holding up green-and-brown tunics, looking… normal, like just another pair of Earth Kingdom refugees. That was what they would have to be, though, if they wanted to travel through the Earth Kingdom undiscovered. Zuko caught Sokka staring as he pulled his new light-green shirt over his head, and flushed red.

“What?” he asked. Sokka shrugged.

“You look weird in green,” Sokka said, wondering if he’d turn purple. Zuko scoffed.

“Well you look weird with—here, just take this,” Zuko said. He reached over to dig into the open pocket of his bag, and flung something at Sokka’s head. His reflexes weren’t quite back up to normal, so it smacked him in the cheek, and fell on the floor.

Sokka grabbed it, with one hand bracing his side and a glare fixed firmly on Zuko. He turned it over in his hand. It was the leather hairband Zuko had been using, before he’d cut his ponytail off. He ran a thumb over the grooves, where the sides were embossed with a simple braided pattern. It seemed surprisingly humble, for a prince.

“For your hair,” Zuko added, because he clearly thought Sokka was stupid.

“Yeah, I got that,” Sokka said. He hesitated. “Thanks.” Sokka pulled his wolf tail back with the tie. “I’ll put it toward your debt.”

Zuko sputtered. “What debt?”

“You still owe me, for saving you from your sister,” Sokka said. “You’d have walked right into her brig if I hadn’t said anything.”

“I practically carried you all the way here,” Zuko said. “We’re even.”

“We’re not even. Who’s fault is it that I got burned in the first place?”

“Your own! Azula captured you without my help.”

“You’re the one who—” Sokka started to say.

Iroh cut them off with a pointed, if pleasant, “Boys, perhaps this is an argument for another time.”

Sokka scoffed, but before he could say anything else, Song let herself back into the room with a pair of boots in one hand.

“Here,” Song said. The boots were a loose fit, but it was better than going barefoot. They’d be even better, with a pair of thick socks, if he could find some in the donations pile.

“Thank you,” Iroh said. “It seems we were very lucky to end up here. Isn’t that right, Junior?”

Sokka stifled a laugh while Zuko shot his uncle an absolutely withering look.

“You’re refugees, aren’t you?” Song asked. Zuko glanced up from the box with a thin frown. “I don’t mean to pry. Just, my mother and I were refugees too, once. I understand what you’re going through.”

Sokka was absolutely positive that she didn’t.

Zuko nodded hesitantly anyway, and she continued, “I’m sure my mother wouldn’t mind, if I invited you to our home for dinner before you have to move on.”

“That’s very kind of you,” Iroh said.

“But no,” Zuko interrupted. “We should be going.”

“Where do you live, exactly?” Iroh asked, undeterred.

“I’m starving,” Sokka added, pointedly ignoring the irritated noise Zuko made. He tugged his new boots on quickly, and stood to test them. Zuko seemed to be trying to scream at his uncle with his eyes, and Iroh was steadfastly pretending not to notice.

Whatever. It was two on one, and Zuko owed him. Sokka was eating a real meal for once, and then Zuko was going to help him find the Avatar.

Chapter Text

By the time Song had locked up the clinic, Sokka was feeling better, well enough to walk without Zuko’s annoying hovering… which was good, because Zuko had been pouting since he and Iroh outvoted him, as though he wasn’t just as starving as the rest of them. The discomfort from his side was nothing compared to his eagerness to eat real food, at a table, with both hands untied and no threats from Fire Nation royalty hanging over his head.

She led them down one of the side paths branching off the main road, winding up into the hills where the forest and the elevation created an illusion of privacy. They passed farmland along the way, but it was too dark to see what was growing and too early in the season for there to be much to look at, anyway. It stretched on for several miles, though, with the distant light of Song’s house guiding them up the hillside.

Her house seemed much too large for just two people. Sokka almost thought to say as much—and then his mind supplied the explanation, why only two people might be living in a home this big, and he kept his observation to himself.

Song’s mother was waiting when they arrived. She smiled and waved Iroh off as he apologized for the intrusion, as though it really was no trouble for her to feed five mouths instead of two without warning. The dining room was open to the cool night air. She quickly set the table for guests with tea and bowls of soup.

Song sat down at one side of the table, next to the cushion at the head of the table that must have been reserved for her mother. Sokka quickly grabbed the seat beside her, so that he wouldn’t have to sit beside Zuko. His burn twinged as he lowered himself onto his knees. He shifted around until he was sitting with his legs crossed instead, wincing.

“Thank you for the invitation to your lovely home,” Iroh said, when Song’s mother came back into the room. She was carrying a tray with some kind of roast duck with vegetables, and the smell of it alone was enough to make Sokka want to cry.

Zuko had looked like he wanted to be anywhere else but here on the entire walk to Song’s home, but he looked at the duck like it was the most offensive thing that he had ever seen. Thankfully, Song’s mother was too preoccupied carving off slices to notice his expression. Sokka rolled his eyes. He was such a snooty jerk. It wasn’t like they could be picky, and he was going to be in for a pretty rude awakening when he realized it.

Sokka glared at him, and maybe he realized that he was being incredibly rude, or maybe he just remembered that he was still annoyed at Sokka and his uncle for forcing him to come here, because he turned to glare at his soup instead. At least he was polite, when he turned down Song’s mother’s offer of the duck.

Whatever. He could stick to his soup and vegetables. Sokka didn’t care—more meat for him.

Song’s mother smiled at Iroh, and served him a piece, and then served Sokka two.

Sokka liked Katara’s cooking. She was pretty good at it, and if he gave her a hard time about it that was just his prerogative as an older brother, but there was something about a home cooked meal that even Katara would agree she couldn’t match. It made him miss his Gran Gran. His mother, too, but that wasn’t the same kind of ache.

Sokka focused on his food, instead, and for a while they ate in hungry silence—at least, Sokka did. Zuko looked deeply uncomfortable, even more so beside his uncle, who seemed completely at home at their table.

Song’s mother smiled faintly when Sokka started eyeing seconds. She leaned over to refill his plate, and took the opportunity to clear her throat and glance over toward Iroh.

“My daughter tells me you’re refugees,” she said lightly. “We were once refugees ourselves.”

The look she gave Iroh was full of sympathy, with a strange sort of understanding in her eyes that reminded him of the way Dad and Gran Gran’s eyes would meet over the fire, when they were trying to work their way around a topic they didn’t want Sokka to worry about. It used to make him bristle, back when they were still together, when he was still indignantly trying to insist he was grown. That look dug a lot deeper, the night before the men left. It mostly just made him homesick, now.

“That must have been hard,” Sokka said, glancing away from the exchange to look at Song. She smiled a little and scraped her chopsticks over the edge of her plate, picking around the lotus leeks she’d shuffled to the side.

“It… was. But that was a long time ago,” Song said. She hesitated, like he hadn’t quite decided whether to leave it there. She glanced across the table at Zuko. Their eyes met. She sighed. She straightened her shoulders. “When I was a little girl, the Fire Nation raided our farming village. All the men were taken away. That was the last time I saw my father.”

The words made Sokka’s chest constrict. He took a sip of his soup, trying to force the feeling down enough to respond. Zuko beat him to it.

“I haven’t seen my father in many years,” Zuko said.

Sokka’s head snapped up. That was not the same thing. Sokka glared at him while Song asked if Zuko’s father was fighting in the war, and Zuko said yes when he knew damn well that that wasn’t what she meant. Sokka’s sympathy for Song hardened into something unpleasant in his chest, as he met Zuko’s eye.

Sokka couldn’t believe him. Zuko didn’t even look sorry for lying, or—maybe not lying, but definitely not telling the whole truth. He clenched his hands into fists under the table.

“The Fire Nation attacked our village, too,” Sokka said, feeling a vindictive jab in his chest at the startled look on Zuko’s face.

He wasn’t going to give them away, but it served Zuko right to worry that he was. He held Zuko’s gaze steadily as he continued.

“At first they took our benders,” he said. “But by the time they were done there weren’t enough benders to take. So they just killed the last person they suspected of being a bender. My—my mom. My dad left a few years later, to fight in the war, so it was just me and my sister, but...”

There was something satisfying, in the way Zuko’s eyes widened. He told himself that was what it was—satisfying—and ignored the guilt that came after, when Zuko turned down to stare at his food.

None of them had seen their fathers in years, but it wasn’t the same.

“We got separated,” Sokka finished.

“Oh,” Song said, “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Sokka said. “It wasn’t your fault.”

Zuko was still staring at his bowl, but his fingers tightened around his chopsticks, and his expression… well, he looked sad. Sokka hadn’t even expected him to understand, let alone care. Maybe it should make him feel better. He’d wanted Zuko to feel guilty—

“Did you want to look for your father?” Iroh asked. Sokka startled, slightly, and tore his eyes away from Zuko. “You said he is fighting the Fire Nation.”

Sokka blinked. Did he—?

He hadn’t even thought about it, but… but maybe it wouldn’t be impossible to track down the Water Tribe fleet. He’d found Bato, once, so maybe he could find his dad, too. By now they would have moved on from the rendezvous with Bato, but someone must know where the Southern Water Tribe fleet was. The fleet would be easier to track than a single flighty kid, no matter how hard the Earth Kingdom generals they were working with tried to help cover their tracks.

“I want to,” Sokka said. He desperately wanted to see his dad again, to join the other men. They couldn’t say he wasn’t old enough, now, not when he had been fighting the Fire Nation for months, but... “But I have to find my sister.”

Dad didn’t need him. Maybe Katara didn’t need him anymore, either, but he’d made a promise to his dad when he’d left, to take care of Katara and to take care of the village. He was going to keep one of those promises, at least.

“What’s your sister’s name?” Song’s mother asked. “I volunteer at one of the shelters in town. If she passed through here, maybe we’ve met.”

“Katara,” Sokka said, just daring Zuko to give him another lecture on sharing details. He wasn’t even looking at Sokka, just staring resolutely at his bowl as he picked around it with his chopsticks. “And she’d be traveling with a kid. Aang. He’s the—he’d have an arrow, right here.” He pointed to his forehead.

“An arrow?” she asked, looking puzzled, and a little amused. “No, I haven’t seen anyone like that. I’m sorry.”

“It’s all right,” Sokka said. He hadn’t really expected them to. They were way too close to the Fire Nation occupied territories, and Aang and Katara would have flown right over them, if they were smart.

(Hopefully they were being smart. Sokka wasn’t there to be the voice of reason, to help them navigate, or make a plan...)

“There have been so many refugees passing through lately, I’m sure she was with them,” Song said.

She sounded almost consoling, and Sokka hadn’t—he hadn’t been thinking about all the things that could go wrong, the reasons she might need to console him, and he wasn’t going to think about them now.

“Most of the refugees that pass through are on their way to Ba Sing Se,” Song’s mother added. “We are all trying to escape the Fire Nation, in one way or another.”

“Yeah,” Sokka said. “I guess. I just...”

“You miss them,” Song said, when Sokka couldn’t continue. He nodded. “I’m sure your family misses you, too. And your father and your sister will be so happy when you see them again—”

She was interrupted by the scrape of a chair across the wooden floor, too loud in the quiet.

“Thank you for the meal,” Zuko said. He was out of his chair, and out the door before anyone could say anything more, half of his food left untouched. Sokka met Iroh’s eye over the table and stubbornly stuffed another dumpling into his mouth. If Zuko wanted to go hungry, that was his problem, but Sokka wasn’t stupid enough to think that they were going to be eating this well while they were traveling.

Song’s mother watched Zuko go, and then glanced at Iroh’s concerned face.

“There’s plenty more in the kitchen. Would you like to take some with you?” Song’s mother asked. “I know it can be… difficult, but that doesn’t mean we want them to go hungry.”

Sokka huffed under his breath, and pointedly stuffed another piece of duck into his mouth. It was delicious and Zuko was just being dramatic, and stupid, and rude—

She rose from her spot at the table, and Iroh stood to follow her back into the kitchen.

“That would be excellent, thank you,” Iroh said. “Your home is as lovely as—”

He closed the door behind him, before Sokka could hear anymore, but even the door couldn’t muffle the flirtatious laugh that followed. Song made a face, smiling a little, and Sokka couldn’t help but smile back at her.

“Should we sit outside with Lee?” Song asked, already rising from the table. Sokka sighed, and hastily finished his bowl, not really wanting to sit alone in the dining room, and wanting even less to be left alone with the muffled conversation between Zuko’s uncle and Song’s mom’s through the doorway.

Song grabbed a plain, wooden box from the center of the table, and then led the way out.

Zuko was brooding on the porch, legs folded under him like he’d been trying to meditate. He looked anything but calm and centered, though, glaring into the yard like it had personally offended his honor.

He tensed a little, when Sokka came to sit beside him.

“Has your uncle always been such a flirt?” Sokka asked. That was definitely not what Zuko had expected him to say, but the surprise only lasted a moment. Sokka nearly laughed when Zuko’s expression collapsed into something much closer to a grimace. Song did laugh, just a little, the sound high and sweet.

She sat down on Zuko’s other side, and pulled the box she’d retrieved from the table into her lap. It was filled with little brown disks, pressed into flower shapes.

“They’re yakgwa,” she said, seeing Zuko’s skeptical face. “Honey pastries. If you don’t want any—”

“I’ll eat his,” Sokka said, leaning over to take two. He put one in his mouth—it was sweet, and a little sticky, and of course it tasted like more ginger. Zuko scowled at him.

“You just ate,” he said. “Do you ever stop eating?”

“Not if I get a choice,” Sokka said, thinking of their three weeks of eating almost nothing, and the weeks before that eating travel rations, and the lean years after the men left… He shook his head, dispelling the thought. “Do they not eat sweets in th—where you’re from?”

Zuko glared at him.

“Uncle certainly does,” Zuko said, in a way that made Sokka think that maybe the rest of them didn’t. That wasn’t exactly surprising. Azula seemed like the kind of person who didn’t indulge in anything, and Sokka couldn’t imagine the Fire Lord doing anything but brooding evilly over a pit of fire—but still, that was just sad. Sokka leaned over to take another, and dropped it in Zuko’s hand before he could complain.

“Do you know where you’ll go next?” Song asked.

“No,” Zuko said quickly, before Sokka had a chance to reply. He shot Sokka a warning look, probably worried he would say something that his sister could use to find them.

Song nodded, and if she was offended by Zuko’s brusque answer, she didn’t show it.

“I understand. It’s hard to decide where to go, especially when you’re leaving something behind,” she said. “For the longest time, I was worried that if my father came back, he wouldn’t know where to find us.” She sighed, a little self-deprecating, and undeniably sad. “That was before I realized he—well, I was young. I didn’t really understand, yet.”

“It’s only been a few weeks since I saw my sister, and it’s been years since I saw my dad, and I do miss him, but…” Sokka broke the cookie in his hands in half, and then quarters, eating none of it. “Katara and I have been together our whole lives. I’m not used to not having her around to talk to.”

“You sound like you were close,” Song said.

“Yeah,” Sokka said. “She’s super annoying. And she never listens to me, but. We got separated, and I’m worried I won’t be able to find her again.” He was worried they would find her again, too, although he couldn’t say that without Song wondering why. “Or—I’m worried the Fire Nation will find her, first.”

Zuko didn’t react to that, except to glance over at Sokka, the faintest frown on his lips. Sokka had meant it generally, but Zuko looked worried in a way he didn’t usually, and… he hadn’t been thinking about Azula, hadn’t considered that she might not come to capture her brother, like she’d been sent to do, but might pick up where Zuko had left off with the Avatar, instead.

“They won’t,” Zuko said. The promise wasn’t as reassuring as he probably thought it was.

Zuko’s whole thing with the Fire Nation was—so weird. Sokka just didn’t get why he acted the way that he did, especially if he’d been banished from the Fire Nation three years ago.

Song cleared her throat, somewhat awkwardly. Sokka abruptly realized that he’d been staring, and Zuko, too stubborn to back down, had been glaring back at him like a challenge.

“The Fire Nation has hurt you both,” Song said.

Sokka scowled. Of course, just looking at Zuko, wearing second-hand Earth Kingdom work clothes, she’d never guess he was a prince. She’d certainly never guess that, if anything, Zuko was the one who’d done the hurting.

Sokka could understand why she’d assumed, though.

When he glanced over at Zuko, he was wearing a matching frown, which just made him more annoyed.

“Hah, well,” Sokka said bitterly. “I don’t know if it’s the same.”

It wasn’t the same. They had nothing in common.

(He looked at Zuko’s face. Without really thinking about it, Sokka’s hand drifted down to his side, hovering over the phantom shape of where the soldier’s hand had laid—)

“It’s not the same,” Zuko snapped.

Song’s face softened with sympathy.

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of,” she said.

If anything, the gentleness in her tone made Zuko’s scowl deepen. She frowned at his reaction, knowing and a little sad.

Song bent to roll up her pant leg, and Zuko went very still. Her leg was covered in mottled burn scars, twisting up her calf like tongues of flame. Sokka pictured Zuko’s sister, setting the basket alight with her heel, and the fire lashing up her calf as though she couldn’t feel its heat. Flames like that... a burn that size…

The back of Sokka’s neck prickled with sweat. She met his gaze and saw straight through him.

“I was, too,” Song said simply, calmly, “A lot of people have been, even if you can’t always see the injuries.”

Song leaned over and touched his hand lightly, and Sokka realized his fingers were clenched tightly in the fabric of his new tunic, curled white-knuckled over his bandaged side. He huffed and forced himself to relax, one finger at a time.

“You should be fine in a couple of weeks,” she said, nodding slightly toward Sokka’s bandaged side. She tugged her pant leg back down, perfunctory. She glanced at Zuko then, and considered him for a long moment.

“Mine healed a long time ago,” she added, without a hint of judgement in her gaze, even though he’d been nothing but rude and snappish all evening, “but I think we both know the skin heals fastest.”

For a moment Zuko just stared at her, tensing, poised shivering on the edge of understanding. It clicked. He flushed and shoved himself to his feet.

“I healed fine!” Zuko shouted, loud enough that the soft murmur of voices from inside paused.

He didn’t even bother with the stairs, just hopped off the porch and tromped directly through the flowerbeds framing the house. He stalked away, shoulders impossibly tense, like he was bracing himself for them to come after him.

“Don’t worry about him,” Sokka said, watching Zuko’s retreating back. “He’s just. Like that.”

“He’s angry,” Song said. “I understand the feeling.”

Sokka laughed. “Really? You don’t seem like the temper tantrum type,” he said.

She smiled at him, laughing a little herself, but her eyes were lingering on the dark grounds where Zuko had disappeared. Maybe she was considering going after him. Maybe she liked him, and Sokka wasn’t sure where the flush of indignation that rose in his chest came from, whether it was jealousy that a pretty girl like her would look at that jerk twice, or simply protectiveness, because she didn’t even know him.

Certainly, she didn’t know him like Sokka did—

“There you are,” Song’s mother said. Sokka startled a little at the unexpected sound, and then winced when he turned slightly too quickly, to look back at her. She smiled apologetically.

“Your uncle is waiting for you out front,” she said. “He says you need to get going, soon.”

“Sure, okay,” Sokka said, not really wanting to explain that Mushi wasn’t his uncle. Her smile reminded him so much of Gran Gran that he couldn’t help smiling back.

“Let me help you clean up,” Song said to her mother. She paused to nod to Sokka, and added, “It was nice meeting you. I hope you can find your sister.”

“Thanks,” Sokka said. “It was nice meeting you, too.”

Sokka stood for a moment on the porch, staring off in the direction Zuko had gone. He considered just shouting for him, and letting him find them when he was done being dramatic, but… Sokka thought about the look on his face, when he’d seen Song’s burn, or Sokka’s burn for that matter, and he thought, Zuko had been acting weird since he’d cut his hair. He’d told his uncle he was fine, but...

Ugh. Sokka stuck his hands into the worn pockets of his borrowed clothes, and jumped off the porch into the wet grass. He didn’t know why he cared. He probably shouldn’t care.

But maybe he’d just… check on him.

Sokka stomped through the grass in his new boots, scattering fireflies and ladycrickets as he went.

He found Zuko sitting on the ground, facing the forest with his back to the house. Out here, the thin light from the barn lanterns just barely reached them. Zuko’s expression was cast in shadows, and it was hard to see where his attention lay in the darkness. He seemed to be staring out into the dark forest, lost in thought as his gaze wandered through the densely packed trees.

Zuko didn’t notice him at first, arms wrapped around his right knee, the other leg outstretched. Sokka paused and just watched him for a moment. He didn’t want to startle him—one burn was plenty, thanks.

Sokka scuffed the ground with his new boots, a little louder than he normally would have. Zuko tensed, and then tilted his head slightly to the right, the only indication that he’d heard him coming. Sokka eased down onto the grass next to him, hand braced against his side. Zuko huffed and turned away while Sokka settled, cross-legged.

“Your uncle says it’s time to go,” Sokka said.

“Fine,” Zuko said. “I’ll… in a minute.”

He was clearly not happy to be followed, which was fine, because Sokka didn’t particularly want to talk to him, either. But his curiosity was, apparently, burning more than his self-preservation was.

With his face tipped away, Sokka couldn’t see the scar, only the soft relief of his cheek, the stubble from his hair and the stupid little patch on the back of his head. When he’d been chasing them across the world, he’d looked all kinds of things—scary, mostly, not that Sokka would admit it, and jerk-ish, which was an observation he’d be happy to share.

Like this he just looked young, which was… weird. And uncomfortable. Sokka rubbed his palm against his knee. He tilted his head, listening to the distant sound of ladycrickets chirping in the grass, letting the stillness of the night air settle over him. He could almost ignore the dull ache in his side, sitting still like this. It could almost be peaceful.

“Are you ever going to let me fix your hair?” Sokka asked after a long moment.

That probably wasn’t the best place to start, as far as extending fig-olive branches went, but Sokka had never been particularly good at reigning his thoughts in once they leapt into his mind. Zuko looked startled, like that was the last thing he’d expected him to say. His eyes narrowed.

“It’s not that bad,” Zuko said.

“That’s… that’s a bold statement, from someone who doesn’t have to look at it—”

“Fine,” Zuko snapped. “Fine, just do it.”

Sokka leaned forward a little, surprised. “Really?”

“Or don’t,” Zuko said. “You’re so… I don’t care. Do what you want.”

Sokka scooted a little closer in the grass. He was probably getting his not-so-new pants dirty, but Sokka doubted they were going to stay nice and grass stain free for long, anyway, so it wasn’t really worth worrying about. Sokka tapped his index finger against Zuko’s pocket, silently asking permission.

Zuko grudgingly pulled out his knife. He let go reluctantly when Sokka reached out to take it, with a pinched expression on his face, like he was second guessing himself.

“I’ll try not to cut your ear off,” Sokka said lightly, just to make Zuko scowl at him again. He chuckled, a bit to himself, and set the sheath aside in the grass. The knife was sharp, and well maintained despite the weeks at sea. Not as good as Sokka’s knife, of course, even with Zuko hell-bent on ruining the blade… but still, not bad.

The blade had an inscription. Sokka held it up briefly to the light to read it.

“Never give up without a fight,” Sokka read aloud.

“Uncle gave it to me,” Zuko said. He looked almost immediately self-conscious for volunteering that, an expression that easily slid back into his usual sour scowl. Sokka turned the blade over, then snorted.

“The other side’s a little less inspiring,” Sokka said.

“Would you just hurry up?” Zuko said.

“Fine, fine,” Sokka said.

He pressed the pads of his fingers against the side of Zuko’s head, gently tilting him toward the light. The stubble on Zuko’s sides was already starting to grow, neglected in the excitement of the last couple days. He’d just trim the back to match, so that he could start growing it in. Bald wasn’t a great look, in Sokka’s opinion. He’d rarely met anyone who wore bald well, except for the sorts of old men who looked like they’d sprung fully formed with beards and bald heads, or Aang, who wore it so proudly that he couldn’t help but think it suited him.

Zuko, though… the ponytail was a weird choice, honestly. He had nice hair, not that Sokka was particularly paying attention to that. The way he’d cut it off made Sokka think there was a reason for the style though, like it mattered.

The blade rasped against the short hairs, trimmed down in a few short strokes. Sokka wanted to ask about it, but Zuko already seemed annoyed, and weirdly tense, holding himself so stiff that he might as well have been carved from jade. Sokka had other questions on the tip of his tongue, and he was going to choose his battles.

Besides, it seemed pretty clear that they’d meant to cut ties with their old lives, to get a fresh start, and in the end it wasn’t the haircut that mattered, it was the why. Were Zuko and his uncle just… refugees now? Starting fresh? Or was there still a risk that they would go back to the way they’d been before?

Sokka paused, then wiped the blade clean on Zuko’s pant leg. Zuko scowled and snatched it back from him, so roughly that Sokka had to either let go of the knife or get cut.

“Why was your sister here to arrest you?” Sokka asked, while Zuko returned the knife to its sheath.

Zuko huffed. He drew his other leg up to his chest, so that he was hugging his knees. “Shouldn’t you know? You were the one who figured it out,” he said.

“I mean…” Sokka trailed off. “I mean, why was she even able to arrest you?”

“You’ve met her. I don’t think there’s anything she can’t do,” Zuko said.

“Zuko. You’re a prince,” Sokka said, plainly, “Why is the prince of the Fire Nation getting arrested by his own sister?”

Zuko turned to look at him. His eyes narrowed slightly. He knew what Sokka meant, but he still didn’t say anything.

“She said you were banished,” Sokka said. “She said three years, you’ve been looking for Aang, but we only found him a few months ago.”

A muscle in Zuko’s jaw ticked. “So what?” he said.

“So,” Sokka said, shrugging. “You must have done something. What was it?”

Something bad enough to be banished from the Fire Nation, apparently. The Fire Lord wanted the Avatar, but he couldn’t have wanted him that badly, not when Aang hadn’t been seen for a hundred years.

Zuko’s expression was so carefully blank that it was impossible to tell what he was thinking. His mouth parted, just slightly, and Sokka could practically see him balancing on the precipice of something, considering whether to jump, considering whether he’d land safely at the bottom or be bashed against the rocks. He sighed.

“I spoke out of turn,” Zuko said.

Sokka blinked.

“That’s it?” Sokka asked.

Three years, for that. Zuko would have been, what, younger than Katara? He’d thought Zuko had done something horrible to get his dad to banish him...

...but maybe he was thinking about things backwards. He already knew the Fire Lord was the horrible one. Zuko was a jerk, but he wasn’t—well, he wasn’t as bad as the Fire Lord, anyway, at least not from what Sokka had seen.

Zuko’s mouth opened, closed. He hesitated, grit his teeth.

“It’s none of your business, anyway,” Zuko said.

“It kinda feels like my business,” Sokka said.

“Well, it’s not,” Zuko said. “And it doesn’t matter anymore. I—” He shook his head, then shoved himself roughly to his feet. “Just leave me alone.”

“We’re leaving,” Sokka called after him.

“I heard you the first time,” Zuko said. “Just go. I’ll catch up.”

Sokka was much slower to rise, and by the time he’d found his feet, Zuko had stalked off in the direction of the barn. Sokka watched him go, frowning.

“Did you find Lee?” Iroh asked. Sokka rolled his eyes.

“Lee is off moping behind the barn,” Sokka said. “I told him we were going.”

Iroh hummed. “Perhaps we should…”

“What do I care? Let him mope,” Sokka said. “He said he’d catch up.”

Iroh squinted out into the darkness, toward the barn, watching even as Sokka began stalking up the road. After a moment he heaved a sigh. Iroh nodded, partly to himself, satisfied with whatever he’d seen.

Sokka was still full from dinner, and he was tired. They’d been doing a lot of walking lately, and they had a long way to go, so it only made sense to conserve energy. Plus, Iroh was an old guy, and Sokka wanted to make sure he would keep up. So if he was walking slowly, it was just because he was tired, and considerate.

Sokka kicked a rock, and watched the grass on the side of the road burst into a cloud of fruit gnats. The house was already out of sight by the time the gravel crunched behind them, and Sokka relaxed slightly, despite himself. Iroh slowed, and that was when the second, much heavier, set of footsteps caught up to him.

Sokka stopped dead on the road. Zuko stopped too, and raised his eyebrow. There was a challenge in his expression, behind his deadpan scowl.

“Did you steal her ostrich horse?” Sokka hissed.

“Prince Zuko,” Iroh said. “These people just showed you great kindness.”

“And now they’re showing us a little more kindness,” Zuko said. He tugged on the ostrich horse’s reins. “You can—”

“What is wrong with you?” Sokka said. His voice came out a bit strangled, too loud in the stillness of the evening. “You robbed them? You have to take it back right now!”

Zuko stopped, with his hand hovering caught half-way through a motion. He tugged the reins closer to himself, instead, and scowled.

“It’s a long journey. An ostrich horse will be useful,” Zuko said, as though Sokka had just said something particularly stupid. “If you don’t like it, you can leave.”

He didn’t wait for Sokka’s response, just tugged the ostrich horse along after him and continued up the road, stomping heavily over the loose gravel. Iroh sighed, a vague look of disapproval flickering over his features before he carried on as well.

The look he’d sent Sokka was obviously a challenge, as he urged the stolen ostrich horse forward. He was just daring Sokka to get fed up and go.

Sokka wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

The food Song’s mother had given them had been enough for three days. They’d made it stretch to six, splitting small portions between them, with water from the river, and whatever they would manage to forage and agree, through mutual consensus, probably wouldn’t kill them. That had been days ago, and now Sokka was starving, with nothing but the scant food they managed to gather as they walked.

Even the hunger wasn’t enough to distract him completely, though. He was tense. They’d been walking for days, and all Sokka could focus on was wondering when the other shoe would drop, because Iroh had suggested in the clinic that they shouldn’t search for Aang after all—that they had bigger problems with Azula chasing them, that might not be resolved simply by finding Aang—and they hadn’t talked about it since.

So, were they still hunting Aang? Did Sokka want them to be? Maybe it would be better if Zuko really did give up, and Sokka could just travel with them for as long as he needed to, before he got enough of a lead to break off on his own—

Zuko had seemed… off, since they’d left Song’s house. At first Sokka had thought it was just the burn, or maybe their conversation afterwards, or maybe he was even feeling guilty, for once, for what the Fire Nation had done.

Whatever the case, he was being weirdly quiet. He didn’t even have any opinions, when they hit a fork in the road, and Sokka and Iroh had been trying to decide which direction they wanted to take. Zuko, the guy who hadn’t wanted to sail twenty feet to port when Sokka told him to just because it was his raft to command, hadn’t had an opinion.

(Maybe Sokka should just enjoy the peace, since Zuko was usually so loud and so annoying, but…)

Sokka wasn’t worried, necessarily, he was just an observant guy, and if something was wrong… he just wanted to be sure it wasn’t going to get in the way of finding Aang and Katara.

They’d been walking for half the day, mostly in silence, by the time the road finally peaked over a slow rise, and they spotted the next town. From here, Sokka could see that the town was much smaller than the last one, with only a few small houses lined up on either side of the road. He grinned at Iroh, anyway.

“Thank the spirits,” Sokka said. “I am so sick of sleeping in the woods.”

“We’re not stopping,” Zuko said firmly. “We’re just getting supplies.”

“Maybe we can find somewhere to stay,” Sokka said, stubbornly ignoring him.

Zuko gestured broadly at the dirt in front of them. Sokka rolled his eyes.

“I mean somewhere comfortable,” Sokka said. He had a little money, and he was sure that Iroh did too. There definitely wasn’t enough to stay at an inn, and anyway, that seemed like a waste when they ought to be saving their money to buy food. But maybe if they walked closer to town, the trees might thin out enough for them to make a proper camp. “I’m sure Beaky is tired of sleeping rough, after you stole him from his nice, warm stable—”

“We can’t afford a stable. And it’s a girl ostrich horse, not… wait,” Zuko stalled. “What did you call it?”

“Beaky,” Sokka said. “That’s her name.”

“We’re not calling it Beaky,” Zuko said flatly.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Did you have another name in mind?” Sokka asked. “What were you calling her?”

“The ostrich horse,” Zuko said, jerking her reins with finality as he started up the road.

“Hm. Not very catchy,” Sokka said, trailing behind him.

Zuko tied Beaky to the post outside the shop, while Sokka supervised, and Iroh went ahead into the store.

The store was tiny, with precariously stacked shelves crammed so tightly into the space that Sokka had to turn sideways to squeeze past them. They were here for supplies, as Zuko had so often reminded them, but Sokka immediately went for the back wall, which looked much more interesting than the groceries set up at the front of the store.

There was a man sitting behind the counter, but he didn’t greet them when they entered. He just kind of… squinted at them, like he wasn’t even sure he wanted them there, which couldn’t have been very good for business.

“Good morning!” Iroh said cheerily, like he hadn’t even noticed the way the man was looking at them. Zuko had certainly noticed, glaring back even harder when the man ignored Iroh’s greeting.

Sokka nudged him with an elbow, which got Zuko glaring at Sokka instead. That was fine, Sokka was used to it by now. He turned back to the shelves, looking for anything interesting. Not that he had any money to spare, but there wasn’t any harm in looking, and maybe they’d find something useful.

The back shelf was crammed with books that looked like they’d been lifted out of someone’s personal library. Zuko was watching Sokka browse over his shoulder, acting annoyed and pretending he wasn’t interested.

There was a stack of leaflets that looked like scripts from plays, dog-eared and annotated like they’d been taken directly from a theatre. And maybe they had—there was a box of costumes beneath it, impractical clothes, stage makeup, prop swords and ugly masks...

Zuko hesitated over the box, finger resting on the spine of one of the scripts, so Sokka pulled it down.

“Have you read this one?” Sokka asked. It looked like a dumb romance, so Sokka doubted he had, but he waved it at Zuko anyway. Predictably, he scoffed and rolled his eyes, stomping over to the next shelf to unroll and re-roll every map the man seemed to own. Sokka laughed, and flipped the book open, planning to read a little out loud, just to be really annoying.

There was an annotation on the inside page. For Su-Min. When you read this, think of me.

Sokka snapped the cover shut, suddenly feeling like he was intruding. He glanced around the shop, filled with what had seemed like random stock, and imagined families fleeing the coast ahead of the Fire Nation, weighed down with books and family heirlooms they’d been optimistic enough to bring along.

And when their loads got too heavy to carry, and their wallets too light to feed themselves, he could easily imagine trading books and jewelry for food and clean water. Sentiment for survival.

Beside him, Zuko made a frustrated noise and snatched his hand back like the maps had burned him.

“This is ridiculous,” he said. “Why is everything so expensive?”

The man behind the counter scowled at him.

“If you don’t like the prices, find another store,” he said.

“There are no other—” Zuko said.

“Now, Nephew,” Iroh cut in. He had been hovering over the shelf where all the store’s food was stocked, pondering boxes of tea and doing nothing with the list they’d agreed on buying on the way in. “The man has to feed his family.”

He stepped up to the counter, but the man only looked more annoyed, when he saw how light the wallet Iroh pulled out was.

“We’d like to buy a few supplies, some feed for our ostrich horse…”

Sokka turned his back on the counter and jabbed a finger in Zuko’s direction. Zuko swatted at his hand like he was a particularly annoying fruit gnat.

“If you get us kicked out before your uncle can get supplies, I’m never forgiving you,” Sokka whispered. “I’m starving.”

“You just ate,” Zuko said grumpily, even though a few foraged nuts and berries did not count as a real meal.

He rolled his eyes, and turned back to the shelves. After a second of poking through the clutter, something familiar caught his eye. Sokka picked up the tile, the same white lotus design that Iroh had showed him on the raft. He held it up for Iroh to see.

“Hey, look! They have a pai sho set,” Sokka said.

“Unless you have the gold for it, put it back,” the teller barked. Sokka almost fumbled the tile.

“I was just looking,” he said.

“Look with your eyes, kid, not with your hands,” he said.

Sokka stared at him, a little startled by the rudeness in his tone. He put the tile back in its place on the board—it wasn’t even in the right spot, the man had just arranged the tiles at random to look good for the display. The owner didn’t thank him, or even acknowledge it. He just gave Sokka one last hairy eyeball and turned back to picking over Iroh’s list. Sokka stuffed his hands back in his pockets.

“Let’s wait outside,” Sokka said, because Zuko looked about three seconds from throwing himself over the counter, or maybe just burning the shop down. Sokka grabbed his arm and dragged him to the door.

Beaky was right where they’d left her, and Sokka went to stand beside her, out of view of the shop’s open doorway. Zuko jerked his arm out of Sokka’s grip as soon as they were outside, crossing them over his chest instead.

It was weird. He didn’t expect everyone to be his best friend, but he was still surprised by the venom in the shop keeper’s tone. They’d never had much money before, either, but that hadn’t mattered when—

Well, it was different, when he wasn’t travelling with the Avatar. Everyone was nice to Aang, or at least, most people were, and the ones that weren’t were people like the Fire Nation, or those pirates…

Zuko was scowling back at the door, so Sokka gestured for him to come over to where Beaky was pecking at the dusty ground, before Zuko got it in his head to go back inside and finish things. Of course Zuko would get mad over something like that. Everything made Zuko mad, and he was probably used to the royal treatment, being waited on hand and foot, being… well, being a prince.

“Dude, you’re not a prince anymore, right? You can’t just scream at people when they don’t do what you want,” Sokka said.

“I wasn’t,” Zuko said.

“You kind of were,” Sokka said. “So what if we can’t afford the map? We’ll follow the road.”

Zuko scoffed, staring resolutely at the ground.

“It’s not about the map,” he said quietly, but he didn’t say anything else. He only glanced up when Iroh finally joined them, and even then it was just to take the heavier bag from his uncle’s hands. He turned it over, and even without looking at the label Sokka could tell that it was full of ostrich horse feed, if only from the way Beaky perked up at the sound of grains shifting inside.

The food would be its own problem, especially since the other bag that Iroh had brought out with him was a lot less full than Sokka had been hoping for. At least Beaky was happy, pecking at the outside of the bag of sun oats like she knew it was for her.

“I don’t suppose you got a good look at the route before you tried to bite the owner’s head off?” Sokka asked.

Zuko gave him a flat look, and Sokka fanned his fingers out placatingly.

“Fine, fine, just asking. I mean, all roads lead to Ba Sing Se, right?” he said. “No big deal. I don’t know what you’re getting so worked up over.”

“He shouldn’t talk to—to Uncle like that,” Zuko said.

“Yeah, well,” Sokka said. He gestured at all of the nothing around them. “What’s stopping him? You’re not royalty. I’m not traveling with the Avatar. We’re just two refugees, traveling with their uncle—”

“He’s not your uncle,” Zuko said.

Sokka raised an eyebrow and turned to look at Iroh.

“Can I call you Uncle?” he asked.

“Of course!” Iroh said.

“Just two refugees and their uncle,” Sokka repeated.

“He’s not,” Zuko said, teeth clenched. For a second Sokka thought he might have actually seen steam, before Zuko made a frustrated noise and turned to jerkily untie Beaky from the shop’s post.

Sokka glanced around quickly, but there wasn’t even anyone outside to see them, so he just rolled his eyes at Zuko instead. The town wasn’t large, and it wasn’t long before they were leaving it behind. Sokka didn’t miss how few people could be seen, or how warily those few people out on urgent errands watched them pass. He thought of the shop, packed full of the remnants of hundreds of peoples lives, uprooted and scattered, and wondered how far inland they would have to go, before they left the scars of the Fire Nation behind them.

Zuko was quiet and moody and annoying for the rest of the day. He didn’t even react to Sokka’s jokes, just scowling at his feet as he walked until Sokka gave up on him and turned to Iroh for better conversation.

“Maybe if the next town is bigger, we can find some work and make a little money,” Sokka said. Sure, the last time he’d tried that he’d nearly drowned on a fishing trawler in the middle of a storm, but what were the odds of something like that happening twice?

“I’m gonna buy some real meat,” Sokka said. Fish was fine and good, but Sokka missed seal jerky. Hippocow steak. Fried picken—

“The Earth Kingdom has an excellent variety of teas,” Iroh said. “I am looking forward to trying them.” He patted the little kettle that had followed them from the Northern Water Tribe, where it was wrapped up in one of Beaky’s packs.

“Oh, and maybe we can find another pai sho set,” Sokka said. “A cheaper one, and you can teach me to play for real.”

Iroh smiled at him. “I would like that.”

“We should be avoiding towns altogether,” Zuko said. “The more people that see us, the easier it will be for Azula to track us down.”

“Seriously?” Sokka said. “I know she’s scary intense, but aren’t you being a little paranoid?”

“How do you think we kept finding you? Luck?” Zuko asked. He sounded almost like he was laughing at himself for the suggestion.

“Yeah well, recognizing the Avatar is one thing, but no one is going to blink at three refugees headed to Ba Sing Se,” Sokka said.

“We’re recognizable,” Zuko said tensely, gesturing pointedly at his face.

“Not that recognizable. There are a lot of people with burns in the Earth Kingdom. We can’t avoid every town along the way on the off chance your sister is hunting down every lead.”

“You’re both right,” Iroh said diplomatically. “We will avoid towns where we can, and only stop when necessary.”

“Fine,” Zuko said, although by the stubborn look on his face Sokka thought he was far from letting it go. Sokka rolled his eyes. They were going to have to stop eventually, because sooner than later they would run out of food, and then money.

Also, Zuko had actually made a good point, even if he was too much of a jerk to realize it. Aang was recognizable, and asking around whenever they passed through a new town might bring them a new lead on where to find Aang and Katara.

If not… well, they would get to Ba Sing Se eventually. Maybe the Earth King would be able to help him find Aang. Not that Sokka knew how to get an audience with the Earth King. Sokka was pretty sure that destroying a bunch of city property, mail, and a cabbage cart wasn’t a reliable enough method to try twice, but he would figure it out when they got there.

Sokka wasn’t sure how long they’d been walking—long enough for the sun to move so that it was shining directly into Sokka’s eyes as they walked, casting long shadows into the grass—before Iroh slowed enough on the road ahead of him that Sokka nearly bumped into his back. He gestured into the trees, but it took Sokka a moment to pick out the smudge of black in the mountainside, and longer to realize that he was looking at a cave. It was just off the road, not that well protected from being spotted by other passerbys, but it looked private, at least, and they wouldn’t have to sleep completely outside—

Zuko handed Beaky’s reins to his uncle.

“Hey,” Sokka said. He hesitated on the edge of the trail, when he realized that Zuko wasn’t following. “Where are you going?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Zuko said stiffly.

“Nephew, it’s going to be dark soon. Are you sure it’s wise to split up?” Iroh called after him. Zuko didn’t answer right away, but after a few more feet he hesitated, and turned back to look at his uncle again.

“I’ll be back soon,” he promised.

“Do you want me to come with you?” Sokka called.

“Absolutely not!” Zuko yelled back.

Sokka figured that Iroh was more qualified to start the fire than he was, and they were out of the way enough that the light probably wouldn’t be a risk. He set about unpacking their camp, instead, or at least—what Zuko had left for them. Zuko had taken his own bag with him, so Sokka just laid out his turtle seal tarp and his and Iroh’s bedrolls toward the back of the cave where they would hopefully stay dry, even if the gathering clouds decided to make good on their promise and give them a little rain.

He wasn’t waiting up for Zuko, necessarily. He was just tired from walking. Resting a little before he went out to search for something more to eat alongside the plain rice that Iroh had bought seemed like a good idea. It would be harder in the dark, but the moon was bright and the fishing would probably be better later in the evening, anyway, so really he was just being practical.

He heard the snapping of branches, first, as someone picked their way through the underbrush, and Sokka glanced up at the sound. Iroh had gotten the fire going hours ago, and the camp was… pleasant, actually, with the warmth from the fire, and the smell of the admittedly simple tea that Iroh had bought for them steeping inside his iron kettle, beside the fire.

Zuko didn’t look at either of them, and he dropped his bag near the mouth of the cave.

Except—he’d brought back more than just his own bag, a second one hooked around his wrist, which he carried over with him to the fire. Sokka’s curiosity piqued, despite himself, as he realized that he didn’t recognize it.

“What is all this?” Sokka asked.

“Supplies,” Zuko said. The bag rattled when he set it on the ground, metal clinking on metal. Sokka stared at it, impossibly curious what was inside, and where he’d gotten it. Zuko dug around in the bag for a moment, and pulled out a teapot with a long spout.

“Here, Uncle,” he said, setting it down beside the fire carefully. Zuko pulled out a little brown box next, and then hesitated, worrying his thumb over the corner.

“Where did you get—?” Sokka started to ask, but before he could even finish the question, Zuko had pushed the box into his hands.

“Here,” he said. Snapped, really, like he was annoyed with something, or—embarrassed, maybe, which only made Sokka more curious.

Curious and… and suspicious, because Zuko had disappeared for a few hours and then suddenly came back with all the supplies they hadn’t been able to afford, and then some, so...

Sokka didn’t recognize it at first, with the polished wooden lid closed. There was an interesting, geometric engraving on the outside of the box that Sokka ran his thumb over for a moment, trying to puzzle out what they were supposed to represent. The box rattled a little, when Sokka pried open the lid.

He stared at the neat rows of tiles, the folded board, and snapped the lid shut. Lotus flowers. That was the design on the box, and Sokka hadn’t noticed them because when he’d first seen it, the pai sho set had been laid out for display.

“Did you steal this?” Sokka asked. Zuko had been pointedly not-watching Sokka's reaction, but he glanced away from the fire to look at him now.

“You said you wanted it,” Zuko said. He sounded a little unsure, or maybe he was just irritated that Sokka was interrupting his cooking.

“I never—I didn’t mean steal it!” Sokka said. Zuko glared at him, and then turned back to the fire, jaw set so tightly that Sokka’s teeth ached in sympathy.

“Just throw it out then! I don’t care,” Zuko said. “I don’t even like that stupid game.”

“Did you steal the rest of this too? The food?” Sokka asked. Zuko didn’t answer, and Sokka shoved himself to his feet so quickly that pain lanced down his side, radiating out from his burned skin. Sokka tightened his jaw against the pain, his next words pressed through clenched teeth. “I can’t believe you!”

“Why do you even care?” Zuko asked. “They have plenty, and we have nothing.”

“You don’t know what they have,” Sokka said. “You can’t just steal from whoever you want, just because you think you deserve it more!”

“You don’t tell me what to do,” Zuko snapped.

“You and your uncle are wanted,” Sokka said. “Do you even care that you might get us in trouble? Or do you just do whatever you want?”

“I’m not going to get caught,” he said. “I was just trying to—” He made a frustrated noise. “We needed supplies!”

“We didn’t need all of this,” Sokka shot back, stabbing a finger at the rest of the pile. Zuko huffed, and a few sparks flew into the space between them.

“Just get your own food, then!” Zuko said.

Sokka scoffed and dropped the gameboard on the dusty cave floor at Zuko’s feet. Zuko looked startled for a second, like he hadn’t expected Sokka to actually do it, but the expression cleared just as quickly as it appeared. Zuko scowled at the bag, pointedly not looking at Sokka as he sorted through the things he’d stolen. All of the things he’d risked getting caught for—risked getting all of them caught for.

“How do you like your new teapot?” Zuko asked his uncle, pointedly ignoring Sokka as he snatched his knife and stomped past him, out the mouth of the cave.

“To be honest with you—” Iroh started to reply, but Sokka didn’t hang around to hear the rest.

The road followed the river. Sokka had made the trip when he was fetching water for Iroh’s tea, and the short walk would be good. A chance to burn off some frustration, at least, snapping branches that blocked his path and stripping leaves from clawing bushes, just for something to do with his hands.

He didn’t have his boomerang, so he doubted he’d be able to catch himself any real meat, and definitely not with only a thin knife to hunt with. He picked around the river bank for a suitable branch to sharpen into a point. After spending almost three weeks on the ocean, Sokka was pretty sure he could spear the little blue gilled perch lurking along the river bank in his sleep. He caught four little ones, about the width of his palm. He found a tree with nuts that looked edible, and paused for a few minutes to pick the best looking ones from the ground.

Then he paced around the woods for a few minutes, to burn off his frustration, and maybe to delay going back. Sokka didn’t even know why he was surprised. He knew what Zuko was like. Of course he didn’t care about the people in the Earth Kingdom. Why would he? They were just—peasants to him, and not even Fire Nation. What did he care if a family went hungry, or someone else got in trouble for his theft, or someone came after them, because that shopkeeper had seen Sokka looking at the pai sho set, and then Sokka would never find Katara, because he’d be in an Earth Kingdom prison—

Zuko had finished unloading his bag by the time Sokka returned. Sokka huffed when he noticed that he’d set up his own bedroll on top of Sokka’s tarp. Jerk. Zuko glanced at Sokka pointedly, eyes narrowing as he caught sight of the makeshift spear hanging off his shoulder.

Zuko had clearly helped himself to someone’s kitchen. There was a new tea set, spout faintly steaming as the tea steeped. He’d set three bowls out by the fire. Zuko dug into the rice with the flat of his spoon and filled two. He shoved one bowl toward his uncle.

There was meat, too, three chunks skewered and cooking on a new metal pan settled into the glowing coals at the edge of the fire pit. Sokka glared at it—stupid, delicious meat, which Zuko probably stole from someone’s pantry, or mugged a butcher for, or something.

The skewer sizzled tauntingly when Zuko flipped it.

Sokka jabbed the end of his spear down into the ground, a little ways back from the fire. He sat half-turned away from Zuko, like he didn’t care what he was doing, because he didn’t, and set to cleaning his catch. They were small enough that it only took him a few minutes.

Iroh had taken the bowl of rice, but he’d left the skewer Zuko offered him alone. Sokka eyed it, but only for a moment. He turned stubbornly back to his catch.

“Would you like one?” Sokka asked.

“Fresh fish sounds wonderful,” Iroh said, even though they’d pretty much eaten nothing but fresh fish for the last few weeks.

If anything, that made Zuko scowl more. He jabbed his spoon into his rice with a little more force than necessary.

Iroh kept stealing glances at Zuko, his expression fixed somewhere between disapproval and concern, but if Zuko noticed the looks, he didn’t react to them. Sokka didn’t know what they’d talked about while he was gone—didn’t particularly care, either. Zuko was refusing to look at either of them, face tipped down toward the fire so that all Sokka could see was the firelight reflected in his eyes.

Except, it wasn’t the fire Zuko was frowning at. He was glaring at the handful of round, blackened shapes scattered through the coals, paint peeling as the fire slowly consumed them.

Sokka kept his eyes on his food, feeling strangely guilty, and annoyed at himself for feeling that way. They finished their meals in silence. By the time Sokka curled up in his bedroll with his back to the cave, stubbornly closing his eyes as Iroh fed more fuel to the fire, the rest of the pai sho set had already burned to ashes.

The cave was pitch black when Sokka drifted to the surface of sleep. The fire had burned down to nothing but ashy coals. Groggy, Sokka slowly shifted up on his elbow, peering out into the darkness. His ears rang in the silence.

He was used to waking up in the middle of the night. It was just… a habit, really, from traveling with Aang and Katara. He’d wake suddenly to the darkness, restless, stand and pace around the edge of their camp, just to check, and then he’d crawl back into his sleeping bag, or snuggle up next to Appa again and finally be able to sleep. Sokka wasn’t sure what woke him, this time, but he knew from experience that he wasn’t going to fall back asleep now, not until he’d gotten up and walked around their camp to put his mind at ease.

Iroh was fast asleep, snoring faintly. Zuko was bundled on the other side of him, still, buried under his blanket.

Sokka eased his blanket back and stood. It was dark, and the cave floor was littered with Zuko’s stupid trinkets, all the things he’d stolen for no reason other than that he could. He walked slowly, careful not to trip over anything. The quiet was unnerving. It felt wrong, and made Sokka’s skin prickle with anticipation. He crouched next to Zuko. Next to…

Just a lump of bedding, stuffed beneath a spare blanket.

Zuko was gone.

Chapter Text

Sokka whirled toward the cave entrance. Beaky was gone, her rope untied from the little sapling they’d hitched her to. Frustration simmered under his skin. Where was Zuko going? To rob more people, probably. He had to be, if he was sneaking off with Beaky in the middle of the night.

Something had woken Sokka, though. It was probably the sound of Zuko leaving, which meant that he couldn’t have gotten far. Sokka grabbed his bag from next to his bed roll, so that he could dig around for his hair tie as he jogged after him. It wasn’t much brighter outside the cave than inside, sheltered by the tree cover and the incline of the mountain the entrance had been carved into. Sokka had to squint to find the scuff marks on the ground where Beaky’s claws had kicked up dust.

There was a clear path down toward the nearest town, and Sokka almost went to follow it, but… he paused again, reconsidering the marks on the ground before he turned his gaze off into the trees. There were plenty of tracks to choose from, between their walk out here and Zuko’s coming and going. He picked the tracks he thought looked freshest, leading down through the dense brush. It was a five minute walk to the main road from the beaten side path outside the cave, and Sokka jogged the whole way in an attempt to catch up. It was much easier this time to keep his feet in the dark woods, wearing real boots, with his burn well tended to. The exertion made his side pulse, not quite painfully, but hard to ignore.

Eventually he broke out onto the road on the other side. The road they’d agreed to avoid, earlier, because they didn’t want to be too conspicuous before they figured out where they were going.

It was empty now, save for Sokka, and Zuko’s retreating back disappearing into the darkness.

“Zuko!” Sokka called.

Zuko slowed to a stop. He didn’t look at him though, or even turn around. Sokka grumbled under his breath as he jogged up behind him. Beaky turned her head when he approached, but Zuko didn’t. Sokka stomped around to face him.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Sokka asked. “Off to rob more people?”

Zuko just glared at him. He—no, he didn’t glare at Sokka, he was glaring at the road over his shoulder, not quite meeting his eye. There was a wariness in his expression, like he didn’t fully understand why Sokka had bothered to follow him. A little bit of the indignation he’d felt at having caught Zuko in the act bled out of him, uncertainty creeping in. He’d thought Zuko was going back into town, to take more things they didn’t need, just because he could. Sokka stared at him, as all the little cracks in that theory began to show.

The town was the other way. Zuko wasn’t dressed for stealth. He was wearing his layers, the clothes Song had given him, a warm outer robe, a hat, from somewhere, even though it was the middle of the night and the weather was fine. His pack was strapped to Beaky’s saddle, with his bedroll and Sokka’s turtle seal hide tarp bound up with it.

“You’re… not going back to town, are you?” he asked.

Zuko sighed as Sokka looked him over, halfway between annoyed and resigned.

“I’m leaving,” Zuko admitted.

“Why?” Sokka asked.

“Because…” Zuko looked almost caught off guard by the question. “It’s better this way.”

“Your uncle—”

“Will be fine,” Zuko interrupted tersely. “And I’ll find my own way.”

He said it so stubbornly, like he honestly believed that his uncle would be better off without him. Zuko had been so weird lately, because… because he’d probably been planning this for a while, since his uncle had told him that capturing the Avatar was useless, even.

If that worried Sokka, it was only because without a goal or his uncle, Zuko was unpredictable. He couldn’t just let him leave.

“I’m coming with you,” Sokka said, his own resolve hardening into something equally stubborn.

“No, you’re not,” Zuko said.

“Well, I’m not just letting you leave!” Sokka shouted.

He could stay with Iroh. He’d certainly be less prickly company, and he wouldn’t try to run off without him in the middle of the night. But Iroh had seemed convinced that hunting the Avatar wasn’t the answer. For Zuko, that was probably true, and just a few days ago Sokka would have been all for the idea, if only to keep Zuko away from them. But now? He needed to find Aang, and Zuko was going to help him.

That’s why he couldn’t let him go. It had nothing to do with how off he’d seemed ever since they’d left Song’s house. He’d been distant, and lapsed into moods and melancholy and just—seemed tired, but that wasn’t Sokka’s problem, okay, it didn’t matter to him.

He wasn’t worried. It was just practical for Sokka to follow him, because right now Zuko was his best chance of finding his sister again.

Zuko just ground his teeth, annoyed, and flicked Beaky’s reins. She started forward slowly, still watching Sokka out of the corner of her eye.

“Try and stop me,” Zuko said.

“Then... I’ll tell your uncle that you’re leaving,” he said.

“Good. Go tell him,” Zuko said. He gestured dismissively, back toward the trees and the cave. Of course, Zuko would be long gone by the time Sokka got back. Sokka crossed his arms stubbornly. Like he was going to fall for that.

He hurried a few steps after Zuko, instead, although it was a losing battle from the start. The moment Zuko noticed him following, his scowl set even deeper. He urged Beaky to go faster. She sent him a nasty look out of the corner of her eye, like it was Sokka’s fault that Zuko was running from him.

Sokka followed until Zuko was too far ahead to see in the moonlight, until he hit a bend in the road, until he turned to stare up and down the path with no sign of Zuko or Beaky in either direction. He could try to catch up again, but it wouldn’t matter. An ostrich horse would outpace a person easily, even carrying Zuko and his supplies, even without trying. And Zuko was definitely trying.

He could turn back. Maybe he should turn back.

Instead, he turned to the packed dirt road, slightly damp from the early morning dew, and looked for the barest indents of her sharp talons against the soft ground.

Sokka was exhausted and starving, and this was a terrible idea. His feet dragged through the trail that Beaky left behind her. He regretted ever following Zuko, or caring about what that stupid jerk did, or whether or not he got himself into trouble.

Iroh would be awake by now, and probably worried, when he realized that his nephew was missing. He might not even know something was wrong at first, since Sokka was gone too. Sokka was pretty sure he wouldn’t think they’d gone off to kill each other, at least, so he’d probably think they’d gone back into town, but if Sokka didn’t turn back and Zuko didn’t return, eventually…

He’d probably think something bad had happened to him, because that stupid jerk hadn’t even said goodbye. An uncharitable part of his mind—the part that was still half-focused on his empty stomach, and how that was definitely Zuko’s fault—wanted to think that Zuko didn’t even care about his uncle, but even as he thought it, he knew it wasn’t true.

Zuko was an idiot, for sure, if he thought that he was a burden, or that he was doing his uncle a favor by ditching him.

Sokka didn’t know. Maybe Iroh would have a better life without his nephew, but he barely knew the guy and he could already say with confidence that it wouldn’t be the life that Iroh wanted.

Sokka was distracted enough with his thoughts that he nearly missed where the trail ended. If Zuko had tried to cover his tracks, he’d done a terrible job of it, but it still took Sokka a good forty feet in his tired daze to notice that the muddy footprints he’d been following had disappeared.

He backtracked to the point where the ostrich horse tracks left the road, and shifted to follow the trampled grass and broken branches instead. Sokka wasn’t trying to be particularly sneaky, but it turned out there wasn’t any reason to be. The camp was empty when Sokka finally clawed his way through the brush.

He only had a moment to take it in, a fire, still lit, Zuko’s things spread around it, Beaky tied up nearby. He had just a moment, to think that was strange, before something crashed out from the brush beside him.

Sokka told himself that the reason he didn’t flinch was because he wasn’t afraid, and not because he was so exhausted that his reaction time would, truly, have gotten him stabbed, if Zuko hadn’t caught sight of his face, and drawn up short—

Sokka fixed Zuko with an unimpressed look, channeling Gran Gran, or Bato when he’d caught Sokka and Katara getting up to mischief.

Zuko’s hands went slack on his swords when he realized who it was. He gaped at him.

“How did you even—” he shouted. “Stop following me!”

Sokka snorted at the hypocrisy.

He pushed Zuko off of him and turned toward the camp. The nice thing about waking Zuko up, and Zuko being ready to fight anything at a moments notice, was that there was a conveniently vacated bedroll lying on top of Sokka’s tarp, which Zuko had stolen.

“Doesn’t feel great, does it?” he asked. He collapsed onto Zuko’s unoccupied bedroll. Oh, sweet, horizontal bliss.

“What are you doing?” Zuko demanded.

“Sleeping,” Sokka said. He grabbed the corner of the tarp and rolled over, pinning the edge of it and Zuko’s bedroll underneath him. Zuko made an annoyed, flustered noise that Sokka pretended not to hear.

“How did you even find me?” Zuko asked. Sokka felt a tug on his blankets and clutched them tighter.

“Beaky sucks at stealth,” Sokka said, burrowing deeper into the blankets. They were still warm, and Sokka was just going to enjoy it, instead of thinking about it too hard. He yawned and felt his jaw pop. “And so do you. I don’t think you’d know subtlety if it hit you between the eyes.”

Zuko made another angry catigator noise. Sokka held fast, when he yanked indignantly on the blanket again.

And then he stomped off to clatter around the camp, no doubt packing to leave while Sokka slept.

Whatever, Sokka thought, as he settled in to sleep. He didn’t even care. It wasn’t like he couldn’t catch up to him again, later.

Zuko... was still there, when Sokka woke up. He was staring at Sokka, his impassive face betraying absolutely nothing, even as his foot tapped impatiently against the ground where it was pinned under his crossed knee.

Sokka blinked at him, and then slowly pushed himself up onto his elbows. It looked like Zuko had already broken camp. The firepit had been covered over with fresh earth, and most of Zuko’s bags were packed and loaded onto Beaky’s saddle already.

The ostrich horse was glaring at both of them—at least, Sokka thought it looked like a glare, like she was annoyed that Zuko had loaded her up if they weren’t going to get moving. Sokka had been planning on having to try to find Zuko’s trail again, probably this time with Zuko making it difficult for him, trying to cover his tracks.

He had not expected Zuko to wait for him... even if he was probably just waiting for Sokka to vacate his bedroll. Sokka pushed himself to sitting, so that he could at least look Zuko in the eye.

“You should go back,” Zuko said, after a beat of awkward silence. He seemed a little uncertain as he said it, like he couldn’t understand why Sokka was here now, let alone how to make him leave again. Sokka couldn’t tell if he was stubborn or stupid, thinking that Iroh would just be okay with that, if Sokka came back and Zuko didn’t.

“Will you go back?” Sokka asked.

Zuko frowned at him, not quite meeting his eye.

“Then no. I’m staying,” Sokka said, and Zuko was back to bristling.

“I’m not going to—you don’t have to babysit me,” Zuko said. “Whatever you want, you’ll be better off with Uncle. You two can—”

“Zuko, the only thing your uncle is going to do is look for you. That won’t help me,” Sokka said.

Zuko only stared at him. He could practically see the little gears turning, mouth turned down in a slight frown, like he wanted to argue. He honestly thought that Sokka and his uncle would be better off without him, and he was still trying to convince Sokka to leave him.

Fat chance of that, now that Sokka had caught up to him.

“So what’s the plan?” Sokka asked. “Are you still looking for Aang?”

“If I say no, will you stop following me?” Zuko asked.

“No,” Sokka said.

“And if I say yes—”

“Definitely not,” Sokka said.

“I—what do you want?” Zuko shouted, exasperated. Beaky startled at the noise, and Sokka quickly shushed her.

“Do I have to want something?” Sokka asked.

“You’re still here, aren’t you?” he asked. “You must want something.”

It struck Sokka that this was the first time they had really talked, just the two of them, no risk of anyone else overhearing, no threat of being caught, no weird… whatever it was between them on the raft and in the resort, hatred or baggage or whatever. None of it.

“I don’t know,” Sokka admitted. “Your help, I guess.”

Zuko was clearly baffled by his answer, but… it was all Sokka could give. Zuko was his best chance, if he wanted to find Aang and Katara. Even if Zuko really wasn’t still looking for Aang, at least he was going somewhere. That was all Sokka really needed—to keep moving.

Zuko huffed.

He stood. He said nothing as he nudged Sokka aside with his boot, enough to move him off the bedroll so he could fold it and the tarp and pack it into Beaky’s saddle bag.

Then Zuko stepped into the stirrup, and snapped Beaky’s reins.

It was Sokka’s turn to gape, first in disbelief, then in outrage.

“Hey, wait!” Sokka said.

He caught Zuko at the edge of the trees, as Beaky tramped through the already crushed grass back toward the road. The road followed the river, so they were still going inland so long as they kept along this route. Sokka wasn’t sure if Zuko had a destination in mind, or if he’d just picked a direction without thinking things through.

Zuko glared down at him, and then glanced away in a flash. When Sokka settled in to walk beside him, the frown only deepened, as the silence stretched. He could have laughed at how stubborn Zuko was, if it wasn’t so infuriating.

“Any chance I can get a ride?” Sokka asked.

“No,” Zuko said. He snapped the reins again, and sped up a little out of spite.

Sokka groaned and jogged after him. “You’re such a jerk!” he said.

“Get your own,” Zuko said plainly.

“It’s not even your ostrich-horse!” Sokka said.

“It is now,” he said.

Sokka huffed and stopped walking. Zuko didn’t even slow down, so Sokka only lasted a few moments before he was forced to follow them again, if he didn’t want to get left behind. He jogged to catch up, hiking his bag further up his shoulder. Zuko cut him a suspicious glance.

“Do you even know where you’re going?” Sokka asked.

Zuko scoffed and rolled his eyes. He leaned over to dig into the pocket of his bag. He pulled out one of the maps from the shop, high quality paper with a fine leather tie. Zuko waved his stolen map jauntily in the air, eyebrow raised, daring Sokka to complain.

“Where are you going?” Sokka asked.

Zuko stared down at him, but didn’t answer.

“You haven’t decided, or you’re not telling?” Sokka prompted.

Zuko snorted. So. Probably the latter.

Sokka shifted his bag on his shoulder again. He could ask Zuko to let Beaky carry it, but he didn’t trust Zuko not to leave him behind, and then he wouldn’t have anything. He glanced up at Zuko again—not very subtly, but it was fine, because Zuko was glaring resolutely at the road, even though there was nothing but fields of trees and brush all around them, and it really didn’t require that much attention.

An ostrich horse could easily outpace a person. Zuko had made Beaky ride all through the night, so maybe she was just tired. Maybe she’d been tired while Sokka was sleeping, too, and that was why Zuko hadn’t been gone, when he woke up. Or maybe he’d just wanted his bedroll back.

Either way, an ostrich horse could outpace a person… if their rider wanted them to. Sokka snuck another glance at Zuko.

“Are you sure I can’t get a—” Sokka started to say. Zuko snorted.

“No,” he said, and urged Beaky a few steps ahead.

Sokka sighed, but… it wasn’t that hard to catch up.

It was a nice morning, and the pace wasn’t too bad, certainly no worse than when they’d been travelling with Iroh. The quiet, though. Yeesh. Sokka was going to collapse from boredom long before he collapsed from exhaustion.

He cast around for something to talk about—road, trees, sky...

“Nice… clouds,” Sokka said. Zuko didn’t even glance at him, but Sokka could see the little crease that was forming between his eyes. Confused-frown, he thought. Not annoyed. Encouraged by the lack of shouting, Sokka forged ahead.

“Did I ever tell you about the fortune teller that was conning a whole village?”

“I’m sure you’re going to,” Zuko said flatly. Sokka rolled his eyes at him.

“Yeah, she had everyone convinced that she could read the clouds, or tell a person’s future by the day they were born. It was so dumb, like, that’s not even real—”

“It is real,” Zuko said.

“Wha—no it’s not,” Sokka said. He stared at him, half-expecting him to be joking, even though Zuko never joked about anything. But, no, he was dead serious, staring back at Sokka like he was expecting a challenge. Sokka laughed. “You can’t believe in that superstitious nonsense.”

“It’s not…” Zuko mouthed the word, nonsense, with a grimace like it was leaving a bad taste in his mouth. “A… person can be born unlucky. Or lucky. That’s real.”

“It’s self fulfilling. If you believe it, then of course it’ll happen,” Sokka said, pointedly not thinking about his own fortune, 'Your future is full of struggle and anguish. Most of it self-inflicted,' and how apt that felt right about now, trailing along after Zuko. Sokka tucked his hands under his arms. “I can’t believe you actually buy into that stuff. You’re supposed to be cool and mysterious.”

Zuko raised an eyebrow at him. “You think I’m cool and mysterious?”

“I—no,” Sokka said, heat creeping up his neck. That was obviously not what he’d meant! “I don’t, and I never will, because you believe the clouds will tell you what kind of tea to drink—”

“That’s not what I said,” Zuko grumbled. “I said…”

Sokka grinned a little, feeling oddly accomplished at getting Zuko to talk about anything, even if it was something as stupid as fortune telling and destiny. Then Zuko caught the look on Sokka’s face. He cut himself off mid-sentence, and his expression dropped into his usual frown as he went back to glaring resolutely at the road.

Damn.

Sokka trailed along beside Zuko for the rest of the day, but the most he could get out of him was a few hums of acknowledgement. It had already been past midday when they started walking. With the late start and the nice, flat roads, Zuko and Beaky definitely could have kept going into the night.

Instead, almost an hour before sundown, Zuko veered off the side of the road without a word of warning, so abruptly that Sokka nearly stumbled over himself to follow. The road had clearly been built to follow the river, weaving back and forth over the fields to occasionally kiss the banks before winding away again. Zuko picked a spot of sandy ground—a terrible spot, really, that was going to be wet and gross if there was even a little rain—and slipped off Beaky’s back to start unloading without a word.

He had, apparently, decided that the best thing to do about Sokka following him was to pretend that he wasn’t there at all. Sokka sighed and kicked his shoes off next to Zuko’s growing pile of bags, ignoring the glare that Zuko sent his direction when they scattered sand at his feet.

A couple glass salamanders darted across the shore as Sokka approached the river, their translucent bodies disappearing as they slipped into the shallows. He watched their shadows blend into the reeds and then followed them in.

The river was growing thinner by the mile as they moved further and further from the coast. The water had been up his knees when he was spearfishing. Now it was only a few feet across, reaching no more than midway up his calf at its deepest point. Sokka rolled his pant legs up higher. The burn on his side still stung faintly when he leaned down, but it was manageable enough that he could ignore it. Sokka bent and cupped water to his mouth, then rubbed it over his head and the back of his neck, washing away the day’s grime.

Sokka paused with the cool skin of his palms pressed against his flushed cheeks. His feet ached from walking all night, and for most of the day, and the cold water was nice. He flicked the excess water from his fingers and wiped his hands on his thighs, then picked his way back toward the bank.

“I’m starving,” Sokka said, sitting down in the dry sand beside his discarded pack. Zuko just huffed, a quiet acknowledgement.

… seriously? He wasn’t even going to offer to share, when Sokka had been following him on foot, and they hadn’t stopped to eat all day?

“The river’s thinning out,” Sokka said pointedly. “There won’t be many fish left, soon.”

Zuko hesitated.

“We’ll find something,” he said. Sokka stared at him.

“Find something?” Sokka repeated. “Wait. You packed up all your stuff, stole a map, snuck off with Beaky, but you didn’t bring any food?”

“It’s—I left it in the cave,” Zuko said defensively. Sokka couldn’t tell if he was a reckless idiot, or just that much of a self-sacrificing jerk, that he’d left all those supplies for his uncle. Well… and for Sokka, if he hadn’t come after Zuko instead. “Anyway, you didn’t bring anything.”

“You didn’t exactly give me a chance to pack,” Sokka said. He sighed and pulled his bag into his lap. “I think I might have a few of those apricherries, still.”

“I don’t want your disgusting, squashed fruit,” Zuko said.

“Suit yourself,” Sokka said, but he still peeled the stuck together pieces apart and set half aside.

Zuko frowned at him, half way through tying Beaky to the sturdiest-looking tree nearby. “Are you just going to sit there?”

“Uh, yes?” Sokka said. “What else would I do?”

“How about you help?” Zuko asked. “Here, feed the ostrich horse.”

Zuko yanked the tie on Beaky’s reins tight, and then stomped over to drop the sack of sun oats unceremoniously at Sokka’s feet. Sokka gave the bag, and then Zuko, an unimpressed look.

“She has a name,” Sokka said.

“I will never call her that stupid—just, make yourself useful!” Zuko shouted.

“Can’t,” Sokka said. He leaned back, pillowing his head on his arms. Beaky had wandered over as far as her rope would allow, to try and peck at the outside of the sun oats bag with interest. “I’m too tired.”

“You are not too tired!” Zuko said.

“I walked all day,” Sokka said. He peeled off a piece of dried apricherry and stuck it into his cheek. They were surprisingly tart, and it made his mouth water. It also made him hungrier, reminding his stomach that he hadn’t eaten since last night. “And I walked half the night. I’m too tired, and I’m too hungry. Why don’t you catch us some fish?”

Zuko glared at him.

“Just—feed the stupid ostrich horse,” he snapped, but he did bend down to roll his pant legs up to his knees. Sokka watched Zuko stomp over to the side of the river to pick up and discard sticks like they’d personally insulted him.

Beaky was still pecking at the outside of the sun oats bag, obviously getting annoyed. She turned a beady, frustrated eye on Sokka, like she was thinking about pecking him for once, and—Sokka didn’t have anything against Beaky. It wasn’t her fault Zuko was a jerk who hadn’t let Sokka ride with him.

He opened the bag to peek inside.

“Three scoops,” Zuko said. He was doing a truly terrible job of sharpening a very awkwardly shaped stick. Sokka stifled a laugh, and did what he was told, tying up the bag again.

“There’s a brush in her saddlebag,” Zuko said. He turned to watch Sokka, like he didn’t trust him to find the right bag on his own. “The small bag. Not my bag.”

Sokka scoffed, but whatever. He’d brushed Appa before, so he guessed he could do that, too, even if Beaky was… sharper than Appa, with her pointy beak and claws, and she kept staring at him with her beady little eye like she didn’t trust him any more than Zuko did.

Zuko kept staring, too, although Sokka was pretty sure that was only half to make sure that Sokka was doing it right, and half him eyeing the fruit that Sokka had set aside for him, like he was regretting not taking them when Sokka offered.

Zuko stabbed his spear into the river bottom, and Sokka stifled another laugh. By the frustrated noise, Sokka was going to guess he’d missed.

“You’re doing great,” Sokka called. Zuko glared at him.

The camp was shaping up nicely, actually, even if it was a little too close to the river for the weather. Zuko had tied Beaky up far enough away that she couldn’t stomp all over their things, but next to a nice patch of grass that she had happily curled up in once she’d pecked up every last sun oat. She’d folded her head under one wing as soon as he’d finished brushing her, so Sokka was going to assume he was dismissed.

Sokka kicked a little divot in the sand to mark where the fire would go, and then turned to eye the rest of Zuko’s things, and his own small bag. They didn’t have all that much more to unpack, and that was making one problem very obviously apparent.

“I don’t have a bed roll,” Sokka said.

“I noticed,” Zuko said, without looking up. He was focused very intently on the water, but Sokka could tell just by the way that he was holding the spear that he wasn’t going to catch anything, so he didn’t particularly care about distracting him.

“So let me sleep on yours,” he said.

“Let—” Zuko stumbled, nearly slipped on the river bottom. He shot Sokka a flat look. “Then where am I supposed to sleep?”

“Just unfold it! It’s big enough for two,” Sokka said.

Zuko flushed angrily.

“I’m not sharing!” he snapped. “It’s mine!”

“Well, the tarp is mine,” Sokka said, “but you were happy to steal that.”

“It’s not—” Zuko tried to argue.

“It’s mine,” Sokka insisted. “So either you can share, and we can both be warm and dry, or you can be a stubborn jerk and enjoy sleeping on the wet ground while I freeze my—”

“Fine!” Zuko shouted, so loud that Beaky shuffled nervously around to stare at him. “Whatever, fine!”

“You’ll scare the fish,” Sokka said mildly.

Zuko gave him such a withering glare that it could have turned the grass brown, if the effect hadn’t been ruined by how red he’d turned while he was shouting. Sokka just rolled his eyes. The folded up end of the tarp was poking out of the top of Zuko’s bag, but when Sokka tried to grab it Zuko stomped out of the water and up the bank so quickly that he kicked water and little wet blobs of sand all over Sokka’s boots and calves.

Zuko snatched it before he could reach, and Sokka scoffed.

“Don’t touch my bag,” Zuko said. “I’ll do it.”

“Don’t you think you should start a fire?” Sokka asked, knocking his toe against the ground to shake the sand loose.

“I’ll do that too,” Zuko said. “And I’ll catch dinner. I’ll just do everything.”

Sokka laughed. “Give me the spear,” he said.

Zuko narrowed his eyes.

“Why?” he asked.

“Why—because you suck at this, and I want to eat more than a few dried apricherries today,” Sokka said. “So give me the spear. Eat your stupid squashed fruit. And start us a fire.”

Zuko glared at him. For a second, he looked like he was going to argue, but he just shoved the stick into Sokka’s hands with an annoyed huff. Then he snatched the fruit off the stone Sokka had set it aside on, and stomped off to gather kindling. Sokka watched him go, and then pulled out his knife to knock the spear into the sharper point.

Watching Zuko struggle to catch anything in the river was pretty hilarious, but the look on Zuko’s face he came back to see a fish already wriggling on the end of Sokka’s spear?

That was going to keep Sokka in a good mood for a long, long time.

Assembling the firepit involved a bit more punching fire than was probably, strictly necessary, but so long as Zuko kept it on the sand and away from Sokka, he didn’t really care. Zuko was sitting on top of Sokka’s tarp, sulkily poking the branches toward the center of the firepit when he finally waded out of the water.

Sokka stretched out next to him to soak up some of the heat while he cleaned his catch. He stuck them into the coals when he was done. He stretched, as gently as he could with his bandaged side, and leaned back on his elbows to watch their catch cook. The quiet… wasn’t as hostile as it could have been. As Sokka expected it to be.

It was almost… peaceful, which wasn’t a word he’d have ever thought to ascribe to spending time with Zuko.

When the skin started to curl around the edges, Sokka picked one of the fish out of the fire to check on it. He handed Zuko the bigger one, and then pulled his own fish out to blow on it. He honestly never thought he’d see the day where he got sick of eating fish, but Sokka would kill for even a single piece of seal jerky right now.

“Thanks,” Zuko said, in such a grudging, awkward tone that Sokka nearly laughed in his face. He managed not to, and so probably managed to keep his eyebrows, but Zuko narrowed his eyes at him anyway, as he started picking at his fish.

Meals at home were always loud and chaotic, especially before the men left, with large shared plates that felt like a challenge. More than once Sokka had come home late from playing hunter to find some cousin or another had stolen his place around the fire. Even after the men left, meals were wilder than this, storytelling, gossiping, bickering with Katara...

Now it was just quiet. And quiet wasn’t necessarily bad, or uncomfortable, but it was different. Sokka picked his fish clean, and then threw the bones into the fire, wiping his fingers on his pant leg.

“Well, I’m beat,” Sokka said. “Got a big day of walking ahead of me.”

The bedroll was… not as large as Sokka was imagining it would be, when he unfolded it, but he was not going to be deterred, especially with Zuko watching him with a sour look like he was regretting ever agreeing to share.

Sokka laid it out over the tarp, so they could at least stay warm and dry, and then shook the spare blanket out over it. He took the good side, the side closer to the fire, because if Zuko didn’t like it he could just light a second one.

Sokka settled under the covers with a sigh, and closed his eyes.

“... Stop staring at me,” Sokka said.

“I’m not staring at you,” Zuko snapped. And then the fire snapped, too, spitting around the scraps that Zuko had tossed into it. Sokka cracked an eye open to watch him come around the fire, angrily… no, reluctantly. Awkwardly.

Sokka stifled a laugh at the look on his face, like he was approaching an angry rat-viper, and not a bedroll.

Zuko laid down like he was climbing on top of a funeral pyre, stiff-limbed, hands flat at his sides with his palms pressed down against the fabric. Sokka rolled his eyes as Zuko grudgingly shuffled under the blanket with him.

He couldn’t help the surprised little sound that escaped him. It was much warmer under the blanket with Zuko. Sokka sagged back against the tarp, as much as someone could sag, against the hard, lumpy ground, and ignored how supremely awkward Zuko was being as he settled.

Sokka could either lie on his side, facing Zuko with his back to the fire, or he could lie on his back. The burn on his side meant putting his back to Zuko wasn’t really an option.

The burn was… really the only reason he wasn’t sleeping with his back facing Zuko. The thought fit strangely when it slid into his mind.

He wouldn’t have risked turning his back on him, weeks ago.

It didn’t even feel like a risk, now.

Still, sleeping on his side facing Zuko was awkward, especially with him lying there stiff as a board. Sokka rolled onto his back instead, mimicking Zuko’s corpse-stiff pose. They lay there in silence for a moment, staring at the dark branches crisscrossing the canopy under the muted moonlight. This was fine. Normal, and not weird at all. He shifted a little. He laced his fingers together over his stomach. He unlaced them, shifted again until his palms were stretched flat against his sides.

“Cozy,” he said lightly, and Zuko actually snorted a laugh.

The sun was in his eyes.

Sokka squeezed them shut, and buried his face further into his pillow, drawing the blankets higher. He was way too warm, his bed way too comfortable to abandon it for stupid chores. In the back of his mind, he was dreading the sound of the camp coming awake, of Katara prodding him until he eased, grumbling, out from Appa’s side, or just yanked his sleep-warm pillow out from under his cheek.

Someone shifted, a light touch ghosting almost tentatively over his arm. Then, his pillow sighed, and Sokka’s bed dipped. Sokka yelped as he was dumped onto the cold ground, and then blinked dazed, at—

Oh, right.

“Get up,” Zuko grumbled, looking just as rumpled and sleep-warm as Sokka felt. Sokka scrubbed a hand over his cheek, as he tried to get his brain to wake up with the rest of him. “I’m not wasting the whole morning waiting for you.”

Sokka groaned and grabbed the edge of the bedding. He rolled with it until he was wrapped up in the nice, firebender warm cocoon of fabric, effectively blocking out the morning light. Zuko huffed and nudged him with his foot, trying to unspool the tangle of blankets. Sokka refused to budge. He nudged again, harder.

“Get up, or I’m leaving without you,” Zuko said.

Sokka squinted at him through the very top of the blankets. Zuko looked deeply unimpressed.

“It’s early,” Sokka said.

“It’s way past dawn,” Zuko said. “I should have left hours ago.”

“And yet you’re waiting for me,” Sokka said.

“I’m waiting for my bedroll,” he said stubbornly. He nudged Sokka again, right in the side, and Sokka didn’t quite manage to hold back the little wince as it came a bit too close to tender skin. Zuko jerked back, looking guilty, and Sokka seized on it immediately.

“Five—fifteen more minutes,” he said.

Zuko frowned, and huffed, “Fine.”

Sokka dozed to the sound of Zuko packing up camp, being as obnoxiously loud as he could. He only poked his head back out from under the blankets when the noises stopped. Zuko was sitting a few feet away from him, just out of arm’s reach, watching him.

“Did you bring the medicine Song gave you?” Zuko asked.

Sokka sighed, and kicked the blankets back far enough to sit up.

“Yeah, I have it,” Sokka said. “It’s in my bag.”

“Well, have you been using it?” Zuko asked. Sokka scoffed.

“I was a little busy chasing after you,” he said. “It’s fine. It’s already healing, anyway.”

Zuko frowned and stood to grab Sokka’s bag, immediately yanking the drawstring back to start snooping around, because apparently Zuko threw a fit if Sokka so much as looked at his bag, but he didn’t have any problems touching Sokka’s stuff.

“We have time now,” he said, tossing the entire kit over, so that Sokka had to fumble to catch it. “Do it before we leave.”

Zuko settled down next to him, arms crossed, and just stared. Sokka rolled his eyes.

“Fine,” he said, popping the lid on the box. He’d… definitely been paying attention, when Song showed him what to do. It wouldn’t be that hard.

Zuko glanced away briefly while Sokka undid the ties on his robe, giving him some semblance of privacy, at least. The bandage on his side was rumpled, but still looked fairly clean. Well, Sokka didn’t really know how it was supposed to look, actually, but it seemed fine.

And he felt fine! He could probably just leave it as it was, and then he wouldn’t have to touch it…

He glanced at Zuko again, who was still stubbornly not-watching, and waiting. He huffed.

Sokka winced as he peeled the old bandage back, teeth clenched, eyes rolled toward the sky. This was definitely the worst part, and, yeah… maybe he’d been putting this off, because it was awful and it hurt to touch. His fingers felt clumsy taking the old bandage off, and he tried not to shake too badly and jostle the wound any more than he had to.

It did look better, at least. Or, Sokka thought it looked better. He didn’t really know what a healing burn was supposed to look like either, but the blistering and the redness had lessened, at least. That was probably the best he could ask for, given the circumstances.

The lid on the salve jar stuck, which was annoying, because Zuko just frowned at him the whole time while he struggled with it. Sokka huffed and dabbed a little on his fingers. He hated this stuff. What he wouldn’t give to be a water bender right now, or have Katara—

The burn was in an awkward spot, too. It was hard to reach, and he couldn’t really see what he was doing without twisting too much, which just tugged on the raw skin and made the whole thing harder.

Zuko was still sitting there, still watching him. Sokka glanced up when he cleared his throat.

“Stop staring at me,” Sokka said. If Zuko was bothered by Sokka snapping at him, he didn’t show it. He didn’t look away, either.

“You’re terrible at that,” Zuko decided.

“I’m—” Sokka clenched his teeth and forced himself to take a breath, because it wasn’t irritation that he was feeling. It was pain, and it was homesickness, and neither of those things were Zuko’s fault, even if he was being a big, blunt jerk about it. “I’m out of practice,” he said. “Usually Katara helps, and she’s got her whole… magic water thing going for her. So.”

“Let me do it for you,” Zuko said.

Sokka stalled, surprised. He’d thought Zuko was annoyed with him for holding them up. He definitely hadn’t expected him to offer to help, and it made something strangely close to self-consciousness stab at him. “You don’t have to.”

Zuko turned a little red. “You don’t know what you’re doing,” he said.

“Do you know what you’re...” Sokka said, but he cut himself off when Zuko gave him an unimpressed look. “Right. Uh, okay.”

Sokka handed the burn kit to him, and let Zuko shift over until he was right beside him. Sokka was—oddly nervous, in anticipation of the pain but also… just because. Whatever, he didn’t know why. The only thing that made it bearable was that Zuko seemed hesitant, too, as he fidgeted with the contents of the box.

Then, he took a bracing breath, and set the box down at his knee, salve and clean bandages at the ready. His fingers were warm against Sokka’s skin. His touch feathered incredibly gently around the edge of the burn for a moment, just looking.

“Tell me if it hurts,” Zuko said.

“It always hurts,” Sokka said grumpily.

“Then… tell me if I hurt you,” he said quietly. Sokka just nodded, feeling like his breath was caught in his throat, tense with anticipation.

Sokka braced himself, but—it didn’t really hurt, nothing worse than the prickling stinging he felt when it was exposed to the open air. Zuko was shockingly gentle, and the salve was cool against his skin, chasing away the pain and leaving a tingling numbness behind it.

He exhaled shakily when Zuko was finished with the salve. He moved on to carefully laying the bandage down.

“Did your uncle do this for you?” Sokka asked.

“No. I’m not helpless, so I did it myself,” Zuko said.

Sokka snorted, and Zuko’s shoulders came up, defensive, like Sokka was making fun of him. He wasn’t, really, it was just… once he’d realized that Zuko was literally always prickly, the stuff he said was a lot less likely to make him mad. Also…

Sokka tried to catch Zuko’s eye. He’d tilted his chin down a little more, to really focus on what he was doing. He might have been glaring stubbornly at the burn, but the back of his neck was a little red, and growing redder the longer Sokka stared at him.

Zuko may say some stupid, jerk things, but he usually seemed embarrassed about it afterwards. It was almost like he didn’t know how to talk to people without being a royal pain in the ass, and that was kind of funny in itself.

“I kinda figured it was an old scar,” Sokka said, graciously letting Zuko’s rudeness slide. Zuko frowned. A thoughtful one, this time, because Zuko was always frowning but they weren’t all the same, and Sokka was actually starting to get the hang of them.

“It is old,” Zuko said.

“Oh,” Sokka said. “How old?”

Zuko leaned back, putting a little more space between them, and hesitated.

“Three years,” Zuko said.

Sokka stared at him for a long moment. Three?

Was that a coincidence? It had to be, because Zuko’s sister had said he’d been hunting Aang for three years, and the alternative would be…

He still had a little bit of a challenge in his eyes, as Sokka’s gaze slid over to the raised skin of the scar on his cheek. He’d never looked at it before, or at least, never really looked, because it never mattered, and it felt rude to stare. But he was looking now, and Zuko didn’t seem to mind, and that was…

It didn’t look so different, really, from Sokka’s. Same redness, same shape, long healed, same… huh, same shape, he thought, it looked…

Well, it looked like a hand. Sokka saw it, he’d seen it before, but it hadn’t really clicked, and he could see his own realization reflected on Zuko’s face. Zuko looked tense, like he expected the question to follow. Sokka opened his mouth to ask, and Zuko seemed to shrink, a little, and that just—snapped him out of it.

“I hope mine heals that well,” he said, instead.

Zuko looked startled, and… relieved. Sokka smiled, and after a long stunned moment, Zuko did too, the barest turn of his lips.

“It—will. Yours will heal fine,” he said. “It might… not scar. You know, if you take care of it.”

That last bit he added very pointedly, and Sokka laughed again. He tilted his head down to redo the ties on his robe.

“You can do it for me,” Sokka decided, as he slowly eased himself to standing. He took a deep breath, carefully twisting from side to side. He hadn’t even noticed how distracting the discomfort from the burn had been, until it was gone. “Since it’s kind of your fault in the first place.”

Zuko snorted, and turned away to start fussing with Beaky’s saddle. There really wasn’t much left to pack, so Sokka set to rolling up the bedroll and tarp as tightly as he could. Too bad Zuko was too stubborn to appreciate the help—when Sokka moved to stuff it into Zuko’s pack, Zuko just snatched it out of his hands, grumpily, and stuffed it in himself.

Sokka rolled his eyes and turned to bury the remains of their campfire from the night before in the sand. It had burned down to ashes and coals by now, and Zuko had already made sure it was out, but it didn’t hurt to be extra careful not to leave remnants of peculiar firepits, just in case anyone got nosy. Zuko untied Beaky, stroking her nose and murmuring to her, uncharacteristically soft. Sokka watched until Zuko noticed him looking, and then Sokka grinned, which immediately earned him a scowl.

His feet were still sore from walking yesterday. He was absolutely not looking forward to walking today, but at least he was well rested, and had eaten, and was feeling all around better. Even his side hurt less, a little numb now from the salve. Zuko watched him impatiently as he tugged on his boots, and then hefted his own bag up onto his shoulders.

“Here,” Zuko said, thrusting the reins into Sokka’s hands.

Sokka took the reins, a bit clumsily, and Beaky followed her lead. She nudged Sokka on the shoulder, then the hand, looking for a treat. Sokka stared a bit dumbly, first at Beaky, and then at Zuko, who was looking increasingly impatient and scowly, arms crossed tightly in front of him.

Was he… being nice?

Zuko huffed.

“I’m tired of sitting,” he snapped, before Sokka could say anything. Sokka couldn’t help but snort as Zuko started to stomp away.

There was just one tiny problem.

Sokka turned toward Beaky. She was considering him patiently, with her beady little eye. He glanced at the reins.

“I actually don’t know how to ride this thing,” Sokka admitted, and that made Zuko stop. He turned back to look at him, torn between looking incredulous and irritated. Sokka felt the need to defend himself. “I mean—we don’t have ostrich horses in the South Pole! Where was I supposed to learn?”

Sokka reached out to… pet her nose? He’d seen Zuko do that earlier, a bit absently, so maybe she found that soothing. How hard could this be, right? He’d flown Appa before, after all. Well, Appa had mostly flown himself, but Sokka had sat and held the reins and they hadn’t even crashed or gotten lost, so this would probably be fine.

“Good bird… horse… thing,” Sokka crooned. “Please don’t break my neck—”

Zuko snatched the reins out of his hands. He grumbled under his breath as he hooked his foot in the stirrup and slung his leg over the ostrich horse’s back.

“Hey!” Sokka said. “We were bonding!”

“Shut up,” Zuko said, and then he held out his hand.

Sokka stared at it.

“...What?”

“You don’t… know how to ride an ostrich horse,” Zuko said. For a moment he looked—almost uncertain, his unburned ear tinged faintly pink, which… Sokka definitely must have been mistaken. He blinked, and Zuko was scowling again. Yep, that was more like it. Sokka stared for a bit too long, and the silence stretched thin.

Zuko made a frustrated sound and withdrew his hand. He lasted about two seconds before he thrust it out again, more forcefully. “Would you hurry up and just—”

“Are you offering to give me a ride?” Sokka asked.

Zuko scoffed.

“Nevermind,” Zuko said. He moved to flick the reins, and Sokka reached out hastily to stop him.

“Wait, wait, okay,” Sokka said quickly. “I really don’t want to walk.”

Zuko huffed and turned his head away, but he did offer his hand again.

Sokka took it, and let Zuko pull him up into the saddle behind him. There wasn’t a lot of room, and Sokka didn’t have any choice but to press flush against Zuko’s back. Immediately Beaky turned to glare at them. Zuko didn’t seem nervous, even though she clearly wasn’t happy with the added weight from this arrangement. Zuko turned to look at him, too, and Sokka nearly laughed when for a second he and the ostrich horse were both giving him matching, annoyed looks.

“You need to hold on,” Zuko said.

“I am holding on,” Sokka said. He hesitated for a second, trying to decide where to put his hands. Zuko huffed, and grabbed his wrists from where they were hovering by his sides, and then yanked him forward until they were wrapped around his waist.

“Hold on tighter,” Zuko said. “If you fall off, I’m not stopping for you.”

Sokka grumbled, “I’m not going to fall—”

Zuko flicked Beaky’s reigns, and Sokka suppressed a very manly squeak when she jolted forward, nearly dumping Sokka off in the process.

Riding an ostrich horse, he decided, was nothing like riding a sky bison, with a lot more swaying and jolting around. Also, Appa was much friendlier, and didn’t turn to glare at him every time he tried to shift his weight.

Sokka was probably holding on a bit too tightly. He was surprised that Zuko hadn’t said anything, even just to make fun of him. There was no way he couldn’t feel the way Sokka’s heart was pounding, which was... weird, actually, now that he noticed it. Sokka wasn’t afraid of heights, he wasn’t sure why riding an ostrich horse suddenly had his stomach in knots in a way riding Appa never did, but he was not going to admit it to Zuko of all people.

Sokka forced himself to relax his fingers, where they were clutching the front of Zuko’s shirt. To hold on like… like a normal person. It wasn’t so bad. It was just… just like a really long hug, if that hug was with a jerk and riding on the back of a very sharp and very testy animal who very much looked like she wanted to peck him to death.

It should have been awkward, but Sokka wasn’t feeling anything other than vaguely nervous. That was okay, because Zuko was awkward enough for the both of them.

Sokka shifted a little, trying to lean around Zuko, but Beaky glared at him.

“Will you hold still?” Zuko grumbled. He was slouching a little, so Sokka propped his chin on Zuko’s shoulder, so he could watch where they were going. Zuko went rigid, just for a second, and Sokka couldn’t really see his face but he could picture the outrage, the mental image enough to make him stifle a smile.

Then… Zuko relaxed, first his shoulder and then the rest of him, enough that Sokka could at least stop worrying that Zuko was going to change his mind and throw him off. Sokka settled his arms a little lower, hands a little looser. He let himself relax, too, against the warm weight at his front, and together the two of them turned their attention to the road ahead.

Chapter Text

Zuko picked their route, an unnamed trade road marked only by a thin gray line on his map, and stubbornly refused to let Sokka have any say on the matter. It didn’t look like much to Sokka, but it must have been at least somewhat well traveled, if the grooves in the packed dirt were any indication. They’d passed only a few people so far. Every time they spotted someone approaching in the distance, still just dusty specks on the hillside, Zuko insisted that they veered off into the trees to let them pass. Other than those few travelers, and with how determinedly Zuko avoided any road busy enough to take them through a town, all of the Earth Kingdom might as well have been empty.

Stagnant water pooled in the ditch along the side of the road, filled from the last rain and steadily drying in the sun. They were still following the Su Oku river, or rather, one of the smaller branches that joined with the river further downstream. By now they might have walked far enough for the river’s name to change on the map, but either way, they at least had water—not particularly appetizing, but clean enough, even if the fish were getting less and less plentiful as the days wore on.

Of course, that Zuko hadn’t brought any food with him was its own problem, considering that he wouldn’t let them stop in any villages to look for work to buy supplies. Lucky for him, Sokka had plenty of experience being both very hungry and very poor in the Earth Kingdom mainland, and he was getting very good at foraging for the rabaroo food that Aang called dinner.

“Look what I found,” Sokka said. “Breakfast!”

Sokka triumphantly dumped the upturned bottom of his shirt onto the corner of their blanket. Zuko didn’t seem nearly as impressed as he should have been, looking over the healthy pile of brown mushrooms and dark red berries, although maybe that was because Sokka had paused to wash them in the river first, and now they were getting the blanket wet.

The front of his shirt was wet, too, clinging to his stomach, but he hadn’t known he’d find dinner while he was getting water, and he’d needed something to carry them in. Sokka pulled it up to wring it out.

Zuko gave him a flat, skeptical look.

“We can’t just eat random plants and hope they don’t kill us,” Zuko said.

“They’re not random! This is fine Air Nation dining, I’ll have you know,” Sokka said. Zuko gave him a weird look, so he added, “You know... because Aang’s vegetarian? And we never had any money. I’m basically an expert at this by now.”

Sokka leaned forward and pointed to each. “These are beech wood mushrooms, and these are raspcurrants.” He paused, and then shrugged. “Well, I’m at least ninety percent sure about the berries. I already ate some, so they’re probably fine.”

The face journey Zuko went through was kind of hilarious: skeptical, then horrified and a little outraged, probably, that Sokka had eaten some without him, and then deeply, deeply annoyed. Sokka ate another raspcurrant, and his eyebrow twitched.

He almost expected him to argue more, but then a funny look stole across his face.

“...The Avatar is vegetarian?” Zuko asked instead.

Sokka stared at him.

“Well, he’s an Air Nomad, so,” he said. “Yes? Obviously?”

“Why is that obvious?” Zuko snapped.

“Why—dude, do they not teach you anything in the Fire Nation?” Sokka asked.

Zuko glared at him, and Sokka abruptly realized that, actually… maybe they wouldn’t teach about the Air Nomads in a Fire Nation school. If they did, he was sure it wouldn’t be the truth, and definitely wouldn’t be anything that had actually mattered, their culture and their history, things that humanized them, instead of whatever lies they’d sold to themselves to justify what Fire Lord Sozin had done. It almost made him wonder what they were teaching about the Southern Water Tribe, but… no, he didn’t think there was an answer to that question that wouldn’t make him angry, and pestering him about it now was just going to make Zuko even more prickly.

“Well, you were hunting him,” Sokka said instead. “Didn’t you do any research?”

“I don’t care what they ate,” Zuko said. “How would that help me find the Avatar?”

Sokka huffed, because of course that was all he had cared about.

“Hm,” Sokka said. “Well, the Air Nomads were vegetarian.” He picked up a raspcurrant and popped it into his mouth, chewing thoughtfully. “They farmed, according to Aang. Or, they did when they weren’t traveling the world. Stuff that grows at high altitudes, obviously, since the temples were up in the mountains. And they had this game called airball that—”

“I don’t care about this,” Zuko said sourly.

“Too bad,” Sokka said. “You’re gonna hear it, anyway.”

Sokka had a lot of good stories about the Air Nomads. Aang was a good storyteller, for one thing, and they’d had a lot of time to pass while they were flying on Appa, with no room to do anything other than sit, and hours and hours to fill until they’d covered enough ground to land again and stretch their legs.

Sokka wasn’t the greatest at sitting still with nothing to do, which Zuko had experienced first hand on the raft, but Aang really wasn’t, so they usually wrapped around to telling stories to entertain each other sooner than later. Sokka picked one he thought he could remember well.

“Aang says the monks used to take their sky bison down the mountain to forage, too. I guess bison fur is thick enough that stuff like grease berry brambles don’t really bother them, but one time…”

Zuko kind of looked like he’d bitten into an unripe pomelo lemon, expression twisted up somewhere between annoyance and bafflement that Sokka was boring him with a history lesson.

Sokka didn’t really care. Zuko could use a history lesson or two, apparently. Maybe he’d learn something. And maybe… maybe if Zuko realized that Aang was just a kid, that the Air Nomads were people, and Aang missed them and everything they’d lost, maybe Zuko wouldn’t want to chase them anymore, when Sokka finally found them. Maybe he’d realize how horrible it would be to turn a kid like Aang over to the Fire Lord. Maybe he’d hesitate the next time he got the urge to start punching fire at a twelve year old, if Sokka could convince him to think of him as ‘the kid who once accidentally dyed his sky bison grease berry purple’, or ‘smart enough to catch an elephant koi, and dumb enough to try to ride it’, instead of just ‘the Avatar, master of the elements and the last feather in the Fire Nation’s big, dumb, evil hat.’

Sokka shoved the mushrooms toward him. Zuko just stared at them for a moment, like he wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do with them, until Sokka made an impatient little gesture with his hands. What was the point of having a firebender around, if he still expected Sokka to build his own fire every time he needed to cook something?

Zuko squinted, annoyed, but got the meaning anyway. Sokka watched him work for a moment, slender fingers curling around each handful, until Zuko noticed him staring and shot him a sour look.

Sokka just stubbornly finished his story, dividing the raspcurrants into two neat piles. Zuko said he didn’t care, but he was listening, darting furtive glances up at him when he thought Sokka wouldn’t notice. He seemed—confused? No, more like he caught off guard by the banality of the story, brow knitted disbelievingly, like he was waiting for more—something fantastic, worthy of the world’s last hope, not just mundane and kind of amusing, the sort of mischief anyone might get up to.

The thing was, Aang was the Avatar, and a master airbender, but he was also just a kid, whose main concern up until very recently—well, recently for him, at least—was in making up new games to play with his airbending, spoiling his flying bison with treats, and learning the most aerodynamic way to launch a cake at someone’s head. Zuko seemed almost dissatisfied with the ending, settling into a stubborn silence that Sokka was happy to let him wallow in.

Sokka burned his fingertips a little, trading Zuko’s half of the berries for his part of the fresh cooked mushroom. They settled cross-legged on the ground with their meager breakfasts settled in their laps. He picked around his portion, spreading them out a little to cool.

Sokka wasn’t a huge fan of the beech wood mushrooms, mostly because he could never seem to cook them right, so they always turned out a little rubbery. Aang always insisted they were just as good as meat, which was a criminal comparison, in Sokka’s opinion. Zuko’s, at least, weren’t rubbery, though they were teetering dangerously on the edge between crispy and burnt. Sokka couldn’t do any better, though, and definitely not as easily as a toasty flick of his wrist, so he wasn’t going to complain.

The raspcurrants were juicy and almost too sweet. Sokka’s mouth watered as he bit into one. He snuck a glance at Zuko, who was eating his foraged meal reluctantly, eyeing the fruit as though he was certain Sokka was poisoning him with every bite. Sokka’s gaze slid over his juice-stained fingers, then up to his mouth. He glanced away, back up, away again, feeling—wrong-footed, because...

It was just disarming. Odd, really, to watch Zuko, who’d chased him across the world, sit there eating a handful of berries with all the gravity of a particularly tiresome chore, lips turning bright pink from the juices. It was a weird image, was all. He looked surprisingly human, not that—not that Zuko hadn’t already been that way around him, on the raft, or when he’d been sick, and carrying him…

Anyway, this Zuko was a lot better than the one that kept shouting and throwing fire at them, so maybe that was why it stuck in his mind, that he seemed so casual and non-threatening now, when before he’d just been angry and so damn uptight…

Zuko’s expression soured, suddenly self-conscious. With a little jolt, Sokka realized he’d been staring—ugh, super obviously, but it wasn’t like he could explain why. He wasn’t—it didn’t matter. He was just thinking, was all.

Sokka flushed and upended a handful of mushrooms into his mouth.

“Little overcooked,” Sokka said. He washed it down, and then smacked his tongue, making a face at the distinct essence of mud in the river water.

Zuko scoffed. “Cook your own, next time,” he said.

Sokka chuckled, mostly because the snippy reply sounded exactly like something Katara would say. Though honestly, he knew better than to rib her about her cooking, unless he wanted to end up soaked. He popped another mushroom in his mouth and made a face at the crunch.

“So, are you gonna tell me where we’re going yet?” Sokka asked.

Zuko rolled his eyes, annoyed by Sokka’s pestering.

“Inland,” he said tersely. Sokka huffed, because that was a cheap answer, so Zuko added, “Just… away from the Fire Nation.”

Sokka guessed that made sense. The real question was: were they moving away from the Fire Nation because Zuko knew that they were still hunting him, and he wanted to make himself scarce, or because he thought that moving away from the Fire Nation was what Aang would do? Sokka rolled a handful of raspcurrants in his palm, considering, but it was hard to say. Getting away from the Fire Nation for his own sake was the smart choice, but it honestly didn’t seem like whether or not something was the smart choice factored into Zuko’s plans very often.

“...Are you still looking for Aang?” Sokka asked.

“I don’t know,” Zuko said, finishing the last of his food. He wiped his hands on the grass beside him, and then pushed himself roughly to his feet.

Sokka scrambled to follow him as he was pulling himself into Beaky’s saddle. “You don’t know, or you’re not telling me?” he asked.

“I don’t know!” Zuko shouted. He snapped Beaky’s reins angrily, and she grudgingly started forward. Sokka watched Zuko storm off down the road, for all of about twenty feet, before he pulled to an abrupt stop and twisted around in the saddle to glare. He very grudgingly held out his hand. “Are you coming or not?”

It had been drizzling on and off for hours. The rain was light now, just enough that their clothes clung uncomfortably damp to their skin. Zuko was warm, at least, which Sokka appreciated, even though he’d grumbled about Sokka crowding him all afternoon.

“If Katara was here, she could just waterbend the rain off of us,” Sokka grumbled. He waved vaguely over his head, the same way she’d made a little magic water umbrella to keep herself dry. Predictably, the rain did not lessen, and the motion made him list a little to the side. Zuko grumbled while he resettled.

“Azula probably wouldn’t have gotten stuck in the rain in the first place,” Zuko said.

“Oh, what, she can predict the weather now, too?” he teased.

Zuko huffed, and Sokka barked a laugh at the annoyed look on his face.

“She’s lucky,” he insisted, the faintest edge of bitterness in his tone. Sokka hummed.

“I’d believe that,” Sokka said. Luck aside, she was ridiculously observant, or at least, she had been in the short time he’d been around her. Sharp, and terrifying, and perfectly composed, not a hair out of place. Just… infuriatingly flawless. Zuko sounded annoyed by it too, and yeah, Sokka could understand why. There was definitely some sibling rivalry there, and not the normal ‘squabble over the last scoop of sea prunes’ kind. Sokka couldn’t even imagine having to compete with that, except...

He sighed, and more quietly added, “I feel that way about Katara sometimes, too.”

Not the sharp and terrifying bit, and definitely not the composed part—he’d seen her in the mornings, groggily slithering out of her bedroll, and it was really kind of impossible to come back from that still thinking composed was an accurate descriptor. But… it was kind of hard to not be, maybe, just a bit annoyed when your little sister was crazy talented, and special, and everyone thought she was so impressive, and meanwhile you were just…

A flash of green caught his eye in the brush, and Sokka cut off that line of thought. He smacked Zuko on the shoulder, and the motion jostled Beaky’s reins enough for her to toss her head and glare at him.

“Woah, woah, wait,” Sokka said. “Stop here.”

“It’s too early to stop,” Zuko said, but he did slow down enough for Sokka to hop off Beaky’s back. He kept his footfalls light, boots whispering quietly against the wet grass. Zuko grumbled under his breath when Sokka ignored him, and added, “We should keep going while we still have light.”

Sokka grabbed a branch and snapped the end off, then quickly flicked it to a point with his knife. Zuko just trailed off, confused, until he saw what had him so distracted. There was a quilled chameleon settled on a low stump, watching a colony of fruit ants march across the leaf litter. Sokka crept very slowly forward. He raised his spear.

Beaky snatched it off the stump before Sokka could blink.

“Beaky, no!” Sokka shouted.

Beaky tipped her head back to swallow the lizard whole, quills and all. She blinked at him, and made a little chirruping noise. He groaned and scrubbed a hand over his face.

Sokka whirled to glare at Zuko. He hadn’t even tried to stop her.

“Dude!” Sokka said. “That was going to be our dinner!”

Zuko didn’t even have the decency to look apologetic. He crossed his arms.

“She’s been carrying us all day. She needs the protein,” Zuko said simply.

“I need the protein,” Sokka said. He planted his makeshift spear in the dirt and leaned his forehead against it. “I’m so sick of nuts and berries.”

“You’ll live,” Zuko said.

Well, yeah, he’d live, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to moan about it. Zuko lips twisted with amusement listening to him grumble, the unsympathetic jerk, but he offered his hand to pull Sokka up again without comment. Sokka eyed his hand balefully, with maybe a little more drama than Zuko deserved. He was tired of sitting, and being rained on, and being hungry, and he was dreading the idea of another few hours of riding. As if in agreement, his stomach protested that, too, which made Zuko huff and roll his eyes at him.

“We’ll find something,” Zuko promised, with what Sokka might once have foolishly thought was confidence, but was actually more likely his usual, thick-headed, no-plan stubbornness. Sokka scrubbed his hands over his face to muffle a groan.

Of course, with Sokka’s luck, finding something probably meant more nuts and berries and mushrooms and ugh. He kicked the edge of the stump lightly, knocking the mud loose from the bottom of his shoe, and squinted off into the trees, like maybe if he pouted enough the forest might take pity and send some better pickings his way…

And then he hesitated, the toe of his boot on the edge of the stump, and blinked at the tall grass. He stepped up and over into the wet mud on the other side, prodding at the wispy reeds with his boot.

“Hey, look at this,” Sokka said.

“More lizards?” Zuko asked.

“No,” Sokka said. He pushed the tall grass back, revealing the divots in the mud. “Footprints.”

Zuko frowned and crossed his arms, clearly unhappy.

Whatever, he was never happy. But footprints off the beaten path made Sokka think they were probably from the locals, people who knew their way around and didn’t need to stay on the road as much. Of course, they could just be from other wayward lizard hunters, but Sokka was going to be optimistic. Locals meant there might be a town nearby, and a town meant a market, and a market meant real food, maybe meat and rice and, spirits, even overly gingery pastries, Sokka would take anything at this point.

Zuko was giving him one of those squinty, impatient glares that meant he probably knew exactly where Sokka’s mind was wandering off to. Well, too bad. If he wanted to avoid the locals, he should have thought of that before he let Beaky eat their dinner.

The road was well-worn with the evidence of cart-tracks and riders, so it wasn’t too surprising when the edge of a settlement peeked up over the distant hillside, built on the crest of one of the lazy rolling hills they’d been meandering over for the last couple days’ travel. Sokka leaned over slightly for a better look.

He was sure that Zuko had spotted it, because there was really nothing else to look at while they were riding. He made no move to steer Beaky toward it, though.

“Do you think—” Sokka tried, but Zuko cut him off before he could finish the thought.

“We’re not stopping,” he said, predictably.

Sokka groaned.

“We can’t cross the entire Earth Kingdom without ever stopping,” Sokka said. “We can’t forage forever. Eventually we’re going to have to buy supplies.”

Zuko huffed. “They’ll recognize me,” he said.

“You sure are full of yourself,” Sokka said. “You know, not everyone you meet is obsessing over your dumb face.”

Sokka certainly wasn’t. He could, personally, take or leave Zuko’s face. It wasn’t like—it was a normal face. Definitely not worth thinking about, or dwelling on, or anything.

“No, I mean… do you see those banners?” Zuko asked.

Sokka followed the line of his finger toward the village. It was small, and even from a distance Sokka could see that there probably wouldn’t be much of a market. It was hard to tell for sure, though, because most of the village was obscured behind a cobbled wall, which wrapped around the settlement in its entirety. They’d seen a lot of those, especially as they got closer to Ba Sing Se. He wondered whether that had anything to do with Iroh, and the Fire Nation’s siege years ago. Little towns thinking, ‘well, it worked for Ba Sing Se, it could work for us’, and all the while anyone outside the wall was as good as on their own.

The walls bracketing the gates were draped with dusty banners stitched from Earth Kingdom green. Sokka couldn’t make out the markings from this distance, but the purpose was clear enough.

“They’re quartering Earth Kingdom soldiers,” Zuko said. “There’s a base to the south of here. I… er, my crew… the Fire Nation may have run into them, near Pohuai Stronghold. Once or twice.”

They way he said it did not at all make it sound like a casual, once or twice thing. Sokka frowned.

“Anyway,” Zuko said hastily, maybe sensing Sokka’s suspicion. “We shouldn’t risk it. We should…”

Zuko paused, and leaned back to fish around in his bag. He rested his weight on Sokka’s thigh for a moment as he reached around him. The rain spattered the outside of the scroll case, and Zuko curled over it a little to shield it from the rain with the brim of his hat before he unfurled his stolen map. He traced a small area with his finger, and Sokka leaned into the warmth of his shoulder, just so he could see better.

“This whole area reports to General Fong,” he said. “His base is… here, somewhere in the mountains. I don’t know where, exactly, but… they were a pain, for my crew. Before. Annoyingly persistent, even when we were just... passing through, near Pohuai Stronghold—”

“Hunting Aang, you mean,” Sokka said.

“Passing through,” Zuko insisted. He glanced back at him with a strange expression on his face. Sokka just raised an eyebrow, puzzled by the tone. Even more confusingly, Zuko sighed with something like relief—maybe just relieved that Sokka wasn’t going to argue with him. He turned back to the map. “If we keep going east we should be able to avoid them.”

Sokka eyed the wall once more, with all the tantalizing promise of delicious meats and dry beds inside. He sighed.

“Fine,” Sokka said reluctantly. “We’ll keep going.”

It might still be a little overcautious, in Sokka’s opinion. Even if they had run into Zuko’s crew before, what were the odds that they’d recognize him now, so far from his ship and all his Fire Prince luxuries, dressed in dusty Earth Kingdom rags with a Water Tribe travel companion? Yeah, not likely.

Zuko seemed relieved, though, so Sokka wasn’t going to press the issue.

The rain wasn’t even coming down that hard, but it was just slightly too cold to be comfortable, and the drizzle just steady enough to keep them wet and miserable all day. The weather had been better in the morning, when the slightly gray-washed sky was still letting the sun through, but the clouds had steadily darkened over the afternoon, and then the wind had picked up.

Sokka hadn’t realized it rained so much in the Earth Kingdom. He’d said as much, and Zuko had assured him it was nothing like the rainy season in the Fire Nation, where sometimes they would suffer through storms and flooding for weeks at a time. The worst of it, apparently, being the lack of sunlight under the stormy skies.

Sokka had mentioned that if Zuko thought a couple weeks of gray skies was bad, he should try the polar nights they had at the South Pole. Zuko had looked at him like he’d rather die, which had gotten Sokka feeling a little defensive, because, hey, it may be dark but it wasn’t all bad, and it sure was better than this. Which was how he’d ended up describing what it was like living in the South Pole, with the scant snow of the dry season, the comforting blanket of darkness wrapped around their village, and the endless stars.

Zuko mostly just kept his head down against the rain and hummed vague acknowledgements to show he was listening when Sokka prompted him. Eventually Sokka’s teeth had started to chatter, which made talking about anything difficult, and he’d trailed off to focus on keeping warm instead. Zuko hadn’t really seemed like he was paying much attention, anyway, which Sokka didn’t really blame him for, because all Sokka could think about was this miserable rain.

Sokka pressed his face against Zuko’s back, ducked down against the wind. Like this, the edge of Zuko’s hat was dripping down the back of Sokka’s collar, but Zuko’s back was so warm, and Sokka’s robe was already wet, anyway. The Earth Kingdom just didn’t make their clothes like the Water Tribe, and it seemed like a little water was all it took for the heat to be sapped out of him. The wind cut right through him, and Sokka shivered.

Zuko glanced over his shoulder at him, frowning. After another moment, Beaky’s steps slowed. Sokka glanced up as she began plodding down off the path into the trees.

“What are you doing?” Sokka asked.

“Stopping for the night,” Zuko said.

“What happened to it being too early to stop?” Sokka asked.

“It’s cold,” Zuko said. He looked a little defensive as he said it, which made Sokka squint suspiciously at him.

“You don’t get cold,” Sokka said.

“I get cold,” Zuko insisted, “sometimes. Anyway, it’s—if we rest now, maybe the storm will pass. It’d be easier on the ostrich horse. We’ll wear her out, like this.”

“Sure,” Sokka said. “Makes sense.”

Sokka’s limbs were stiff with the cold, and from sitting for so long. He grumbled and bounced on his heels, trying to get the blood flowing again while Zuko dragged their bags off of Beaky’s back. He tossed Sokka’s bag at him without warning, and he yelped as it bounced off his head and landed clumsily in his arms. Sokka made a face at him, because Zuko was very clearly trying not to laugh behind his tipped-down hat as he hefted his own bag up and carried it into the trees. Beaky immediately plopped down into the shelter of a thick branched tree—probably the only vaguely dry spot in the area—and then turned a hairy eyeball on Sokka like she was daring him to complain. Zuko smiled and patted her head.

The bedroll was only a little damp, wrapped up until inside the turtle seal skin tarp. Zuko considered the bedding, and the soaked ground, and the rain drizzling through the canopy, like a particularly complicated puzzle.

“Here,” Sokka said, gesturing for him to hand the tarp over. It was probably big enough to fold over itself, and still had the ties on the ends, though one edge of it had begun to fray where he’d been plucking at it in a fit of boredom back on the raft. With the tarp tied off in a roughly tented shape, with enough ground covered on the bottom edge to keep the rain from soaking through, there was just enough space left over to squash the folded up bedroll inside.

Sokka wiped his forehead when he was done, and then flicked the water from his face. He glanced at Zuko, who was eyeing the setup reluctantly, twisting the end of Beaky’s reins in his hands. Sokka considered the tent again. It would be… a tight fit.

But they would fit. So.

“Well,” Sokka said. “It’ll be cozy, at least.”

It wasn’t particularly funny, but Zuko relaxed a little at the attempt at a joke, anyway.

“Yeah,” Zuko said. He took his hat off and flicked it to shake the water out, scrubbing his fingers over the short hairs on the nape of his neck. “Um, right, well. Go on, then.”

The front opening of the tent was sagging a little, with slightly less support from the frayed edge where he’d tried tying it off around the low branches of a little sapling. There was really no dignified way to climb inside a makeshift tent fit, maybe, for an eight year old playing pretend, but Zuko was watching his attempt with a morbidly fascinated sort of amusement, so he was sure going to try.

Sokka kind of just… wiggled forward on his elbows until he was far enough inside to not get his pants all muddy, and then he crawled the rest of the way. The inside of the tent was already warmer, just from being cut off from the wind.

Sokka settled down on the bedroll with a sigh, then rolled onto his side. He tugged his hair band out and looped it loosely around his wrist. His burn was healing well, but still sensitive, and not particularly comfortable to put pressure on. It was definitely more comfortable dry, too, and the rain hadn’t been great for that. But then again, the rest of him was also more comfortable dry, so it didn’t really feel like it was worth complaining about.

The gentle patter of the rain was magnified inside the hollow of their tent. He was dripping on the bedding, a little, as he got situated, but… everything was damp already, really, so there was nothing he could do about it at this point. It took Zuko another moment to finish hitching Beaky next to their tent, where she was sheltered from the rain and wind. Then he came around again, and stared at the tiny little opening until Sokka finally patted the bedding next to him impatiently.

Zuko huffed a little self-deprecating laugh, trying to crawl forward enough that he was fully inside. He somehow managed to look even stupider than Sokka had, and also kind of squashed Sokka in the process, but eventually he managed to wriggle around enough to slide down into the space behind him. Even scooting over as far as he could go, Zuko seemed to radiate heat like a furnace. Sokka could feel his breath feathering against the back of his neck. He leaned forward a little to give him more room, so that his front was pressed against the damp corner where the bedroll met the edge of the tarp.

It wasn’t awkward. There was absolutely nothing awkward about it, and no reason for him to feel so weirdly nervous, when they’d shared the bedroll every night since he’d left. It was slightly more cramped, but that was fine, and Zuko was very warm at his back, but he was always warm, and anyway, that was good because it was cold and wet and miserable outside.

Zuko shifted a little, trying to get comfortable. His knee bumped against the back of Sokka’s thigh and then just kind of stayed there, resting, startlingly warm against his rain-soaked skin. Sokka tried to scoot over, to give him a little more room. He shivered at the cold seeping in from the edge of the tent.

“You can…” Zuko murmured, trailed off. He nudged Sokka’s shoulder a little, but it kind of felt like he was tugging Sokka toward him, not away, which—didn’t make sense, because why would he…?

“What?” Sokka asked.

“You can lean on me, if you’re cold,” Zuko said.

“Oh,” Sokka said faintly. “Sure. Okay.”

Sokka hesitated for another moment, and then finally shifted backward. He leaned against him, with his back pressed against Zuko’s chest. It was warmer like this, huddled close to the firebender heat of Zuko's skin. He was feeling a little flush, actually, and... yep, that was probably just from the warm shock to his skin after so long in the rain. It was making his heart beat a little faster, too, and he wondered if Zuko could feel his pulse thrumming.

His breathing seemed almost too loud in the quiet, with the dull white noise of the rain washing over them the only thing splitting the silence. Zuko’s arm was just sort of hovering there, like he couldn’t decide where to put it. Sokka guided him down by the wrist until his hand was resting over his side.

“Thanks,” Sokka said.

Zuko’s arm was really, really warm, with his elbow hooked over Sokka’s waist. Like, distractingly warm, and Zuko didn’t even seem aware of it, touching him so hesitantly, like he was afraid Sokka would melt away under his arms. He seemed a little tense, actually, which made Sokka pause.

“Are you… comfortable?” Sokka asked.

“It’s fine,” Zuko said, in a tone that clearly conveyed not really, but with it pouring rain outside, there wasn’t much either of them could do about it.

Katara could have, if she was here. She could have waterbended them a nice dry spot, maybe even done her little freeze-y trick and made them a shelter out of ice. He was sure that wherever she was, she was warm and comfortable, with her bending.

Maybe if he had been... but no, there was no point in wondering about could-have-been’s. Sokka was just a normal guy, and he couldn’t waterbend like his baby sister. And that was fine. He was a warrior, he was the plan guy, he could do other things, even if he couldn’t bend. That was okay, even if Katara was a master waterbender now, and Sokka couldn’t even hold onto his boomerang. He loved her, and normally he wouldn’t let himself dwell on stuff like this, just...

It was hard not to compare himself to her when he was lying here, wet and kind of miserable, no matter how much he loved her.

That just made him think of what Zuko had been saying about his own sister, earlier. That she was born lucky. Or what he’d said even before that, outside of Song’s house, when he’d so confidently told Sokka that there wasn’t anything his sister couldn’t do…

It was kind of weird, actually, that Azula seemed to want him dead, and Zuko was still singing her praises.

Sokka didn’t get that family at all.

“Hey, Zuko?” Sokka asked.

Zuko didn’t immediately answer, but he wasn’t fooling anyone with that pretending-to-be-asleep nonsense. Sokka poked him, and after a beat of quiet, Zuko sighed. His breath feathered against Sokka’s hair, ruffling the loose strands.

“What is it?” he asked.

“About your sister,” Sokka said. He could feel Zuko growing tense behind him. Maybe it was a jerk move, to bring her up, but Sokka had just been thinking… he and Katara had practically done everything together, their entire lives. He loved her, even if she annoyed him, even if he was maybe, sometimes privately a little jealous of her. He couldn’t think of a single thing that Katara could do that would make Sokka agree to hunt her down, even if Dad asked him to.

“Has she always been so…” Sokka trailed off, and amended. “I mean, were you ever close?”

Zuko shifted a little, uncomfortable.

“We used to be,” Zuko said. “When she was really little. Before… before she started training her bending, maybe. And we used to play together with her friends, when we were kids.”

“What happened?” Sokka asked. He wasn’t sure if Zuko understood the question, with how long he hesitated before he finally sighed.

“Our father had high expectations,” Zuko said. “Azula could actually meet them.”

Azula was younger than Zuko. She’d have been… maybe the same age Sokka was when his dad left, when Zuko was banished from the Fire Nation. He couldn’t help but wonder how well a kid that young could meet anyone’s expectations, and what might happen if they tried.

It… would explain some things about her, for sure.

“Anyway,” Zuko said, after a short pause. Sokka got the impression he’d been thinking the same thing. He almost regretted bringing it up. “We should sleep while we can.”

“Right,” Sokka said. That was probably for the best. If the rain didn’t let up, they would be in for another miserable day tomorrow, or at least until they found somewhere better to wait out the bad weather.

Rain pounded against the roof of their tent, loud enough to startle him half-awake. It was truly pouring now, and Sokka could feel the edge of where the water was pooling under the folded-up corner of the tarp, flooding over even their attempts to keep dry. It was uncomfortably humid, damp from the rain and warm from Zuko’s body heat at his back. The roof of the tent was a little squashed down, and it took Sokka a moment to realize why. Beaky had shifted over sometime while they were sleeping, to lean against the warm side of the tent at Zuko’s back. The new slope of the tent was making the rain pool lazily by their feet, and the toe of his boot swished with muddy water when he scooted further up.

Another gust of wind hammered rain down on them, spattering against their boots at the open end of their tent. Lightning flashed, with thunder so close behind that the roll of it was near inseparable from the light. It was that sound, over the howling of the wind, that dragged Sokka the rest of the way out of his fitful dozing.

Zuko had curled forward in his sleep, cheek pressed flat against the back of Sokka’s neck. Sokka rolled so that he could glance over his shoulder.

“Zuko,” Sokka said. “Wake up.”

“Mn?” Zuko hummed. He blinked confusedly at him. “What’s wrong?

“We need to move,” Sokka said. He pushed himself up enough to untie one corner of the tent, and rose half-way to his knees. There wasn’t a lot of room for him to move around, but he managed to shuffle over enough to peer out into the dark. Lightning flashed again, glinting bright off the water pooling around the river’s edge. It hadn’t spilled over the bank yet, but with how hard it was raining…

“We’re too close to the river,” Sokka said. “This whole area’s gonna flood if it keeps raining like this.”

Zuko glanced down at the river and cursed.

Beaky was sitting with her head tucked under her wing when they crawled outside, still leaning against the warm side of the tent where Zuko had been sleeping. Zuko huffed, and the water dripping down in his eyes hissed away as steam. He scrubbed his face against his shoulder.

Beaky peeped, disgruntled, when Sokka yanked the tarp down from its hangings.

“Here,” Sokka said. He leaned closer and held the tarp over Zuko’s head, to keep the rain off him while he struggled with the knot in her reigns. They were both already soaked, just in the time it took for them to strike their camp, but at least this way it made it a little easier for him to see what he was doing, without the wind lashing so harshly against his face.

They walked along the river for a few minutes, until the water began to swell up over the banks. It forced them up onto the far side of the road. Even up here, the ground had been desperate for rain, and the sudden deluge was too much for it to take. Water sluiced off the sun-cracked dirt, coming down too quickly to absorb into the dry soil.

Lightning flashed, followed almost immediately by the roll of thunder, close. Beaky startled at the sound, enough that Zuko had to slide down off her back and grip her halter to shush her. Sokka’s boots squelched in the mud when he followed him.

“Zuko,” Sokka had to raise his voice over the wind, and even then it took Zuko a moment to register his name being called. He glanced back at him over his shoulder, frowning. “I think we need to go back to that town.”

Zuko stared at him.

“I know you don’t trust them, but it’s freezing! We need to get out of this rain, and we’re not going to find a better place to set up camp. This whole area is a mudslide waiting to happen, we—”

“You’re right,” he said.

“—should… oh,” Sokka said, his next argument dying on his lips. “Really?”

Zuko huffed. “Just until the rain stops.”

They walked alongside Beaky the rest of the way, Zuko leading Sokka, and Sokka leading Beaky.

The wind lashed at the tarp over their heads, trying to snatch it out of his hands. Sokka cursed and gave up on it, wrestling with the wind long enough to squash it down into a little lump and stuff it into Beaky’s soaked saddlebag. It wasn’t keeping them dry, anyway. The rain was coming down so hard that it was splashing up at them from below, even if they tried to hide under cover. Zuko cursed as another gust of wind snatched his hat away. It disappeared into the darkness in moments.

With the cloud cover from the storm, the night was so dark that Sokka could hardly see a few feet in front of him. Zuko had a tiny lantern, hardly enough to fight off the oppressive dark. He cradled it in his palm, hand flat over the top to keep the shutter from blowing open. The flame sputtered weakly, an unsteady rise and fall as the rain dripped in through the seams. Sokka was sure it would have gone out entirely, if Zuko wasn’t holding the wick steady with his bending.

It was hardly enough, but at least this way when he looked down and shielded his face against the lashing rain he could see the shadow of the road in front of them in the weak firelight. Sokka clutched Beaky’s reins in both hands and followed the road, and followed Zuko, too, who kept glancing back at him in the dark.

He was soaked, and freezing, and it was reminding him, a little, of the ocean, of that night and the storm that followed after. Sokka glanced up at the sky again and wished he could see the moon, but all there was was endless black clouds that blended into nothing, and pounding rain that forced him to squint and shield his face and look away.

There was a low light burning inside the gate house, the smell of wood from the stove. Even just standing by the entrance, Sokka could feel the warmth washing out into the rainy night through the open door. There was only one guard. He hovered by the door for as long as he could before he finally ventured out into the rain to meet them.

The man was wearing a heavy alpaca mink wool cloak, and a wide brimmed hat tipped low over his face, but Sokka could see the Earth Kingdom army uniform peeking out from underneath. He glanced over, trying to tell if Zuko had noticed too, but Zuko wasn’t looking at the guard. He was looking at Sokka, finger curled tight around the doused lantern. He nodded just slightly in encouragement.

“Maybe you should wait here,” Sokka said. It was dark, and with his hair growing in short, he wasn’t very recognizable, except for the scar. Still, better not to risk it. “I’ll go talk to them first.”

Zuko nodded. He took Beaky’s reins and stood back to watch as Sokka approached the gatehouse.

“The gate closes after dark,” the man said, before Sokka had the chance to speak. He’d been standing staring off into the night as though he hadn’t noticed them there for their whole approach, but now he was watching them both, with that same distrustful look they’d gotten in Song’s village, like a pair of rat vipers come crawling out of the woods.

“We’re just trying to get out of the rain,” Sokka said. “Please.”

“Gate’s closed,” he said.

Aang, he thought, would have been able to convince him. He was just—hard to say no to, charismatic and charming. Katara probably would have just told him off, which shouldn’t work but probably would have, anyway.

Sokka didn’t think he looked particularly intimidating, soaked to the skin and shivering in the rain.

“We have money,” Sokka said. Not enough, and they really shouldn’t waste it on luxuries like inns and stables, but he was soaked, and shivering, and right now he didn’t care. The man eyed him skeptically. Sokka knew how they looked, probably worse now all miserable and wet. He insisted, “Some money.”

“I might be able to open the gate,” the man said at length. Sokka waited, but he didn’t say anything else, so he prompted:

“If we pay you,” Sokka said.

“Might,” the man allowed.

Sokka dug around in his bag for his wallet. Most of his things were soaked—not that he had much, other than the spare clothes Song had sent him off with, and the thin blanket that wouldn’t do anything to keep him warm right now. His wallet was tiger seal skin, though, and neatly stitched. The coins inside were mostly dry, except for the spattering of rain when he opened it to check. He had… a couple silver, and mostly copper pieces. Sokka didn’t know what the conversion was, here. He thought it would have been enough in the Southern Earth Kingdom, to buy their way inside, and for food and a bed. But here in the North with the Fire Nation occupied territories so close, and all the refugees, it was hard to predict how far his money would stretch from town to town.

The man plucked the wallet out of his hand and shook the contents out into his palm. He hummed and gave Sokka a look. He shuffled the coins back into the wallet, pulled the drawstring closed. Then he hesitated again, eyed Sokka and then Zuko behind him, where he was standing holding Beaky’s reins.

“Gate’s closed,” he said.

“What?” Sokka asked.

“Get lost,” he said.

“You—no,” Sokka said. “You said—”

“I said might,” the man said, “and I can’t. Gate’s closed.”

Sokka reached out to take his money back, and the man leaned a half-step back.

“Give me my wallet,” he said. He tried to snatch it out of the man’s hand, but he just grabbed Sokka’s wrist and shoved him away. Sokka wrestled with his grip for a moment, trying to keep his feet. His fingers felt clumsy from so long out in the cold, and the man was strong, and a good head taller than him. He shoved him back again, and that time Sokka slipped on the rain-slick entryway. He landed hard in the mud.

The man’s lip curled. He slipped the wallet into his pocket.

“The Earth Kingdom thanks you for your contribution,” he said. “The army appreciates your support.”

“Hey!” Zuko shouted. The man scowled. Sokka whirled around at the sound, just as the guard fell back into a bending stance. Zuko was drawing his swords, looking so furious that Sokka’s heart leapt up into his throat.

Another light came on in the gatehouse. And then another, drawn by the shouting.

“Z—Lee!” Sokka shouted. “Don’t!”

They didn’t know this guy, or how many people he had with him. They didn’t know who he was associated with, who he knew or who might recognize them if they came looking. They couldn’t afford to pick fights with the Earth Kingdom army.

“You should listen to your friend,” the man said. He patted his pocket, absently, and backed toward the gatehouse door. “Seems like a smart kid.”

Zuko looked murderous, but the man hardly seemed bothered by it. Sokka felt murderous, and for just a second his temper flared, looking at the soldier’s smug face, but…

He crushed the anger down, just as quickly. They were lucky it was dark, that he didn’t seem to recognize him. The man just looked Zuko up and down with faint amusement, eyes lingering on his swords before he turned back for the gatehouse. The door slammed shut, and the small amount of warmth and light from inside winked out.

Sokka pushed himself up off his elbow and stared at his muddy hand, scraped raw from catching himself. His hand stung when he wiped the mud on his knee. Zuko crouched down next to him.

Sokka was frustrated. He could feel it pressing against the back of his eyes, and that was just humiliating. He glanced at Zuko and away, quickly, eyes downcast.

“I’ll get it back for you,” Zuko said. He sounded so deadly serious that Sokka was sure that he would. It made his stomach twist anxiously, and Sokka grabbed his wrist to stop him, before he could get any dumb ideas.

“No,” Sokka said quickly. The last thing he needed was for Zuko to do something reckless, like draw his swords on them, or burn the guardhouse down. “No, just—it’s not worth it. It’s just a few coppers.”

Zuko stared at him for a long moment, like he was trying to decide whether he agreed. Sokka scrubbed the back of his wrist against his cheek, and it came back streaky with mud. The rain washed the spot away in moments.

Zuko nudged him, just slightly, his hand warm against Sokka’s shoulder. He stood, and waited for Sokka to rise with him. Sokka pulled his feet in.

“We should go, then,” Zuko said. He waited another moment. “Sokka?”

Sokka huffed, and scrubbed a hand over his face. “Just...”

“Hey, come on,” Zuko said. He reached for Sokka’s hand, then grabbed him by the wrist with the other. “It’s fine. We’ll just… go somewhere else. Beaky is waiting. You’ve gotta get up.”

“You called her Beaky,” he said.

“It’s still a stupid name,” Zuko insisted. He tugged on Sokka’s hand again, and this time Sokka let him pull him to his feet.

Chapter Text

Even the road had started to flood by the time they left the tiny spot of light from the guardhouse behind them. Sokka wasn’t sure if it was just his misery that was making him imagine the storm coming down harder than before, or if the spirits really were trying to punish them.

He’d resigned himself to hunting out a spot of high ground, whether there was cover to shelter under or not, at least until the rain subsided. They would be wet and miserable, and they probably wouldn’t get any sleep, but the storm had to pass eventually. It would suck, but they’d live, and Zuko wouldn’t get into trouble on his behalf, picking fights with Earth Kingdom soldiers, and that was all that mattered.

“Look,” Zuko said.

He pointed off into the darkness. It took a long time for Sokka’s eyes to adjust to the distance enough to see it, the vague shape of a building set off a high stone path up the hillside. Sokka stared at the shadow, twice-shy suspicion coiling in his stomach, and then turned back to Zuko, uncertain. There was no light to see by.

Zuko caught his hand—the one holding Beaky’s reins, and maybe he was just trying to take her from him, but his fingers were warm against Sokka’s rain-chilled skin, and when he tugged them both forward he didn’t let go until they’d reached the end of the path.

The building looked like a temple. There was a wide eave overhanging the temple doors, and Beaky moved right for it without them having to urge her forward. She made an unhappy sound and sat almost the moment she was out of the rain, completely done with the storm and the walking. The stubbornness made Zuko huff a little sympathetic sigh. Sokka hitched her to one of the columns next to the temple entrance, fingers frustratingly clumsy. His scraped palms stung in protest. He glanced back at Zuko, who’d been dragging their soaking wet bags off her back.

Sokka waited until Zuko had tucked their very sullen ostrich horse under the tarp to keep her warm and tied it off so it wouldn’t be torn away by the wind, and then together they pushed aside the large wooden doors, just wide enough that they could slip inside the empty hall.

Sokka wasn’t familiar with the Earth Kingdom’s spirits, really. Just by looking, he couldn’t tell what they paid tribute to here. He hoped it was a kind one, or at least a spirit that wouldn’t mind them trespassing to get out of the rain. His last two encounters with disturbed spirits had both ended pretty badly for him, and this time there was no convenient Avatar with a pocket full of acorns to put it to rest, and no Yue to save him, so he’d really rather avoid angering them.

He wondered if Zuko was having the same thought, as he hesitated on the temple threshold. The room was wide and empty, made entirely of plain stone, although the high walls were decorated with engravings that might have been brightly painted, once, but had faded into muted tones over time. There was a cenotaph at the back of the room, and the sight of it made him even more hesitant, and more uncertain of their welcome. The rest of the room was empty, though—no art, no idols, and Sokka wondered whether the place was abandoned, or if whoever worshiped here was just… not very materialistic, or something, someone Aang might get along with…

Zuko nudged him. He was frowning, the tilt of his mouth etched with concern.

“I’m fine,” Sokka said automatically. He was, mostly. He was soaked, and filthy. The pounding rain had washed off most of the mud, so that all that was left was the ground in dirt clinging to his clothes, uncomfortable and gritty but at least not as bad as it could be. He quickly gave up on not tracking water inside. The floor was stone, and it would clean well enough.

He was freezing though, and the stone walls and high ceiling didn’t make the room much warmer than the outside. It was a relief to be out of the rain, but without the worry of what next, he couldn’t stop his mind from wandering back to the Earth Kingdom soldier, to making a fool of himself.

Sokka crossed his arms, against the chill, but also against the humiliation threatening to turn his cheeks hot, and the creeping frustration at being useless, as usual. Zuko hadn’t said anything about it since they’d left the town behind, but that was stupid, he should… be mad, at least, because Sokka—

He should be something anyway, but he’d just… left it alone, which was maybe worse. Zuko flicked the bedroll out. It hit the floor with a muted splat, oozing rainwater. Sokka watched him for a moment, unloading the contents of Beaky’s saddlebags bit by bit and laying it all out on the stone floor

“I’m sorry,” Sokka said.

Zuko glanced up at him, brow furrowed.

“For what?” he asked.

“For… what do you mean, for what?” Sokka asked. “He stole—I’m so stupid, I should have—”

Zuko’s eye widened, just a little, and he straightened from where he was crouched over their things, bags forgotten.

“No,” Zuko said firmly. “You were right, it wasn’t worth the risk, picking a fight.” He paused, and then added, awkwardly, like the compliment fit poorly in his mouth, “You have a good head for strategy.”

Sokka scoffed, stomach crawling at the obvious lie. He crossed his arms tighter over his chest. “Yeah. Some strategy. He stole the last of our money, thanks to me.”

Zuko hesitated, just for a second, and then he put a hand on Sokka’s forearm, carefully, like he wasn’t sure if Sokka would push him away. His hand was so warm against Sokka’s skin that it almost startled a noise out of him. He bit his tongue.

“You… trust people. To help you,” Zuko said. “That’s not a bad thing.”

Zuko wasn’t even frowning, just watching him patiently. Sokka didn’t know what to do with that, because Zuko was always angry, even—even when he wasn’t, really, it was just his default, and now that Sokka was angry at himself, suddenly, he’d decided to learn a new emotion, and… and… whatever, he just—

“Fine. Not bad,” Sokka said bitterly. “Just stupid.”

“It’s not,” Zuko said. “It’s… I think it’s good.”

“Yeah, well,” Sokka said. “That’s not really useful for, you know, finding my sister, or helping Aang, or stopping the war. And it’s not like I have a lot to offer, otherwise, so I can’t just make stupid mistakes like that—”

“What are you talking about?” Zuko asked. He looked baffled, like he genuinely didn’t understand.

“I just meant—I’m not a master bender. And Aang’s the Avatar. I’m just a guy—”

“So you’re not a bender,” Zuko said. “That didn’t stop you from embarrassing me in the South Pole. Or escaping, at the resort. You’re clever. Annoyingly resourceful. Being a bender isn’t—I mean, it’s not about power, or being good enough. For most people, I mean, not for—” Zuko made a frustrated noise. Sokka opened his mouth to argue, and Zuko just carried on, louder like that could make him believe him. “You don’t have to be perfect. You’re more than good enough.”

Zuko’s hand was still on Sokka’s arm, and he wondered whether Zuko could feel his pulse thrumming through his skin, a steady beat in the startled quiet. Zuko wasn’t even looking at him, at first, so swept up in the force of his words. He noticed the quiet after a moment and turned, and when he met his eye, he cut himself short, cheeks flush. Abruptly Zuko realized he was still touching him, because he snatched his hand back and flushed deeper. Sokka shivered, cold in its absence, and felt a little thread of disappointment curl in his chest.

Sokka huffed a laugh under his breath, at the flush crawling up Zuko’s neck, and the matching feeling rising in his own chest. He didn’t know why he found it so endearing, how awkward Zuko got, and how frustrated with himself, when at the same time the idea of Sokka criticizing himself sent him into a tirade.

Maybe it stuck out to him because he was used to the scary firebender that used to hunt them, but… Zuko hadn’t been that person in a while, at least to Sokka.

Sokka was just feeling… he didn’t know. Embarrassed, mostly, or flustered, but he didn’t know why. It was just Zuko, and he’d seen Sokka being a lot more pathetic than he’d been tonight.

Zuko frowned self consciously, at the laugh, maybe thinking Sokka was laughing at him.

“I just meant…” Zuko trailed off. Sokka was just standing there, frozen, like an idiot, but he felt like his heart was stuck in his throat.

“It’s about being the thing people need,” Zuko said. “Or something. I’m not… Uncle would say it better.”

Zuko was standing so close. The warmth radiating off him was distracting. Sokka couldn’t get his thoughts straight. He cleared his throat and offered a weak smile.

“Yeah, he definitely would have,” he said, marveling at how normal he’d managed to sound. It wasn’t a particularly good joke, but Zuko seemed relieved by the teasing, anyway, something a little closer to normal. He cleared his throat again. “But… thanks.”

Zuko smiled, hesitant and a little awkward. He gave Sokka’s shoulder a little squeeze, probably meant to be comforting, except that they were both clammy, and damp, and Sokka was still covered in little splatters of mud. Zuko made a face like he regretted it immediately, and then flushed like he’d realized he’d made a face.

Sokka snorted. He fought the way his heart fluttered in his chest when Zuko shot him an annoyed little squint, wiping his hand on his pant leg, because it was kind of cute when he got worked up like that, and—

Wait.

“We should… let me finish unpacking,” Zuko said.

His heart was thumping in his ears as he traced the pink flush creeping up Zuko’s neck with his eyes. The spot on his shoulder was tingling with a phantom heat from Zuko’s palm, and Sokka was sure it wasn’t even close to as warm as the rest of him, which totally didn’t make sense, because… unless...

Oh.

Oh no.

Was he—with Zuko?

At some point during Zuko’s rant, Sokka had just started to think… and it was weirdly endearing, how awkward he got, when he was trying to explain himself… and then the way he…

No. No, stop it.

Zuko said something else, casually over his shoulder, not really paying attention, which was good, because Sokka was pretty sure the look on his face was fixed somewhere between humiliatingly flustered and abject panic. Sokka barely heard what Zuko said. He just grabbed the first bag he could and started emptying it out, trying to force himself to look busy. He glanced at Zuko.

No, don’t.

...He glanced again. There was a bead of water tracking its way down Zuko’s cheek, and Sokka had to hysterically crush the impulse to brush it away. And, oh spirits, when had this happened?

Ugh. A while ago, if he was being honest with himself, and he just… Sokka couldn’t do this right now.

Zuko might have gone from firebender and enemy to Zuko and friend in Sokka’s mind, but that didn’t matter, that didn’t mean… and anyway, Zuko was… he didn’t even know if Zuko…

Zuko shot him a little puzzled look.

And… great, he’d just been sitting there, gaping at him like a fish. Sokka whipped around to stare desperately at his bag, instead.

Now that he’d thought about touching his cheek, Sokka couldn’t stop thinking about it. And he needed to stop, because they were friends, but that was all they were, and Sokka was being stupid.

Sokka shook himself and dragged his shirt over his head. The whole contents of his bag was soaked. He took the shirt over to the entryway to wring it out, until it was just sort of damp and wrinkly. He grimaced and moved to put it back on.

“I can...” Zuko started, and faltered. Sokka glanced at him, but he was staring very intently at the contents of his own bag. He looked about as rumpled as Sokka felt, still dripping, cheeks pink—maybe from the cold and the wind, warming now that they were inside. “I can dry your clothes for you.”

Oh. Right. Sokka glanced around. They were alone, and there were no windows other than the high slatted ones at the tops of the temple walls, so there was no way for anyone to catch him firebending.

“Thanks,” Sokka said. He handed the shirt over.

Zuko gave him a tiny smile, a little crooked, and Sokka’s stomach flipped. He pressed the shirt between his palms. After a second it began to steam, and just as quickly as he’d started, he was shaking the wrinkles out to inspect his work.

Sokka had seen Zuko bend like this before, heating things without fire. He’d even done it that very first night on the raft, when Sokka had been soaked and freezing. The memory was a little fuzzy, but he did remember the heat of his touch, and the wave of warmth washing over him.

“Can you do the rest of me?” Sokka asked. He flushed, embarrassed at Zuko’s startled look. “I mean—”

“Sure,” Zuko said. “No, sure. Of course. Let’s sit?”

He gestured awkwardly to a dry patch of ground, where they hadn’t managed to track mud or rainwater on their entry. Sokka sat down where he pointed him, legs crossed underneath him, and tried to get comfortable on the hard temple stone.

Zuko scooted forward a bit hesitantly, mirroring Sokka’s crossed-legged pose, until their knees were touching. He rested his hands on Sokka’s knees, second guessed himself, and reached forward to cup his palms around Sokka’s forearms instead.

He tilted his head, eyes dropping closed, dark eyelashes ghosting over his cheeks. Sokka was oddly transfixed as Zuko took a slow, measured breath. The lantern light swelled, so that the honey warmed shadows from the firelight washed over them, rhythmic, shrinking and swelling like the tide.

After a moment, when he’d centered himself, or something, counting his breaths in the quiet, Zuko breathed deep one last time and held it there. His eyes slid open, half-lidded, and met Sokka’s. He exhaled, slow, and the heat from his breath washed over him in a wave, and the heat from his hands, too, and his knees where they touched, like Zuko’s whole body was its own flame, radiating warmth. Sokka shivered. The steam hissed off Zuko’s shoulders in a cloud. He breathed again, and it was warmer that time, and Sokka could feel the not-quite-painful prickle of warmth as his own clothes began to dry.

Sokka huffed and leaned forward slightly. The heat was not quite painful, but not comfortable, over the healing skin of his burn. Zuko had confidently declared it healed enough to leave the bandage off to let it breathe only yesterday, and the skin was still sensitive. More than that though, the warmth made him flush, which made him glance up. Suddenly he’d latched onto the way Zuko’s mouth parted as he exhaled, and he couldn’t force himself to tear his eyes away. The noise he made in the back of his throat was just embarrassing, soft and startled but for all the wrong reasons.

Zuko’s hands flinched back like he wanted to withdraw them, and Sokka curled his fingers around his arms to stop him.

“Did I burn you?” Zuko asked.

“No,” Sokka choked out. “Nope, you’re fine.”

Zuko looked skeptical, and Sokka felt the heat coming off him recede just slightly, to a more comfortable temperature. The warmth was nice. Sokka couldn’t tell if it was just the relief of finally being in dry clothes after so long suffering through the rain, or if Zuko’s bending was actually making the whole room warmer, but he wasn’t complaining either way.

“Who needs a fire when I’ve got my own personal heater?” Sokka said. Zuko glared at him half-heartedly.

“Don’t call me that,” he grumbled, but he was stupidly gentle, when he reached out to finish drying their clothes. Sokka wasn’t sure he’d ever get used to it, watching Zuko using his firebending for things like this—careful, controlled, not meant to hurt. It was a stark contrast from the Zuko from earlier, who’d been snarling at a soldier twice his size, ready to draw swords on him. Even then though, as angry as he’d been, Zuko had been so careful pulling Sokka to his feet...

The thought curled in his chest, wistful, like a physical ache: Zuko could be gentle too, if the world let him be.

He’d hate that, if Sokka said it out loud. He’d probably shout and sulk and maybe set something on fire, just to prove a point, so Sokka quietly suppressed a smile, and kept it to himself.

Zuko dried the bedroll next, and their spare clothes. Sokka kicked his soggy boots off and dug around into the bottom of his bag, but all he had left was a handful of waterlogged grape nuts, which got all crumbly and weirdly chalky when they dried, but… he was starving, worn out after walking through the wind and rain, and it was better than nothing.

Zuko had some in his bag, too, but...

“Here,” Sokka said. He passed Zuko a handful. Zuko gave him a puzzled look, when he dumped half into his open palm.

“What’s this for?” Zuko asked. “I have my own, remember?”

Sokka shrugged, in a very casual way that was definitely not at all suspicious. Sharing food was normal. That was a normal thing, and there was nothing weird about it, and it definitely wouldn’t give him away.

(So why was his heart beating so fast?)

“You need to eat more,” Sokka said.

“I’m eating the same things you’re eating,” Zuko said.

“Yeah, well, I need to eat more too,” Sokka said stubbornly. Zuko paused, and tried to press it back into his hand, “No, that’s for you. Just—all that firebending, just take them.”

“I’m fine,” Zuko insisted.

“Well, good. So am I,” Sokka said.

Zuko huffed, exasperated, but he did drop the handful into his mouth. Sokka grinned at the minor victory, and if his heart skipped just a beat when Zuko scoffed and rolled his eyes, that was just for him to know.

The bedroll was still warm from Zuko’s bending when they settled in for sleep. Sokka curled his fingers in the blanket and tucked it up under his chin. The thrum of the rain was muffled against the temple roof, and the sound made even the cavernous room feel small. Tired from the storm and the firebending, Zuko’s breathing evened out quickly, feathering warm puffs of air against his skin.

Sokka closed his eyes and suddenly, irrationally wondered what it would be like to roll over, and look at him in the warm darkness, and maybe memorize the dream soft lines of his face.

Sokka startled awake when he was shoved to the side. He landed in an awkward heap, confused and disoriented, and maybe still half dreaming because what—?

It took him half a moment for his brain to wrap around what woke him. Zuko had thrown the covers back, already half-rising to his feet, scowling at the open temple doors. It was still early enough that the dawn was still feathering blue light on the horizon.

There was a woman standing in the doorway, a severe expression etched into the harsh lines on her face. Sokka’s heart leapt, chasing away the bleariness of sleep. She was dressed in an ornate robe, and what must have been about a million layers of green and gold and brown.

“What do you think you’re doing in here?” she snapped. “This is a sacred place. You have no right to be here.”

Sokka raised his hands in front of him, placating—the gesture both for the woman, and for Zuko, who was still crouched on one knee, and looked very much like he was considering leaning over for his swords.

“We were just trying to get out of the rain, honest,” Sokka said. The excuse made her scowl, like she didn’t believe him.

She must be a priestess. Based on her clothes, and the general grouchiness, Sokka guessed she was probably in charge. At the very least, she acted like it.

“And you just happened to find your way here, of all places,” she said. “Surely you weren’t trying to sneak into the girls’ rooms—”

Sokka flushed, but Zuko just balked.

“We weren’t!” Sokka said, at the same time that Zuko scoffed.

“That’s stupid,” Zuko said. “Who would break into a temple just to see some nuns?”

The priestess frowned.

(Personally, Sokka wouldn’t mind seeing them, since they were apparently worth sneaking in for, but he wasn’t about to say that.)

She gave Zuko a long, thoughtful look, while he scowled at her like he scowled at everyone, and generally did a very bad job at looking apologetic for breaking into her temple in the dead of night. She glanced in Sokka’s direction, and he straightened his back a little, trying to give her a disarming smile.

Her gaze slid down to the bedroll, then, for just a moment. She hummed, and a complicated expression crossed her face before her features softened with understanding.

“...All right then,” she said, after a long pause, and another pointed look at Zuko.

Zuko glanced over at him, but Sokka just shrugged. The priestess stalked further into the room, robes swishing out behind her. She eyed the muddy floors balefully.

“You’ve certainly made a mess of the place,” she said.

It wasn’t… actually that bad. The muddy water they’d tracked in had dried in streaks on the floor overnight, and their belongings were still spread out where Zuko had laid them out to dry. With the face she made, you’d have thought they’d torn the whole building up with earthbending, or set the place on fire. She sniffed, disdainful.

“What are your names?” she asked.

“I’m S—” Sokka began, and Zuko pinched him before he could get the word out. “Ow!”

She gave him an unimpressed look.

“Sao,” Zuko confirmed, stony faced, while she frowned skeptically. Sokka glared at the side of his head, subtly rubbing the sore spot on his arm. “I’m Lee.”

She narrowed her eyes at them, a steely grey that cut through them both with one shrewd look. She eyed them the same way Gran Gran used to when he and Katara had gotten into mischief and done a poor job of hiding it—an odd mix of skepticism and indulgent exasperation.

“Fine,” she said. “Come with me.”

She turned and stalked toward the back of the room without another word. She didn’t bother glancing back, either, perfectly confident that they would follow.

The confidence was a little misplaced on Zuko. Sokka could see him eyeing his bags, and he elbowed him before his stubbornness and his inability to follow directions took over.

“Let’s just see what she wants,” he said. Zuko frowned, and Sokka just shrugged. “Trusting people to help, remember?”

Zuko hesitated, but that had clearly been the right thing to say. He gave Sokka a short look, and then grudgingly climbed to his feet.

“Fine,” Zuko said.

The priestess was halfway down the path by the time they made it outside, and Sokka had to stumble down the stairs two at a time, just to see which building she disappeared into. He peeked into the doorway after her, and was almost immediately met with the woman’s stern face.

She thrust a broom into Sokka’s hand.

“Here, Sao, you should be able to manage this,” she said. Zuko followed after them at a much more sedate pace, and she handed him a mop and bucket with an equal lack of ceremony. He looked at it like he’d never seen one before in his life. “Go clean up the mess you made. Breakfast is in an hour. We don’t appreciate tardiness, here.”

“You got it,” Sokka said, already shoving a bristling Zuko back out the door, before he could shout at her for being rude, or something equally stupid, and get them kicked out before before breakfast. “Thank you!”

“This is stupid,” Zuko said. “We should just leave.”

“What, too good for honest work?” Sokka asked. He led Zuko back up the stairs to the temple hall. It wasn’t… too messy, and most of the mud had dried enough that Sokka could easily start sweeping it into neat piles.

Before he could try, though, Zuko dropped the mop right into the middle of the muddy floor, sloshing water all over.

“Dude!” Sokka said, and Zuko froze. “You’re making a mess!”

“Do you want help or not?” Zuko snapped. Sokka scoffed and rolled his eyes.

“Well, not if you’re going to just make it worse, your highness,” Sokka said. Zuko made an annoyed sound, partly at the title, but mostly at his teasing tone. “You have to wait until I’m done sweeping, or you’ll just spread the dirt around.”

Zuko scowled, and dropped the mop handle where he was standing.

“You suck at this,” Sokka added gleefully.

“I already said this was stupid,” Zuko said. “We should be moving on, not cleaning the floors—”

“Dude, relax,” Sokka said. “It’s not a big deal. It’s just some mud.”

“Well, it’s still stupid,” Zuko insisted, defensively. He kicked the mop handle, which made Sokka laugh, which made Zuko glare.

“You know, no one expects you to know everything. It’s not like you’d get much practice mopping as a prince,” Sokka said. “Although Lee is going to have to learn. Why don’t you… pick up our stuff, so I can finish sweeping?”

Zuko squinted at him, but grudgingly crouched down to roll up their bedroll.

“...I still think we should just go,” Zuko said.

“Well, we can’t just trash the place and run like you did with the other nuns,” Sokka teased. Also, breakfast. Zuko sent him a withering look.

“That was just as much the Avatar’s fault as it was mine,” Zuko said. “And you didn’t stick around to clean up, either.”

“Uh, no, we owed those nuns. They’d just helped Bato,” Sokka said. “So we would have stayed to help, if we weren’t being chased by a certain angry prince.”

“...who’s Bato?” Zuko asked.

“Ah, I guess he’d already left by the time you showed up. He’s like... Well, he’s kind of like family, I guess. He’s my dad’s best friend,” Sokka said. “You know, it's funny. You tied Katara to a tree, you attacked the nuns that had just helped Bato, and when you attacked our village…” Zuko huffed, but Sokka just grinned at him, “the elder you were getting grabby with was my Gran Gran.”

“I didn’t know!” Zuko said.

“Well, sure,” Sokka said, “but you’ve made a pretty terrible first impression with most of my family. You’re gonna have to try harder, if you ever meet my dad.”

“Why would I ever meet your father?” Zuko asked.

Sokka shrugged.

“I don’t know. Because we’re friends?” Sokka said. “And my dad is the best, so. Who knows? It might come up. Anyway he’s your last shot at a good first impression, unless we’ve picked up any new family members since the North Pole.”

For a moment Zuko didn’t answer, and the quiet stretched a beat too long. When Sokka glanced up from sweeping, Zuko was already looking at him, a puzzled expression on his face. Sokka raised an eyebrow—what? Was it something Sokka said?—and that was enough to get Zuko to glance away, frowning at their bags.

After another stretch of quiet, with just the rasp of Sokka’s broom against the ground, Zuko cleared his throat.

“Are we friends?” Zuko asked. Sokka blinked at him.

Oh.

“I guess… well, yeah,” he said. He shrugged, feeling strangely self-conscious. “Yeah, I think so.”

Zuko hesitated. Then he nodded, just the barest twitch of his chin, maybe just to himself, and turned his attention back to the floor.

The priestess returned a few minutes later to stare, entirely unamused, at their attempt to clean up.

(Sokka wasn’t really sure what she was glaring at. He thought they’d mostly done a good job sweeping and mopping up the mess. It… maybe it was a little streaky, but in general, it was a floor, right? People walked on it with their dirty feet. Who cared if it wasn’t polished to a shine?)

Eventually she sighed and gestured for them to follow her, this time down a narrow corridor leading around toward the back of the temple. Sokka eyed the hallway with interest.

There was a mural of the temple courtyard painted on the wall. It was well maintained, despite the patches of fading color dotted down the hallway, spaced where the sunlight through the windows had slowly bleached the walls over time. The courtyard was much more lively in the painting than it was in reality, beneath the orange and gold canopy of an autumn afternoon, filled with women painted in a similar dress to the priestess, who he had to assume were the nuns she’d mentioned, and splashes of yellow and orange leaves dancing on the wind—

Sokka stopped, because… no, he was pretty sure that the badly faded streak of orange in the sky wasn’t just a leaf fluttering in the wind. He stared at the spot where the paint, cracked and faded in the sun, met the brighter pigments of the shaded temple grounds.

“Are those air nomads?” Sokka asked.

She glanced back at him.

“They are,” she said. The priestess eyed the faded painting for a moment, and then turned to carry on down the hall. “This was… well. The world was once a much smaller place.”

Zuko frowned just slightly, almost puzzled, and turned to reconsider the painting.

Sokka hummed. It was beautiful. He was sure it had been even more beautiful, once, before the details had started to fade. There were probably things like this all over, little traces of the air nomads scattered across the world like footprints in the snow. Fading, slowly.

He wished Aang was here. He would have liked to see this.

Maybe he could draw him a nice picture, to show him, or… or maybe when this was all over, he could come back, and Aang could see it for himself.

The priestess hadn’t stopped, footsteps now echoing down the hall ahead of them. Sokka hurried to follow her. He glanced back after a few steps.

Zuko was still studying the mural, his mouth pressed into a thin line. Sokka wondered what he was thinking, whether he was thinking about Aang again, or… maybe he was thinking about someone else, the child with the glider, or the monk folded peacefully on the same temple stairs they’d trudged up last night.

After a moment he reached out, as though to trace a thumb against the faded edge of the air nomad’s robe.

“It’s nice, right?” Sokka asked.

He snatched his hand back, gaze darting away from the mural.

“It’s just a stupid painting,” Zuko said, as he brushed past him down the hall.

It was still raining, lighter than the night before but enough that Sokka was grateful that he hadn’t gone along with Zuko’s suggestion to pack their things and run, chores be damned.

He was feeling even better about that decision when the smell of real meat cooking, and eggs and rice, led them straight to a small hall lined with low tables. The priestess gave them a short look, and then abandoned them at the entrance to the dining room. Sokka grabbed the first empty cushion he found, ignoring the interested looks of a few of the other residents, most of them men and women Gran Gran’s age or even older—hardly the girls the priestess had seemed so concerned about, so maybe they stuck to themselves.

Zuko hovered in the doorway. Sokka kicked out the cushion beside him and shot him an exasperated look until he finally, grudgingly, sat down.

They learned that the spirit they honored here was a protective one. Apparently other spirits, unnamed ones, or at least spirits minor enough that their names weren’t known to humans, and spirits with ridiculous names like Father Glowworm—whom the nuns insisted he would like to never meet, especially if he brought that amount of disrespect to the meeting—were liable to carry people off into these mountains.

He also learned that none of these people knew anything about where the Avatar was, except that apparently he had returned, although some of them were still skeptical on that point. Sokka had ended up beating around the question for a few moments before just asking, since asking after the Avatar wasn’t that strange when you were talking about unquiet spirits, but it hadn’t mattered. Aang hadn’t been here, and even their puzzled promise to mention him if the Avatar ever did visit wasn’t enough to soothe his disappointment.

It wasn’t a complete waste, though. They got a warm meal, and by the time he was pushing his empty bowl aside the rain had slowed to almost nothing, the sun peeking out from behind the cloud cover, so at least they’d gotten a place to wait out the storm. They’d even gotten a few supplies, from an over-enthusiastic old woman who had listened to Sokka’s abridged story of their run-in with the Earth Kingdom army last night with a deep-set scowl, and then insisted that it would be against their philosophy to send two children into the world with nothing. Both he and Zuko bristled at that label, but Sokka at least had been too polite to protest.

Anyway, he was definitely not going to look a gift ostrich horse in the mouth, particularly when their ostrich horse had already seen their humble offerings, and was quite eager to replace her grazing and lizard-snatching with the prospect of fresh sun oats.

They packed to leave in a mostly-comfortable quiet.

Well, Sokka let Zuko do most of the packing, refolding their now-dry clothes and bedding to fit in their bags, since he was so snippy about Sokka touching his stuff anyway. Sokka sorted through the meagre supplies they’d had before, checking that nothing had been ruined too badly by the rain, and taking stock of the fresh food they’d been given.

Zuko had been kind of quiet since breakfast, but not grumpy-quiet, like he would be if he was annoyed with Sokka and wanted to leave. It was more of a thoughtful sort of quiet, which had lingered ever since they passed through the hall. Maybe what the priestess had said to him had gotten through that thick skull of his.

Maybe that was wishful thinking, but then again...

Zuko had done a lot of bad things to them in the past. He’d also saved Sokka from drowning, helped him when he was hurt, and he’d been ready to fight that Earth Kingdom soldier, just for a few coins, just because he’d stolen from Sokka, even though Zuko would be way worse off than Sokka if he had been recognized.

Maybe Zuko was right, and he did trust easily. Maybe too easily, but...

Somewhere along the road, Sokka had started to believe what Iroh had told him, that there was good inside Zuko.

Even if Zuko didn’t always act like it.

He certainly liked to pretend that pesky details like ‘being a good person’ didn’t matter to him, when, clearly, it did—

But they were just friends, so maybe it wasn’t his place to push. Sokka wasn’t about to ruin all the hard work they’d both put into upgrading from constantly fighting to mostly friendly bickering by bringing up something he was absolutely positive Zuko would not take well.

Not to mention that they had different goals, so they were going to go their separate ways eventually. He wouldn’t be Zuko’s problem anymore, and Zuko wouldn’t be his, and that was fine. Right? It was fine. Sokka needed to find Aang and Katara, and Zuko… Sokka didn’t know what Zuko was going to do, but...

It was fine, but maybe...

Sokka trusted Zuko. He needed to decide how far that trust went. Aang was such a good kid that Sokka was sure he’d give Zuko a chance, if Sokka asked him to, and… Aang still needed a firebending teacher… and maybe Zuko could come with them, if he would just pick the good side, for once...

(Well. It was a nice thought.

And also maybe had some other bonuses, not that it mattered, considering that Sokka was not doing this).

Zuko picked his swords up from where he’d propped them against their bags. He looped them through his belt in one smooth motion, and Sokka definitely only stared at the way his shoulders flexed with the motion a normal and harmless and totally not suspicious amount.

Zuko glanced at him, anyway, and caught him looking, which just made Sokka blush a maybe, not… totally not suspicious amount, damn it—

“What?” Zuko asked hesitantly, while Sokka scrambled for an excuse. The whole ‘Zuko’s potential for goodness’ problem wasn’t much better than the ‘Zuko’s stupid muscly arms’ problem, so he cast around for a better reason for looking, and latched onto the first thing that popped into his mind.

“Are you any good with those?” Sokka asked, gesturing vaguely at the swords on Zuko’s hip.

“Yes,” he said, almost defensive, hand curled stubbornly around the hilt. He made a face, like he couldn’t understand why Sokka was asking. Sokka nodded and turned to finish burying the sun oats at the very bottom of the bag, where Beaky couldn’t reach them, because she was a horrible little bird and would absolutely sneak extra food in the middle of the night if they didn’t watch her. His fingers fidgeted on the drawstring. He rubbed the back of his neck.

“Can you teach me?” Sokka asked. Zuko blinked, caught off guard, but his dumb pinched-stubborn face relaxed a bit.

“What?” he asked.

“How to use a sword,” Sokka clarified. “I just—I don’t have my boomerang anymore, and…”

And last night could have gone a lot worse, if that soldier had gotten violent. Zuko would have been all on his own, because all Sokka had was a little knife, and no bending, and that would be worthless against an earthbender, or anyone with a real weapon.

Zuko stood for a moment, fingers curling around the strap of his bag, considering. He looked reluctant, or maybe Sokka wasn’t reading him right, and there was something else there...

Either way, it passed quickly. Zuko slid the strap of his bag over his shoulder and smoothed the flap down firmly. Then he stooped to pick up the bundled tarp.

“I can show you,” Zuko said, “but we should… we’re already getting a late start.”

“Oh. Sure,” Sokka said.

With how annoyed she’d been by them just sleeping on the temple floor, Sokka was pretty sure the priestess would drag them out by their ears if they tried a little swordfighting, anyway. Sokka shot Zuko a little smile at the image, and was almost startled when he got one back.

Traveling by land instead of air was excruciatingly slow. Sokka tracked days as much as he did the slow crawl of the landscape around them. On Appa, Sokka could lie down for a nap and wake up to a completely new view, but here they could travel for days and the most Sokka had to show for it was the dubious certainty that that distant mountain looked, kind of, maybe, a little bigger than it had before.

The river thinned until it barely reached the top of his ankles at its deepest point, much too shallow for anything larger than a few minnow guppies lurking in the mud. Sokka was pretty sure he hadn’t seen a real, sizable fish in days. Even the brief swell of the river from the storm had washed out quickly, and left very little behind but mud and felled branches to dam the stream. The food they’d been given at the temple hadn’t lasted them long.

The trees were picked bare in patches along the main road. Sokka wasn’t from around here. He didn’t know the native plants as well as the Earth Kingdom refugees fleeing from the war, and the slim pickings left behind were really putting Sokka’s foraging skills to the test.

(Zuko was even more hopeless, but at least he never complained, or made Sokka feel guilty for coming back empty handed.)

Even here, out of the way of the main trade road, the river was cloudy with silt from the eroding banks. He could see the evidence of hundreds of feet walking before them, wearing the grass down to dusty patches, with nothing but downtrodden, browning fields of wild grasses stretching for miles in every direction.

He was hungry, was the point. He could feel Zuko’s stomach rumbling, too, beneath the arm looped around his waist. He was a lot less loud about it, which Sokka was fairly certain was more out of stubbornness than anything. What was it Iroh had said, back on the raft? Fasting and meditation? Sokka could use a little meditation right about now; he already had the fasting part down.

Sokka sighed and pressed his cheek against Zuko’s shoulder.

“I’m so tired,” Sokka whined.

“All you’re doing is sitting,” Zuko said. Sokka couldn’t see his face, but his voice sounded like he was smiling. Maybe he was hallucinating, too. Hah. “How can you be tired?”

“Sitting is hard work,” Sokka said. He thumped his head against the spot between Zuko’s shoulder blades, just to be annoying, and leaned into him until Zuko rolled his shoulder to push him off.

“You’re ridiculous,” Zuko said. “You’ve spent the last few months travelling by sky bison. How is this any worse?”

“Well for one thing,” Sokka said. “When we were flying on Appa, I had Aang and Katara to entertain me.”

Zuko was quiet for a moment. “I can be—”

“You could,” Sokka interrupted him, with a playful nudge to his shoulder, “if you lightened up, some. I mean, spirits, what were you doing to pass time time while you were hunting us?”

“Well,” Zuko said, and then made no attempt to fill in the blank.

“Besides yelling at people,” Sokka clarified, “and burning down villages… harassing nuns…”

Zuko cringed. “I—sorry,” he said, awkwardly.

Sokka blinked at him for a moment, processing. He laughed.

“Really?” he asked. “Well… good. Probably should have saved the apology for the nuns, though.”

“Probably,” Zuko said grudgingly.

“Well?” Sokka asked, after a long moment of brooding silence.

“Well, what?” Zuko asked.

“What did you do to pass the time?” Sokka repeated.

“Oh,” Zuko said. “Uncle always tried to get me to participate in music nights, and play pai sho.” He grimaced at the thought. “And… reading. History books, and… some plays—”

Sokka gasped.

“You had read that dumb romance!” he crowed.

“It’s not dumb,” Zuko said immediately. He flushed, and added, “and it’s a political drama. The romance is just a subplot.”

“Will you tell it to me?” Sokka asked.

“Will it make you stop talking?” Zuko asked.

“Mhm,” Sokka hummed, all too pleased with himself, and entirely undeterred by Zuko’s reluctant grumpiness.

He’d never thought about how massive the Earth Kingdom was. He’d looked at it on a map, sure, and he’d seen plenty as they passed through on their way to the North Pole. But flying over on Appa really didn’t do it justice.

They had been traveling for days, and they were still on the same dusty road, with the same brown, grassy fields to their left, and the same pathetic little river basin to their right, dried and cracking, boasting a few stubborn weeds and nothing else. He knew better than to tempt the spirits by saying he missed the rain, but that didn’t make the sun any less brutal over their heads.

Sokka’s forehead was pressed lightly against Zuko’s shoulder. He was exhausted, and thirsty. The heat hadn’t bothered him earlier, it wasn’t even that hot, but as the sun climbed steadily higher in the sky it was becoming all that Sokka could think about. At least he wasn’t wearing his heavy clothes from the North Pole, but his Earth Kingdom tunic was scratchy compared to his furs, and much less comfortable to wear even if it was more appropriate for the weather.

He wished he had his own warm weather clothes, but those were still stored in Appa’s saddle bags. They were if they’d held onto them, anyway. Maybe… he guessed Aang and Katara could have gotten rid of them by now, to make space for supplies, thinking they wouldn’t need them anymore…

Hm. That line of thinking was going to make him sad, so Sokka firmly shoved it from his mind. He blinked, then, and realized that they’d stopped moving.

Sokka lifted his head from Zuko’s shoulder.

“Why are we…?” he started to ask, but Zuko shushed him.

He followed Zuko’s gaze down the slope, toward the edge of the riverbank. There was a couple there, seated near a little fire dug out into a pit in the dried clay. They hadn’t noticed them, the woman leaning back against a tree to rest, her husband crouched beside her, clearly distracted by their conversation. Sokka’s stomach growled just looking at them, with their little cook pot simmering over the flame. His throat felt impossibly dry, and he tried to swallow to sooth it.

Zuko huffed a quiet sigh and flicked the reins to carry on down the road.

“Hey, wait, why are we leaving?” Sokka asked. He grabbed a fistful of the back of Zuko’s robe and tugged. Sokka glanced between Zuko and the couple quickly, like they might disappear if he looked away too long. They were the first people they’d seen on this road in days. They could at least stop to talk to them first!

Zuko made a frustrated sound and stopped Beaky again. “We can’t—”

Zuko turned to look at him over his shoulder, an odd sort of stubbornness flickering over his face.

“We shouldn’t. And—she’s pregnant,” Zuko said plainly, like that explained anything.

“Okay, and…?” Sokka prompted.

“We can’t rob a pregnant lady—”

“Rob them?” Sokka shouted. Zuko shushed him insistently, and glanced down the slope as Sokka barreled on, “Dude, who said anything about robbing them?”

Despite the noise, the couple still hadn’t noticed them yet. Zuko sagged a little in relief and then turned back to stubbornly glare at him.

“Keep your voice down,” Zuko whisper-shouted. “Why are you yelling at me? I said we’re not robbing them. Let’s just move on.”

“Zuko, did it ever occur to you that maybe we could just ask them if they have enough to share?” Sokka asked.

Zuko fixed him with a look that very clearly said he had not, even remotely, considered that. Sokka sighed. He patted Zuko lightly on the shoulder, then slid down off Beaky’s back before Zuko could grab for him.

“Let’s just ask,” he said, overtop the frustrated noises Zuko was making at him. “What’s the harm in asking?”

Sokka turned to pick his way carefully down the slope. His boot caught on the gravel settled at the top, sending it skittering down toward the couple, and the sound of it finally caught their attention. They both tensed and turned toward him, and Sokka quickly offered them a friendly wave. He didn’t want them to get the wrong idea—particularly because, Sokka suspected, Zuko was probably still glowering imperiously from the top of the slope with his swords hanging from his hip like some kind of rogue wanderer. They relaxed slightly when Sokka smiled, and the woman waved back.

Sokka mostly managed not to kick a bunch of loose dirt and gravel all over their nice campsite as he picked his way down. The man gestured for him to join them as soon as he’d reached the bottom. There was a clay pot stew settled into the hot coals at the edge of their campfire, simmering merrily. It smelled amazing, even if it looked like something Aang might have liked, rather than the hearty, meat-filled dinners Sokka would have preferred. He doubted they had much choice, out here. The hunting had only gotten harder, the further inland they went.

“Would your friend like to join us?” the woman asked gently. “We’re happy to share what we have.”

“Sorry,” Sokka said, glancing back up at him. “You’re the first people we’ve run into in a while.”

That made it sound like Zuko was shy, instead of just prickly and asocial, but she smiled in understanding and nodded anyway. Zuko was still standing at the top of the embankment, clearly reluctant, but he’d slid down from Beaky’s back while Sokka was climbing down toward the camp. Eventually Beaky made the decision for him, nudging him slightly, tugging him down the dry, grassy slope. Her claws kicked up a little cloud of dust as she scrabbled for purchase, and the man leaned forward to slide the lid over the top of their cooking pot to keep the grit out of their food.

“I’m—” Oh, wait, he wasn’t supposed to use his real name, “I’m Lee,” Sokka said quickly, before Zuko even had a chance to sit down.

Zuko glared at him. Sokka just grinned. Neither of them seemed to notice.

“I’m Ying,” the woman said. She gestured to her husband. “This is Than.”

They looked expectantly at Zuko. He looked very briefly panicked, blink and you miss it.

“I’m—also Than,” Zuko said, and Sokka almost burst out laughing. He bit his cheek, trying to get control of his face while Zuko glared at him. Could firebenders start fires with just a look? Zuko certainly seemed like he was trying, and he had better not, if he wanted these people to talk to them.

“Oh, how cute!” Ying said, nudging her husband’s shoulder. “What a fun coincidence.”

“That is fun,” Sokka said. Zuko pinched him.

Ying dished a little stew into a bowl for Zuko, and for lack of anything better, into a cup for Sokka. He wasn’t going to complain, though. The smell had already woken his stomach up, and it was a few impatient seconds of blowing on it before he gave into risking burning his tongue.

For a moment it looked like Zuko was going to be stubborn, the way he had been when Song had offered to feed them. But then he glanced at Sokka, and finally down at his food. Ying smiled, clearly pleased, as they ate.

“We didn’t expect to run into anyone out here,” Than said. “Not for a few days, at least. This area’s pretty remote.”

There was a question in the way he said it, which Zuko was clearly going to ignore. Sokka plucked a piece of egg shroom out of his stew.

“We’ve been on the road for a while,” Sokka said. “We came all the way from the coast.”

“All alone?” she asked.

Sokka glanced at Zuko. “We… were traveling with—uh, Than’s uncle, for a while,” he said.

“And he’s…?”

“Better off, now,” Zuko said stubbornly.

Sokka almost choked. Than and Ying’s faces both fell—obviously, because better off made it sound like his uncle had died, not like they’d left him behind in a cave full of food and valuables, with two fewer mouths to worry about feeding. Sokka wanted to smack him, or maybe just laugh, because Zuko was terrible at talking to people.

Ying touched Zuko’s arm, gently.

“I’m so sorry,” she said.

“It’s… fine,” Zuko said, clearly uncertain. He dared a confused little glance at Sokka, who took the opportunity to rescue Zuko from his horrible social skills.

“Anyway,” Sokka said. “We’re headed east, now.”

“Oh, so are we. We’re going to Ba Sing Se,” Ying said. She glanced at her husband, and the two of them shared a quiet look. Her husband’s eyes softened at her expression. She turned back to them with an earnest determination they absolutely did not deserve. “You boys could come with us?”

“No,” Zuko said, immediately. Sokka elbowed him, and he added, “but thank you... for the offer?”

“We’re actually fine traveling on our own,” Sokka said, “but if you know anywhere that we can stop for supplies...”

Hopefully they wouldn’t suggest the town that they’d passed during the storm. They didn’t have any money, and the reminder of why still left a bitter taste in his mouth, but they’d just have to find a way to earn more when they got there. There wasn’t anywhere else nearby that was large enough to make it onto Zuko’s map, but the temple hadn’t been on the map, either, so there might be somewhere they could go.

Ying looked thoughtful.

“Well, we don’t know the area well,” Ying said, “but we saw smoke coming from that direction, so there must be a town that way.”

He followed the line of her finger further up the road. He could just see the smudge of a path marking its way up the slope there, winding to higher elevations away from the dry grass field. He couldn’t see the smoke now, but he was willing to take their word for it.

“It’s a shorter trip, if you cut through the mountains, but Ying and I were going to go around. She’s not really up for climbing, right now,” Than said. “Are you sure you two don’t want to—?”

“We don’t mind a little rough terrain,” Zuko said, before Sokka could say anything. Than looked a little bit like he was going to try to convince him, because he hadn’t been exposed to Zuko’s particular brand of stubborn, and didn’t know that it was a lost cause, yet. Zuko wasn’t exactly wrong, anyway. It would probably be safer to travel alone, both to leave less of a footprint behind them for Azula to follow, and to minimize the risk of someone figuring out who Zuko was. Sokka caught Ying’s eye and shrugged, a little helplessly.

It was nice talking to other people, not that Zuko wasn’t actually becoming pretty good company, as much as he liked to pretend that Sokka’s constant attempts at conversation annoyed him. Zuko had heard most of Sokka’s good stories, though—he was the bad guy in most of Sokka’s really good stories—so it was still fun to sit and chat and share a meal with someone who would appreciate them. Zuko tolerated it for exactly as long as it took Sokka to scrape the bottom of his makeshift bowl.

Then he nudged them back toward the road, insisting there was still time before nightfall that he didn’t want to waste, no matter how many times Than suggested they could make camp with them for the night.

(Sokka thought, probably, he just didn’t want to sit through another story of Sokka describing Aang throwing him through a building while creatively working around the Avatar and Fire Prince details.)

Still, even though it had been Zuko insisting they leave in a hurry, he was becoming less and less enthusiastic the further they travelled, and Sokka didn’t really get why. Yeah, the road Ying had pointed them toward was a little run down, but they were literally chasing smoke, so it wasn’t like Sokka had been expecting a royal welcome—

“This road doesn’t seem very well traveled,” Zuko said. As though to make his point, a little piece of stone cracked and shattered against the ground, adding to the detritus already cluttering the unswept path ahead.

“So?” Sokka asked. “Ying said there was another road that went around the mountains. People are probably taking that one, so they don’t have to make the climb.”

“But if there’s a town this way, don’t you think they’d use their own road?” Zuko asked.

“Well, maybe it’s not a very big town,” Sokka said. Zuko frowned.

“I don’t like this,” he said.

Sokka leaned forward and hooked his arm over Zuko’s shoulder. The path ahead seemed like a normal path, really. Downtrodden, a bit dusty, but no different than the last few days’ worth of road they’d left behind them, other than the fact that the road had been growing steadily steeper and the area more mountainous, if no less uninhabited, as they traveled. Sokka tilted his head to raise an eyebrow at Zuko.

“You don’t like anything,” he reminded him. “Do you think you could narrow it down to why?”

Zuko shushed him. Sokka made an indignant noise, but obediently stopped talking.

A shadow flickered in the trees. Sokka saw it at the same time Zuko tensed, and swore. The ground split, and for a moment Sokka’s mind screamed rockslide—but the ground was surging upward, not crumbling away, rising in jagged spires behind them, cutting off their escape. He saw the eel hound first, and then the men behind it as they emerged from where they’d been lying in ambush.

Beaky reared back as the eel hound snapped at them, not lunging, but like she was trying to keep the ostrich horse in line. Zuko’s hand flew back behind him, curling around Sokka’s robe just in time to keep Beaky from throwing him off entirely. He yanked on the reigns and she staggered. As soon as she’d steadied Sokka slid off her back, so quickly that his stiff knees ached with the impact.

Sokka whirled, but the men were behind them, too—a quick count, a half dozen more. He took a half-step toward Zuko, and his back bumped lightly against his shoulder. They were way outnumbered, with at least a dozen men, and all of them benders, if their stances were any indication. Zuko seemed to realize it too, because he could feel the tension in his shoulders rising, tightening like a coiled spring. Sokka reached behind him and touched Zuko’s wrist, lightly, trying to convey wait to draw your swords, see what they want.

His first thought was that these men looked like soldiers, not criminals, but the only Earth Kingdom soldiers they’d seen had been in the town behind them, during the storm.

Had they followed them? Maybe the man from the gatehouse had told someone about them. Maybe they’d recognized Zuko’s description after all.

Except… Sokka didn’t think that was it. The men were all wearing Earth Kingdom army uniforms, but they looked off, disheveled and unpressed, like they’d been on the road for a long time, not like they’d just come from being comfortably quartered in a walled village.

Sokka met the gaze of the man at the front of the group.

“We don’t want any trouble,” Sokka said.

“That’s good. Let’s all try not to cause any trouble,” he said, and then jerked his head toward one of the other soldiers, further up the road. “Follow him.”

Sokka hesitated, just for a moment.

“Zuko?” Sokka whispered, low enough that only he could hear.

“I think we should do what they say,” he said, reluctantly, like resisting the urge to pick a fight with a dozen benders was physically painful to him. He added, “For now.”

Chapter Text

The smoke was not from a town.

Sokka darted a quick glance at Zuko. His mouth was pressed into a thin line, tensely watching the camp rising up over the edge of the sloped path.

Yeah, this was bad.

Beaky seemed to sense their nervousness, because she dug her claws in reluctantly as they approached. Zuko buried his fingers in the feathers on her neck and shushed her. One of the soldiers stepped forward to take her reins, and for a moment Zuko seriously looked like he was weighing his odds—and then he uncurled his fingers, reluctantly, scowling so fiercely that the man almost looked guilty for taking her.

An Earth Kingdom camp was a lot more solid than anything the Southern Water Tribe would have used. There were rooted, stone shelters interspersed among the tents, not the sort of thing they could strike easily and move without skilled benders to tear them down again. Sokka counted rooftops with a sinking sort of dread. He could see now where the smoke was coming from, wafting hickory-ash sweet from an earthen mess hall at the center of the camp.

There was a training ground on the other side of the camp, with some men practicing earthbending, and some men running their forms dry. Here, though, it was strangely quiet, shelters closed off, the atmosphere tense. There was a man sitting on the ground outside one of the larger stone buildings, leaning against the wall. He looked tired, his arm in a sling, the faint pink sheen of a burn peeking over the edge of a bandage on his bare shoulder. He watched them pass with only placid interest, and then shifted back to absently staring into the trees cascading down the mountainside.

They needed to get out of here. The question was how. There were way too many of them to fight, but maybe if they could slip away—

Well, they’d need to get Beaky back, first. And then the route down the mountain was a fairly straight shot, but if they tried to go off the road—

Well, the terrain looked rough, but maybe—

And they had earthbenders, which was an even worse complication considering the general rocky nature of, basically, everything—

Sokka wasn’t loving their odds. They’d separated them slightly while they walked, with two men between them who kept their gazes stonily on the road ahead. Zuko was on edge, as though something terrible was going to happen to Sokka now that he was a couple feet further away. Sokka was also nervous, but for a different—and in his opinion, much more sensible—reason, the worry that Zuko was going to do something stupid and impulsive if Sokka wasn’t there to stop him.

Zuko had obviously noticed the strange tension hanging in the air. He was raking his gaze over the men like they were a puzzle he couldn’t quite work out. Sokka kind of had to agree. The camp seemed… off, somehow, definitely not the strict military efficiency he’d have expected from the Earth Kingdom.

The man at the front of the group stopped in the middle of the empty ground and turned to consider them.

“Either of you boys a bender?” he asked.

Zuko and Sokka exchanged a glance.

“No,” Sokka said.

“Good,” he said.

He planted his foot and pulled a stone wall up behind them.

“You just sit tight. I’ll be right back,” he said easily. “You can talk to Sensu, and then I’m sure you’ll be on your way.”

He stepped back and the wall closed off between them. Zuko pressed against the spot where the opening had been, then shifted and threw his weight against it. He cursed. The other wall was no better. His chest heaved as he spun back around. He made a frustrated sound and moved over to the other side, sliding his hands along the rough stone, looking for a seam.

“Woah, Zuko, relax,” Sokka said. He tried to lay a hand on Zuko’s shoulder, but he just shook him off roughly.

“How are you so calm? You’re a prisoner again,” Zuko snapped.

Sokka wasn’t calm, not really, but seeing Zuko getting all angry and agitated made it a little easier to reign it in. He took a breath.

“We’re not prisoners,” Sokka said.

“Then where’s the door?” Zuko demanded, and... yeah, fair point.

“Okay, maybe technically,” he said. “But it’ll be fine. They’re suspicious, but I think if they’d recognized you, they would have said something by now. They probably just want to know what we’re doing out here. Once we explain, I’m sure they’ll let us go.”

Zuko continued to give him a flat, unimpressed look, so Sokka pressed on.

“Anyway, I’m great at this, so just follow my lead. This actually isn’t the first time I’ve been arrested and locked inside a doorless earth prison.” He put his hands on his hips and surveyed their tiny, featureless cell. “The other guy gave us all beds, though.”

“How’d you get out last time?” Zuko asked.

“Oh, we didn’t,” Sokka said. “Eventually they came to get us. Katara and I almost suffocated under this creeping crystal stuff, and—ah.” He trailed off at the look on Zuko’s face. “But that won’t happen here! I mean, what are the odds?”

“Okay, stand back,” Zuko said. He shifted into a bending stance.

“Wait!” Sokka shouted.

Sokka caught Zuko’s arm at the elbow and yanked him back, upsetting his footing. Zuko glared and tried to shake him off.

“They’re just being cautious,” Sokka said. “He said he was getting his commander and...” Zuko made a frustrated noise, “and if you keep acting like a caged tigerdillo they’re going to start wondering if you have something to hide.”

Zuko continued to glare at him, but he did uncurl his fists. Sokka patted him lightly on the arm, and then after another long pause, just to make sure it wasn’t about to get toasty in here after all, he let him go.

Sokka heaved a sigh and slid down the wall. He patted the ground next to him, and then again more insistently when Zuko scowled at the spot like it was going to burn him. Very, very reluctantly, he sat down, too.

Zuko glared at the wall like he might be able to melt a hole in it with his eyes. Sokka was, at this point, confident he couldn’t, considering how many of those glares he’d been on the receiving end of. He was wound up so tightly that Sokka was sure he was about to fly apart, with his arms crossed and his fingers digging white-knuckled into his elbows.

“So, what?” Zuko asked. “We’re just supposed to sit here and wait for them to come for us?”

Sokka shrugged and tipped his head to look at him. Zuko’s expression was tight and closed off, frustrated with the situation, and beneath that, the sort of pinchy scowl he always wore when he was nervous and trying not to show it. Sokka patted his knee, then felt weird about it and pulled his hand back into his lap.

“Well. I suppose I do have one thing we could do,” Sokka said.

“What is it?” Zuko asked, leaning forward, a little of that tension bleeding into eagerness.

Sokka tapped his chin. He was quiet for a moment.

“We could play a string game,” Sokka said.

Zuko shoved him, and Sokka laughed.

Zuko leapt to his feet at the first hint of stone grinding on stone. Sokka was… less quick, as the wall he’d been leaning on suddenly retracted into the ground. He yelped and was only kind of graceless, trying to catch himself before he brained himself on a rock.

From where he was laying on the ground, he was looking up at another Earth Kingdom soldier. He was wearing the same drab uniform as the rest, and he looked way too young to be commanding anything, but the other earthbender was looking at him expectantly, like he was waiting for his judgement.

The commander—Sensu, they’d said—smiled and offered Sokka a hand up.

“Ah, sorry about that,” he said.

Sokka hesitated just a moment before taking his hand. Zuko was back to his usual, charming self, glaring daggers at the both of them, and even more so when he pulled Sokka up to his feet.

“It’s… fine,” Sokka said at length, dusting himself off.

“We found them sneaking around outside the base,” the other soldier said.

“We weren’t sneaking anywhere,” Zuko said.

“Well, what else would you be doing—?”

“All right, all right,” Sensu said. “That’s enough of that. I mean, look at them, Tai. I highly doubt they’re…”

He trailed off before he could say what he suspected they were or weren’t. The other man didn’t look particularly reassured. He looked almost as nervous as Sokka felt, which was odd, considering they were the ones doing the capturing, here.

“I’ll talk to them,” Sensu said. Tai nodded, taking that was the dismissal that it was.

Then he turned back to them with the same sort of chagrined smile as before. It almost reminded him of Iroh, pleasant and a little long suffering. Sensu crossed his arms and considered them both, letting the silence hang between them a moment longer. Then he nodded to himself and clapped Sokka on the back, hard enough that he stumbled forward a step.

“All right, this way,” he said, hooking his thumb toward the center of the camp.

Zuko eyed the buildings warily, like he half-expected more soldiers to spring out of them like trapdoor spider-snakes. In reality, there were only a handful of people in sight, and most of them seemed much too preoccupied to spare them more than a glance.

“What’s your name, kid?” Sensu asked.

“Lee,” Zuko said quickly, before Sokka could get to it. Sokka squinted at him, and he just barely caught the flash of a smug look shot his way before he turned back to Sensu.

Sensu didn’t notice the look, but he brightened at the name.

“That’s my little brother’s name,” Sensu said. Zuko didn’t react to that other than to huff and turn another glare on him, squinty-suspicious, this time. If it bothered Sensu, he didn’t show it. He tilted his head in Sokka’s direction. “What about you? You got a name?”

Ah, spirits, what was his name? Not Sao, that was for sure, how about...

“...Wang?” Sokka tried.

Sensu made kind of a weird face, like that was a strange pick, but how was Sokka supposed to know? The Earth Kingdom had all kinds of weird names—

Zuko was looking at him like he’d just bit into a pomelo lemon.

Sensu only seemed bothered for a moment, taking the name in stride. He planted his foot and earthbended himself a stool, then set to doing the same for them.

“That’s a Fire Nation name,” Zuko hissed, under the grinding sound of stone on stone.

“Pssh, he doesn’t know that,” Sokka whispered.

“Everyone knows that,” Zuko said.

“Maybe it’s a Water Tribe name, too—”

“Have a seat?” Sensu interrupted, thankfully more amused by their whispered argument than curious what they were talking about. Zuko grit his teeth.

“I’ll stand,” Zuko said. “Who’s in charge here?”

“That would be me,” Sensu said.

“You’re not an officer,” Zuko said. It actually made Sensu laugh, how derisive he sounded, even though Sokka knew him well enough to tell that Zuko was only confused. Sokka was confused, too, because... that was a lot of men, to leave in the hands of a random soldier.

“Well, I’m it. The Captain was—it’s just me,” Sensu said. “Now. Do you want to tell me who sent you up here?”

“No one sent us,” Sokka said. “Or, well. We ran into a couple travelers who said they thought they’d seen smoke. We thought we might find a village. We’ve been on the road for a while. We were hoping...”

Well, for food, even though they didn’t have the money to pay for it. So for work, maybe, if they’d been able to find some. Sokka really hadn’t thought that far ahead. He was going to figure something out when they saw what they were working with.

“We were hoping for a village,” Sokka finished.

He was getting used to people looking at them the way Sensu looked now, with a vague sort of pity. They weren’t technically refugees, though they definitely looked the part, tired and hungry as they were. It had been hot lately, too. According to the map, they were getting close to the Si Wong Desert now. They’d planned their route to steer very clear of it, though—they’d have to be stupid to actually, willingly go in there. Zuko was looking a little rosy from the sun, and they were both feeling a bit weather beaten.

“Well, I’m sorry you’ve gone out of your way, but it’s just us up here,” Sensu said.

Sokka had kind of put that one together for himself, but he couldn’t help the frustrated little flicker of disappointment. They just... couldn’t catch a break.

“What are you doing up here?” Zuko asked.

“Did something happen?” Sokka asked. “I mean—the soldiers from the road were all fine, but you have a lot of injured for a camp set up in the middle of nowhere—”

Sensu flashed him a faintly amused look. “I guess I can see why Tai thought you might be a scout,” he said, instead of answering.

Zuko huffed, presumably at his imaginary demotion from ‘royal pain in the ass ship captain’ to ‘common scout’.

“Sorry,” Sokka said. “I just noticed. We don’t mean to pry. It’s just… weird.”

Sensu scrubbed his hands together, thinking, and then cut a glance at Zuko. His eyes very obviously lingered on his face, but Zuko just held his gaze with an increasingly stubborn frown.

“Our battalion was captured by the Fire Nation,” Sensu said.

Shit. Sokka glanced back over his shoulder at the rest of the camp, seeing the eerie stillness in a new light.

Zuko squinted at him, unimpressed with that answer. “Then how are you here?”

“Part of our company managed to escape—“

“So you’re deserters,” Zuko said. Sokka shot him a look, but Zuko didn’t seem even a little worried about offending him.

“We’re not deserters,” Sensu said. “We just... haven’t reported back yet.”

“That’s desertion,” Zuko said.

“We haven’t not reported back yet, either,” he said.

Zuko’s expression twisted, clearly wanting to argue the point. Sokka gave him a little nudge with his elbow. Accusing them of desertion was probably not the best way to get on their good side.

Sensu considered them.

“Not eating much, are you?” Sensu asked.

Zuko blinked at him, caught off guard by the subject change. His expression did a funny little wobble, like he was trying to figure out what his angle was. He crossed his arms tighter, stubborn.

“Not much to eat,” Zuko said.

“We’ll feed you. Least we can do, for the hassle,” Sensu said.

Hassle, Zuko mouthed, looking annoyed. Sokka elbowed him again. He wasn’t going to say no to a free meal.

Sokka could say with confidence, having heard Zuko describe the sorts of food his crew used to eat on his ship during long stretches at sea, and now staring down the threat that was Earth Kingdom Army rations, that the other nations could really stand to learn from the superior travel-friendly cuisines of the Water Tribes.

The only meat they had was dried, but not in the delicious, seal jerky sort of way—more in the punishing, sucking all the joy (and moisture) out of an unseasoned lump of… whatever-kind-of meat-this-was sort of way. Sokka hadn’t decided whether it was better or worse that their solution seemed to be to boil it to within an inch of its life until it was soft enough to tear into, but at least the stew was seasoned, and had real flavors like garlic grass and currycorns, which he’d come to appreciate in his time traveling through the Earth Kingdom with Aang and Katara.

He guessed that boiled meat and vegetable stew was probably the usual fare, considering the steely resolve with which the rest of the men tackled their portions.

It wasn’t particularly good, objectively, but compared to what they’d been eating for the last few weeks—which skewed a lot closer to nothing than he’d have liked—the bar was pretty low. And real meat, even the weird and dried kind? Sokka could have cried.

He’d taken… maybe more than was technically his fair share, while Tai watched with something approaching morbid fascination. Sokka probably could have found it in himself to feel bad about that, if not for the fact that they had more terrible army rations than they could possibly hope to go through, thanks to their run in with the Fire Nation cutting down their numbers.

“Spirits, when’s the last time you ate, kid?” he asked.

“Earlier today,” Sokka said. That was technically true, but the speed and eagerness with which he answered pretty clearly indicated that that had been a notable event.

Tai hummed, skeptical, but he didn’t stop him, so Sokka was going to take that as permission for thirds.

The soldiers were loud, once they’d gotten used to them.

It reminded him a little bit of home. Not just home, but home before, before the raids had taken his mom, before the men had left—back when he wasn’t the only warrior left in his whole village, when he could sit with the other men around the fire and and listen to their stories and feel like he belonged.

He was almost… it wasn’t quite envy, looking at them and the comfortable way they were around each other. It was homesickness, maybe, and longing for something he used to have.

(Something he may never get back, if he never finds Aang and Katara, if Aang never masters the elements, if they never stop the war—)

But looking at them, and the easy way they talked to each other, he could almost forget where they’d come from. One question had been itching at the back of his mind, though, and Sokka was never very good at holding it in once the thought had formed.

“Are you going back?” Sokka asked.

That made Sensu pause. He shared a quick glance across the table, then set his spoon down.

“We’re still… working on that,” Sensu said at length.

Sokka could practically feel the way Zuko was frowning, without even having to look.

“Anyway, if… when we do report back, you two are going to have to beat it,” Sensu said. “Spirits knows if the captain was still here, the ink on your conscription papers would already be dry.”

“We’re not—” Sokka almost said from the Earth Kingdom, but that was a bit too telling, “soldiers.”

Sensu scoffed. “Like that matters,” he said. “Half the men here are bakers’ and merchants’ and farmers’ sons. They don’t care, so long as you can throw a rock or swing a sword.”

Sokka had wanted to go to war with the other men, to fight the Fire Nation. If he’d been given the chance back then, he would have taken it in a heartbeat. He’d wanted nothing more than to make sure that their village could live free and safe from the Fire Nation.

He thought Sensu probably wanted that, too, or… maybe not free from the Fire Nation. Maybe… free from the war. That wasn’t the same thing, in the sprawling Earth Kingdom mainland, where the ripples from the Fire Nation occupied territories on the coasts stretched for miles inland, and where conflicts with Fire Nation soldiers were as unexpected as they were deadly.

“They’re not all like that,” Sensu added. “There are good men, too. And… some choose to fight. Just—half the time it seems like the higher they get up the ranks, the more out of touch they are. They’re all comfortable where the war can’t touch, pushing their little markers around a map, and we’re out here getting burned for our trouble. Half the people they recruit nowadays don’t get any more than a few weeks of training.”

“Nothing like fresh meat for the grill,” Tai said through a mouthful.

“That’s—” Sokka said. “That’s wrong.”

“Yeah, well,” Tai said. “Tell it to the Earth King, and let me know how that goes. I’m sure he’d—”

Zuko scraped the last of his food into his mouth, mumbled a quick thanks, and stalked away, leaving the empty bowl behind.

He eventually found Zuko at the stables. He was leaning a little bit into Beaky’s side, his hand buried in the feathers on her neck. She noticed him coming first, and swiveled her head around to stare at him. Zuko tensed slightly as she turned, but he relaxed when he saw Sokka there. He huffed a quiet breath, frowned.

Brooding frown, Sokka thought. He was very used to that one, because it seemed like Zuko was always brooding about something these days. Maybe he was still grumpy about the whole ‘almost being prisoners’ thing—a bit hypocritical, if he asked Sokka, but he wasn’t going to say as much.

It was nearly dusk now, streaks of sunlight filtering patchwork through the trees, casting long shadows over the camp. In the fading light Zuko’s eyes shone orange and gold like firelight. It was strangely captivating, and he wondered absently, if he looked long enough, if he might be able to see through to what he was thinking. Zuko shifted a little, awkward, and Sokka realized that he was waiting for Sokka to say something.

“Right. Uh, Sensu says we can stay a while,” Sokka said. “They have a tent we can use. Plus, I’m sure Beaky will be happy about sleeping in a stable, for once.” He tilted his head at her. She had... definitely made herself at home. “Honestly, she’s probably going to throw a fit when we try to leave.”

Zuko hesitated. He gave Beaky one more soft pet on the beak, so gently that it made Sokka’s heart do something funny to watch. Then he nodded solemnly and followed Sokka out.

Sensu had shown him where to go, but now that he was actually looking… maybe he should have asked for two tents, and another bedroll if they had one. He hadn’t thought to, before, but Zuko was probably tired of sharing.

Zuko didn’t seem at all bothered by the single tent, though, even as Sokka pushed aside the flap and ducked inside. He moved to follow, but then he stopped short on the threshold, fingers curled tightly in the fabric. He glanced back, at the stables and then the camp, and then turned to Sokka with a tense frown.

“This is a terrible idea,” Zuko said.

Sokka’s stomach fluttered. Right. Uh.

“We can… I can ask if they have another tent,” he said.

“No,” Zuko said. “I mean we should go.”

Ah. Sokka supposed he should have expected this, considering how allergic Zuko was to stopping and talking to people.

He rolled his eyes, and Zuko insisted, “We shouldn’t stay here. We should take the ostrich—take Beaky and run for it.”

“Oh, come on,” Sokka said. “This is the perfect place to stop. None of them recognize you. They have no way of learning who you are without contacting their superiors, which they can’t do without getting in trouble for deserting. I mean, this is great! The only way they can learn who you are is if we tell them. So just—don’t tell them.”

Sokka shrugged. Simple. He didn’t see what the big deal was. They all seemed friendly, and no one had even batted an eye at their story.

“Is this what you did with the Avatar?” Zuko asked. “Just... shrug and hope for the best?”

“It’s worked well for me so far,” Sokka said.

“Fine,” Zuko said through his teeth. “But then we keep moving.”

Breakfast was more boiled meat stew, without the rice this time. Sokka definitely wasn’t going to complain, though, since it was both free and free flowing. Zuko picked at his much more reluctantly, making very poorly-concealed rude faces at his bowl, and squinting a little confusedly at the chuckles that earned him. It was pretty funny—Zuko was so weird about what sorts of things he chose to be a royal snob about, going days eating rabaroo food without complaint, or tromping through the mud with no problems, but then turning his nose up at the first real meat they’d eaten in ages.

Beaky looked a lot happier with her breakfast, sitting in her new stable like a lazy lump and absolutely refusing to come out no matter how much Sokka prodded her. So, it was breakfast in bed for her. Sokka had just grumbled under his breath and given in, and then grumbled even more while he brushed her, with the man tending to the soldiers’ ostrich horses chuckling at him the whole time.

Zuko hadn’t even bothered unpacking anything last night, but when he returned to the tent Sokka found the bedroll and blankets all packed up, too. He wandered out again and paced around the camp a little, until he eventually found him. He was already dressed to leave, with his swords on his belt. Zuko was sitting cross-legged at the edge of the training field, settled in a little patch of sunlight filtering through the tree cover, basking like a crococat. His hands were folded in his lap, eyes closed, either not paying any attention to the men sparring on the grounds, or pretending not to.

Sokka dropped down into the dirt next to him, and Zuko cracked an eye.

“Are you ready to leave?” Zuko asked.

“Yeah, yeah,” Sokka said. He flapped a hand at him. “In a bit.”

“Did you feed—?”

“Yep. Sun oats and grass hay,” Sokka said. “Also a little bit of fig apple, from the stable hand. Apparently their ostrich horses are spoiled. We’re never gonna convince her to leave, at this point.”

“And did you—?

“Brush her, yes, her royal highness is all soft and fluffy, don’t you worry,” Sokka said.

Zuko huffed and stubbornly closed his eyes again, so Sokka turned his attention back to the training ground. The men at the far end were practicing their bending, moving through forms with the grating sound of stone on stone following each strike. The rest of them were just training with weapons—probably nonbenders, then, or maybe just earthbenders looking to keep their skills sharp.

Sokka watched them for a moment. It wasn’t like he was… well, if he was honest with himself, he was a little jealous, watching how easily they trained with one another, and the easy camaraderie between them. It reminded him of Dad and the rest of the men. They were probably out there somewhere, sailing, and tracking Fire Nation war ships, and training, just like this, and here Sokka was…

He dug his fingers into the dirt, clawing little divots in the dust. Maybe… maybe it would be worthwhile to stay. Just for a while, a little bit longer, and Sokka could…

He sighed and let the dust sift through his fingers.

“Okay,” Sokka said quietly. “Let’s go—”

“You just going to watch the whole time?” Tai asked.

Zuko cracked an eye to squint at Tai. Sokka glanced at him, and then at Tai, startled, realizing that he was talking to him. He raised his hands to wave him off.

“Ah, no, I shouldn’t,” Sokka said. “I don’t know the first thing about using a sword, so I doubt I’d be much of a match.”

Not unless they had any Water Tribe weapons he could borrow, which he very much doubted. Definitely not a boomerang, anyway, because those seemed pretty rare outside of the Water Tribes. The only ones he’d ever seen sold in the Earth Kingdom had been on that pirate ship, and those had been acquired from the Northern Water Tribe. Even the sorts of Water Tribe weapons that might have Earth Kingdom equivalents, like his club, or his jawbone knife… he wasn’t sure how common those were, with the Earth Kingdom Army, or if they even bothered getting creative beyond a standard issue sword, considering that the Earth Kingdom had no shortage of benders to train.

Anyway, it wasn’t like he could ask without making them suspicious, considering he was supposed to be Wang, a wayward Earth Kingdom refugee, who had no reason to even know what those weapons were. He definitely didn’t want to get them wondering why he knew how to use a Water Tribe weapon, anyway.

“What about you?” Tai asked Zuko. “You seemed pretty ready to swing those things around when we found you on the mountain.”

“You ambushed us,” Zuko said defensively. “What did you expect?”

Tai shrugged. He tapped his sword against his boot, considering.

“So?” Tai asked.

“...So?” Zuko parroted.

“So, come on,” he said. “Show us what you’ve got.”

“Fine,” Zuko said.

“Really?” Tai asked, surprised.

“Really?” Sokka asked, maybe slightly too eagerly.

Zuko made a face like he was already regretting indulging them, and Sokka grabbed him by the elbow before he could get up, and stomp off, and pretend to be too cool and aloof for them. He gave him a friendly little shove toward the training ground.

Zuko muttered an annoyed string of words under his breath, which Sokka could only assume was him saying very nice things about his kind and supportive friend, encouraging him to get a little sword fighting action. Tai watched him stomp up to his position with amused interest. A few of the other men had stopped too, leaning with their swords slung over their shoulders.

It was kind of a funny image, with Zuko’s grumpy expression, and how small he looked standing next to Tai. He drew his swords from his sheath in one fluid motion and fell back into a confident stance.

Sokka leaned forward a little, almost holding his breath as Zuko’s expression smoothed into one of concentration. He’d seen him bend, of course, so it wasn’t like he’d never seen Zuko fight, but something about the way he wielded his swords was different. He always seemed so angry when he was firebending, shouting and throwing vicious punches and, usually, yelling about catching the Avatar. Now he just looked calm, and focused, and he could see in Tai’s expression, the slightest raise of his eyebrow, the way his grin grew just slightly wider, that he’d noticed it too. Zuko flipped one of his blades in his palm, pacing a slow circle around him, waiting for Tai to make the first move.

Tai was a good head taller than Zuko, and had a much longer reach. He ducked in for a quick swipe, but Zuko parried it easily, the strike glancing down to the side without much force behind it. He danced back to avoid another strike. Tai was aggressive, pushing forward as Zuko dodged away. The way he moved was nothing like when he was firebending, either, flowing from one stance to the next like water. They reached the edge of the training ground and Zuko pivoted to turn. Tai swept forward the moment he saw the opening.

The impact rang across the training ground, and Sokka could see the way Zuko’s arms flinched under Tai’s weight as he pressed forward. He could see his sword slipping in his grip.

Instead of leaning on his sword, Zuko let the blade glance to the side. He slipped under Tai’s arm, stepped into his space, and planted his heel on his foot. One shove from Zuko’s shoulder, and Tai was off balance, on his back, swords entirely forgotten.

There was a drawn pause, where Tai gaped at him, and Zuko looked increasingly annoyed.

“That's not sword fighting! That’s cheap!” Tai shouted, mock-outraged, though the indignation was betrayed by the slight smile he was trying very hard to squash.

“It’s not—” Zuko started. He huffed, and ground out, “Well. Don’t leave yourself open to cheap shots, then.”

A couple of the other men had been watching with amusement, but Zuko’s blunt dismissal made them laugh. Tai laughed, too, more startled than anything, as Zuko withdrew his swords and returned them to their sheath in one smooth motion.

Sokka’s heart was thumping excitedly, buzzing under his skin, and a little overwarm. Zuko turned to look at him then, and Sokka pushed himself to his feet quickly, trying to cover for himself.

“What was that?” Sokka hissed. “That was amazing!”

Zuko looked caught off guard. The corners of his mouth turned down, outwardly grumpy, but his face and neck tinged slightly pink at the attention.

“Why are you acting so surprised?” Zuko asked. “I’ve been carrying these around for weeks.”

“Well, yeah, but I didn’t realize that you were actually good with them!” Sokka said. “I just figured—I mean, I don’t really know, I wasn’t expecting that, is all.”

His heart was hammering excitedly. He flashed Zuko a smile, praying that he looked normal. Oh, spirits, he was not going to blush. He was going to keep it together. He was just... very normal, and casual, and excited for Zuko that won his match so easily.

“Will you show me how to do that?” Sokka asked. “I mean, without my boomerang all I have is this little knife, and that’s not going to do anything against anyone that matters, and…”

He trailed off, because Zuko’s expression had shifted from bafflement to looking almost conflicted.

“What?” Sokka prompted.

Zuko shook himself. “Nothing,” he said. “Yes, sure, I can show you some things.”

Sokka pressed his luck. “Now?” he asked.

“Fine,” Zuko said.

Sokka reached for the hilt of one of Zuko’s swords.

“No,” Zuko said, smacking his hand away.

“What? You’ve got two of them,” Sokka said.

“They’re a set,” Zuko said. “Anyway, you’ll cut your hand off. Borrow a training sword. They’re blunted.”

The camp’s training sword selection left a little to be desired—more piece meal than anything, probably cobbled together from the supplies they’d managed to scrape together during their retreat. Then again, Sokka didn’t even have a sword, so it felt a little rude to be picky. Zuko plucked one off the rack for himself—a curved blade, more similar to his own than the straight sword Sokka was eyeing. He weighed it in his hand a moment, then shrugged.

“You don’t want two?” Sokka asked.

“You don’t want me to have two,” Zuko said with a smirk. Sokka made a face at him, and Zuko snorted. “It’s easier to show you like this, anyway.”

Sokka lifted his sword up a bit, testing the weight. It had a lot more heft to it than his boomerang. He balanced it on his palm by his grip on the hilt, then gave it a few test swings, just to try it out.

“I should get one of these,” Sokka said.

“Learn how to use one, first,” Zuko said.

Zuko plucked one of the dulled training swords from the rack and offered it up instead. It was a little lighter than the real thing, though surprisingly not much. Zuko huffed and ducked back a little as Sokka gave it a few experimental swings, too.

Oh, yeah. He totally had this.

“Okay, show me what you’ve got,” Sokka said.

Zuko just looked at him for a moment, a vague sort of amusement on his face.

“What are you doing?” Zuko asked.

“Uh,” Sokka said. He glanced at the sword, then back to Zuko. “Sparring?”

Zuko snorted. He flicked his blade out and clipped the edge of Sokka’s sword, swung it down and out of his hands in an eyeblink.

“Wh—hey!” Sokka said.

“If you don’t want me to disarm you, fix your grip,” Zuko said. He hooked his boot under the blade and flipped it up so he could catch the hilt.

Sokka tried to take it from him, but Zuko held on for a moment.

“You’ve trained with a club,” Zuko said, not a question.

Sokka perked up a little, the start of a grin forming on his face. He nodded.

“I can tell,” Zuko said blandly, “because you look like you’re planning to bash me to death with it.”

“Okay, I get it,” Sokka laughed, and Zuko let the hilt go.

Sokka eyed Zuko’s hand, and tried to copy the position with his own. It felt clumsy like that, strangely top heavy, or maybe he was just imagining it, unused to a weapon with this much reach.

“Use two hands,” Zuko said. His hand wrapped around Sokka’s, warm and rough with callouses, and guided his fingers around the hilt in a loose grip. He reached out and nudged Sokka’s other hand down, closer to the pommel. “There. Just like that.”

The sword was longer than a club, and the balance was different, but Sokka had trained with other weapons before, as Zuko so jerkishly pointed out, so it wasn’t as though he was starting from scratch.

Some of the other men from his village had trained with whale-tooth scimitars for close combat—good for getting past the Fire Nation’s armor, and a blade between the ribs was a blade between the ribs whether you could shoot fire from your hands or not. He could remember bundling up into his coat and following Dad and Bato out onto the ice, watching them spar, just like this, and wanting desperately to try. He was too young, then. Dad had promised him there would be time.

They’d found a whale-tooth scimitar outside the Earth Kingdom abby that had taken Bato in, lost in the aftermath of the battle. He could have taken it, but... Sokka had never gotten the chance to learn. It was too unwieldy for him when he was just starting, too little to hold it properly, and then the men had left, and there was no one left to teach him.

So yeah, maybe the sword was new to him, but it wasn’t so different once he got a hang of the weight of it, the reach and the balance in his hand.

Zuko was watching him with a keen eye, blocking Sokka’s clumsy attempts at strikes, and giving notes all the while, entirely unbothered by the multitasking. He kept up a constant stream of little comments, “watch your wrist” and “don’t overextend”, “you’re too eager”, and “don’t get greedy with your swings”.

“You’re very critical, you know that?” Sokka asked.

Zuko flushed. “I’m just trying to—”

“Zuko,” Sokka interrupted. “I’m joking.”

“Oh,” Zuko said.

Sokka took advantage of his distraction to get past his guard. Or—tried to. Zuko batted his swing away like it was nothing.

“...Your stance is good,” he said after a long moment.

Sokka grinned. He was pretty sure he could feel himself flush, and, ugh, he really hoped that Zuko just thought that was from the exertion, and not from the hesitant little smile he offered him in return.

Zuko looked good like this. Not like—well, yes, like that, but also just... in general. He looked relaxed, so comfortable with a sword in his hand. An extension of the arm, Suki had said about her fans, and the same was obvious in the way Zuko moved. He spun his blade absently, considering Sokka’s stance as they paced around each other, sure in every movement.

Sokka grinned and gave his sword a dramatic little twirl, too, teasingly. His little sword flip was decidedly less graceful, and Zuko snorted a laugh. Sokka felt a little flutter in his chest. Oh spirits, that was—cute, which was absolutely not how he ever would have imagined Zuko before, not in a million years. His heart skipped treacherously, and Zuko seemed to notice his mind was wandering, or maybe he just liked to bully him, because he clipped the edge of Sokka’s sword and tried to knock it from his hands again. His palms were sweating, and he felt his grip nearly slip. He managed to keep his hold on it, barely, while Zuko looked all amused and smug at him, the jerk. They were both sweating now, though Sokka way more so than Zuko, because...

Zuko was really good at this. Well, obviously. He’d shown that plainly when he’d laid Tai flat, but it was even more impressive up close. He was clearly going easy on Sokka, though, and not just because he was only using one sword instead of two. Sokka was not going to be deterred. He’d fought against tough opponents before.

So what if Zuko knew his way around a sword? That wasn’t so special. There were other things that went into winning a fight. Strategy. Reading your opponent. Sokka knew how to do all that—that sort of thing was important for any weapons style. He just had to find his opening. Like...

Like when Zuko had used Tai’s height against him, getting under his arm like that, using his own body weight to take him down. That… gave him an idea, actually.

(Who said he had to only use his new sword skills to win? Zuko clearly hadn’t minded the low blow, when he’d been fighting Tai.)

Every move Zuko made was confident, stability in his footsteps, power behind his swings. The Kyoshi Warrior’s technique was all about using their opponent’s force against them, taking their momentum and making it work in your favor.

Suki had had a sword, too. Sokka hadn’t really practiced with that. He’d been too busy trying to get the hang of using those metal fans, and not getting his ass handed to him under all that heavy armor and flowy skirts, which was a lot harder than it looked—but that didn’t mean that the forms weren’t useful, with a little improvising. Sokka fell back slightly, giving himself a little more room to move, watching Zuko for an opening. Sokka definitely couldn’t take him head on. He just didn’t have the finesse for that, yet, when Zuko swung his blades as easily as breathing.

But strong and aggressive offense was basically Zuko’s specialty, and if he could just bait him into another one of those swings—

Surprise flashed across Zuko’s face for just the briefest moment. Sokka felt a twist of satisfaction at that, and Zuko was caught off guard enough now that he could slip under his sword the way Suki had shown him, to pin Zuko’s sword arm with his elbow long enough to hook his leg—

Zuko’s back hit the ground with a quiet whuff of air.

The dulled blade of the training sword thumped against the ground next to Zuko’s shoulder. Sokka grinned. His heart was hammering away in his chest, not just from the exertion, but—the excitement, from winning, definitely because of that.

“Ha!” Sokka said. His breath was still coming quickly. So was Zuko’s, the rapid rise and fall of his chest moving beneath Sokka’s hand. “I totally got you!”

“That’s… that was pretty good,” Zuko said.

“Pretty good?” Sokka asked incredulously. “Are you kidding? That’s it?”

Zuko smirked. He rolled under him, twisted and hooked his knee around Sokka’s neck. Sokka yelped as Zuko flipped them, landing on top with his knee pressing firmly down on Sokka’s chest. He didn’t even brandish his sword, just leaned it lazily against one shoulder.

“Pretty good,” Zuko said, with a smug little twist of his lips, “for a first try, anyway.”

For a moment he was sure he’d have been pinned in place by his gaze alone, and that lightning strike smile, nevermind Zuko’s weight pressing him down into the dirt. And, uh oh, now he was thinking about it, and Zuko was very close, and he could probably feel the rise and fall of Sokka’s chest and maybe the too-fast beating of his heart. Sokka’s fingers dug into Zuko’s thigh, just above his knee.

Oh, spirits, he could not be doing this.

Zuko cleared his throat and rose to his feet in one smooth motion. Sokka just—laid there for a second, before grudgingly propping himself up on his elbows.

“We should take a break,” Zuko said.

Right. That was—that was probably for the best. He leaned up and dusted his palms on his knees, mostly just to distract himself from searching Zuko’s face, because—he really wasn’t sure what he wanted to see there, and...

“Uh, yeah,” Sokka breathed. He cleared his throat. “Yep. Sure thing, buddy.”

Zuko leaned down to offer him a hand up. Sokka tugged his shirt up to wipe his face. Maybe it was best that they stopped. He felt a lot better after they’d offered to share their food, but he could still feel himself tiring more easily.

“Where’d you learn to do that?” Zuko asked.

“The Kyoshi Warriors,” Sokka said. Zuko just stared at him blankly for a moment, so he prompted. “You kind of, you know—” He lowered his voice, darting a quick glance over at the other men on the training ground, but none of them were close enough to overhear. Sokka made a little woosh gesture with his fingers, “—their island? You seriously don’t remember?”

Zuko shrugged.

“Aang threw you through a building,” Sokka prompted, “with fans?”

“Oh. Them,” he said awkwardly.

Sokka rolled his eyes, because of course Zuko hadn’t been paying attention to anyone or anything that didn’t involve Aang. He dusted off the seat of his pants and then moved to return the training sword to the rack.

“You’re still not very good,” Zuko said. Sokka laughed, and he flushed again. “I mean—you just started. So of course you’re not. Or—but you’re a quick study. Better than I’d have thought. Not that I didn’t think you would be. You were fine.”

“Well,” Sokka said amiably, after a long pause to see whether Zuko was going to stop there or just keep digging deeper. “I’d like to see you throw a boomerang.”

There were a few men lazing around next to the water basin, where there was, ostensibly, a place to watch their comrades spar, or to rest, though there seemed to be a lot more resting than training happening. It was a hot day, though the tree cover helped some, and he was thirsty. Forgoing the ladle hooked on the edge, Sokka dipped his cup straight into the basin and then flopped down onto the ground in the shade.

Zuko joined him, and dragged his swords into his lap. He stared at Sokka for a moment, with a complicated sort of look on his face.

“What?” Sokka asked.

Zuko opened his mouth. Closed it. Took a breath.

“I have something for you,” Zuko said. He was staring very resolutely at his hands, spread across his lap where his swords lay resting over his knees.

“You do?” Sokka asked. He grinned, despite himself, suddenly curious.

Zuko glanced up and caught his expression. He looked—nervous, but a weak smile fought its way onto his face at Sokka’s eagerness.

“What’s the matter?” Sokka asked lightly. “It’s not stolen, is it?”

“It’s—well,” Zuko said, but the nervousness was edging back in. Now he was really curious, watching the cagey look on his face. Curious, and suspicious. Sokka squinted at him, and Zuko huffed. “I should just show you. Um. Wait here.”

He nodded, and Zuko watched him for a moment as though confirming that he wasn’t going to follow along. Sokka leaned back lazily and took another pointed sip from his water, and only then did Zuko rise to stand.

Sokka watched his retreating back, covered in dust from rolling around in the sparring ring, until he heard boots scuffing along the ground beside him. Sensu patted him lightly on the shoulder and sat down. There were a couple of people sparring on the other side of the grounds, but he didn’t seem like he was here to watch them. Sokka took another drink and watched the mens’ training swords clatter together while Sensu settled.

“So,” Sensu said.

He was giving Sokka a sort of lop-sided smile that immediately made him think of older cousins and stuffing snowballs down the backs of coats. Sokka eyed him, suspiciously, and his smile only widened. “Does Lee know you’re sweet on him?”

Sokka choked on his drink.

Sensu slapped his back, helpfully, as he hacked into his arm, and cackled, unhelpfully, loud enough to draw a few curious stares.

“I’m—not,” Sokka choked out.

“Hey, kid, relax,” Sensu said. “It’s okay.”

“I never—I mean, we’re not anything, or anything, so,” Sokka said in a rush.

Sensu was just nodding along, eyebrows raised, a far too amused expression plastered onto his face.

“We’re not,” Sokka insisted again. Sensu hummed.

“You’re from the occupied territories, right?” he asked. “I kind of figured, with your name, and Lee’s whole…” he gestured awkwardly to his face. Sokka wasn’t sure if he meant the scar or his eyes, so he just coughed into his sleeve and tried to shake his head. “I know it’s kind of taboo out there, but really. No one cares here.”

“We’re just friends,” Sokka said. He and Zuko—his chest burned, just thinking about it, embarrassment and absolutely nothing else, because… that was so stupid, not that Sensu would know why. Not that Sokka could explain, anyway.

“Okay, okay. Just friends.” Sensu splayed his fingers, surrendering. “Just two friends, sharing an ostrich horse, and a bedroll—”

“That’s—it’s just practical!” Sokka said.

“Right,” Sensu said.

“We only have one,” Sokka insisted. “We’re not…”

His face was on fire, and… how had Sensu even known, when Sokka had only just started to realize it himself? How obvious could he have been, when they were just sparring, and joking around, a little, and…

Oh spirits. Did Zuko know?

Sokka seriously hoped not, for his own dignity. Zuko could be extremely oblivious, especially when it came to people, so maybe it would be okay… as long as no one brought it up.

Sokka shot Sensu a glare that only made him laugh, but he spread his fingers in surrender, and thankfully didn’t keep pestering him, right out in the open, when Zuko could be back at any moment to overhear.

He… probably wouldn’t say anything. He thought Sokka was upset because it was illegal in the Fire Nation, taboo in the occupied territories. He may have been teasing, but Sokka didn’t think he was cruel.

That wasn’t why Sokka was worried—the Fire Nation was, as always, completely stupid. He’d rather let Sensu think that was his reason, because he couldn’t exactly explain that no, it wasn’t complicated because Zuko was a boy, it was complicated because he was the son of the Fire Lord, formerly devoted to hunting down his best friend, and generally a royal pain in Sokka’s ass.

He was right about one thing, though. Things were different in the Earth Kingdom. So even if Sokka had started thinking about Zuko differently, he couldn’t know… was it because it was just the two of them, that Zuko laughed at his jokes, or looked at Sokka like, well, like they were friends?

They were still the same people, but Sokka couldn’t ignore that here they were just two refugees in the middle of a foreign nation, no responsibilities, the war a distant presence but one they could pretend didn’t matter. Zuko would never—it just didn’t make sense. Both of them had things to go back to, and Sokka still wasn’t sure what Zuko would choose, when the time came to make a decision.

Even if Sokka wanted that. Even if Zuko did, too…

A shout startled him out of his thoughts. Sokka turned toward the training ground, expecting to see some of the other men getting a little too into their sparring. Instead they were all standing, tense, swords at their sides. Sokka turned to where they were looking. Dread sank through him when he spotted the scout, running toward them full tilt.

“Sensu!” he shouted.

“What’s wrong?” Sensu asked. He was already on his feet by the time the man skidded to a stop in front of him.

“There’s something coming toward us up the mountain,” he said. “Something big.”

Sokka found Zuko next to their borrowed tent and their half-packed belongings, with Beaky waiting patiently beside him, fetched from her stable. Zuko’s bag was resting on the ground, it’s contents neatly stacked around the outside like Zuko had been searching for something.

Beaky eyed him nervously as Sokka ran up to them. Sokka couldn’t tell if it was the running, or if she was picking up on his anxiety, but it was enough for her to shift uneasily to her feet. Zuko glanced up warily at the sound of his footsteps, but when he spotted Sokka, he relaxed.

“I told you to wait—” Zuko said, exasperated.

“We have a problem,” Sokka said, and the exasperated look dropped right off Zuko’s face. He tensed, hand already falling to the hilt of his sword, leaning slightly to look behind Sokka like he expected him to be followed. Sokka waved him off.

“No, it’s not them,” Sokka said quickly, before Zuko could get the wrong idea. “Sensu’s men spotted a tank coming up the mountain. It’s headed straight for us.”

“A tank? Is it—?”

“Fire Nation,” Sokka confirmed. “They said they’d never seen anything like it.”

Zuko swore under his breath.

“Azula?” he asked.

“Well it’s not like they could see who was driving, but—”

“We need to leave,” Zuko said. He shoved one of the bags into his arms. Then he grabbed Sokka’s wrist and started to pull him along behind him. Sokka yanked back against his grip.

“What? No! We can’t,” Sokka said.

“What do you mean, we can’t?” Zuko asked.

“We have to help them!” Sokka said. “We owe them that much, at least.”

Zuko gaped at him.

“No, we don’t,” he said. “We need to move on before Azula realizes that we’re here and comes after us.”

“You’d just… leave them all to be captured by Azula?” Sokka asked.

“Yes,” Zuko said. “That’s exactly what we’re doing, because it’s the smart thing to do.”

“Well, I’m not. I’m staying,” Sokka said.

“You have nothing to gain by staying here,” Zuko said.

“That’s not what this is about,” Sokka said. “They need men, we can’t just—”

“They don’t need you,” Zuko snapped.

Sokka recoiled, at the tone and at the words. He took a step away, and Zuko clenched his fists around the empty air.

Maybe… well, of course they didn’t need him. The thought settled in his stomach like a stone. They had plenty of men, and they had weapons, and bending, and they were trained.

“Well, so what?” Sokka said defensively. “I can still—at least I’m not abandoning them.”

“That’s not—that’s not what I meant,” Zuko grit out.

“I’m not running away while everyone else stays behind to fight,” Sokka insisted.

Frustration flashed in Zuko’s eyes, and for a moment he looked like he was about to say something else. His mouth snapped shut instead. He grit his teeth.

Zuko yanked something out of his bag. It looked like a shirt, like something he’d grabbed from Song’s donations box, wrapped up into a little bundle of fabric. He shoved the lump into Sokka’s hands, and the hard edge of something jabbed him in the palm.

“Here!” Zuko shouted. “Now can we please just go? You’re already a warrior, so just stop. Nothing you do for them is going to make a difference. You don’t need to—”

Sokka unfolded the top of the fabric. Stared at it.

“Did you take this from me?” Sokka asked.

“—to prove yourself—”

Sokka dropped the fabric in the dust and gripped his boomerang in both hands, white-knuckled around the edges of it.

“Have you had this the whole time?” Sokka asked.

His voice was rising over Zuko’s, and the volume made him stumble and bite off the edge of whatever stupid excuses he was making. Sokka wasn’t really listening. He couldn’t. He—he didn’t care, because how could Zuko have kept this the whole time, and never mentioned it, even when Sokka had confided in him, and made a fool of himself, and let himself get robbed? Sokka flushed, angry at Zuko, for lying, for stealing from him, angry at himself for never noticing, when all this time Zuko probably thought he was such an idiot, for thinking that Zuko trusted him when—

Zuko seized him by both arms and shook him, hard, tearing Sokka’s attention away from his boomerang.

“Are you listening?” Zuko shouted. “Standing up for them is just going to get you hurt!”

Sokka jerked his arms back. Zuko’s breath was coming short, and his fingers slipped weakly off his arm, like he was having trouble keeping his grip.

“I’m not abandoning them,” Sokka said.

Zuko had been paranoid about Azula catching up to them this whole time, but this was more than that. His eyes were wild, his whole body tense like he was bracing for something.

Zuko clenched his teeth, frustrated that Sokka wasn’t listening to him. Sokka expected anger when he stubbornly met his eye, and was startled to see that Zuko almost looked—

Scared.

“Then…” Zuko said, “I’ll leave without you.”

Sokka didn’t even know what to do with the desperate frustration so plainly etched on his face. Like he couldn’t understand why Sokka wasn’t listening to him. Like he just expected him to be so easily bribed into leaving, just because he’d given him his own weapon. Like he thought Sokka was just doing this to… what? Play warrior? Like he didn’t take him seriously, didn’t think he could actually hold his own. He flexed his fingers around the grip of his boomerang.

“Do what you want,” Sokka said. “I don’t care.”

Zuko looked like he wanted to grab his arm again. He twitched forward as though to touch, and Sokka pulled his arm back. Zuko’s gaze flicked away from his face, down to the boomerang, and back.

“This isn’t your fight. Why won’t you just—” Zuko cut himself off, maybe at the look on Sokka’s face. He wasn’t changing his mind. “Fine.”

His shoulders dropped as the fight went out of him. Zuko turned his back on him, hastily re-packing his bag and saddling Beaky in sharp, unhappy movements. He didn’t even pause to hitch his own bag onto Beaky’s saddle. Zuko just threw the bag over his shoulder and swung up onto Beaky’s back in one smooth movement.

Sokka crossed his arms to watch, but Zuko didn’t so much as glance at him as he climbed into the saddle, and he didn’t look back.

Chapter Text

The camp had been cooler with the shade of the trees covering them, but the further they climbed the more the canopy thinned. Sokka mopped at his forehead with the edge of his sleeve. It looked like the area hadn’t seen any rain since the storm days ago, and the muddy footpath was already cracked and flakey under their boots.

Sensu had gathered any man who was well enough to fight. Seeing them all together wasn’t very comforting—only a couple dozen men, tired and underfed and carrying basic equipment. Sokka tried to tell himself that it was just one tank, that he’d faced worse odds. He pointedly didn’t think too hard about why that wasn’t the same, when last time he’d had Katara and Aang, the Air Temple and the Mechanist’s inventions, the North and their waterbenders, and here he was just… alone.

(Sensu had taken one look at him joining the other men and frowned.

“He’s not coming,” Sokka had said, before he could even ask, and maybe it was Sokka’s voice, or maybe he just knew better than to push, because he’d left it at that.)

The injured had stayed behind with the ostrich horses and the camp’s supplies. If something went wrong, if Sensu and his men didn’t come back, they’d need the ostrich horses to run. Sensu had almost seemed relieved, when they’d come to that decision. Whether or not they reported back, and whether or not they were deserters or brave survivors from an otherwise decimated battalion, was no longer his decision.

Their scouts had spotted the tank to the northwest, headed this way and fast, like its target was already in sight. The thought made his skin prickle with nerves. He racked his brain for all the people who had seen them in the last few days—the gatehouse soldier, the nuns, Than and Ying, minding their own business, trying to escape their own troubles. He wondered which, if any of them, Azula had found. Which had given them away.

Or maybe he was getting ahead of himself. They’d only seen the tank, not the occupants inside. There could be any number of explanations—it didn’t have to be Azula. Zuko had seemed convinced, though, enough to leave him behind, so if it wasn’t…

Well, it didn’t really matter, anyway. The tank hadn’t slowed in its pursuit, and that meant that he didn’t have time to speculate.

(He hadn’t seen which way Zuko and Beaky had gone—hopefully east, moving steadily away from the soldiers and the tank and whatever was waiting inside for them.

Not that Sokka cared.)

His fingers flexed around the grip on his boomerang. He’d dug through the camp’s supplies for something that would work as a holster. His boomerang was an awkward shape compared to the Earth Kingdom weapons they had stored, so it wasn’t a perfect fit. Sokka wasn’t a perfect fit for this company, either, so that suited him.

Thinking about Zuko again made his stomach churn, with frustration, mostly, and definitely not anxiety, because he’d left Sokka behind, so clearly Zuko didn’t care either, and all the days they’d been traveling together didn’t mean anything, just like before, just like when the raft had finally reached land.

And that was the problem, really. It wasn’t about the boomerang, or the lying. That part he could almost… he could almost understand why Zuko hadn’t said anything, if he had hidden his boomerang all the way back on the raft. Sokka had forgiven Aang, when he’d hidden his dad’s letter, back at the abbey with Bato. He’d been angry, but he’d understood.

Only this time...

He’d just thought after all this time, that maybe Zuko was changing, and he could trust him to—

But clearly he couldn’t, because he was the same, selfish Zuko who only thought about himself, because he was willing to just leave Sensu and his men to get captured by Azula or worse. Zuko didn’t care, not about the other men, and not even about—

Well, it didn't matter anymore.

He needed to focus on getting them out of this. They only had a couple dozen people, but Sensu and his men may still outnumber her—it was only one tank, moving quickly, there was no way they had the sort of numbers even their small fragment of an Earth Kingdom Battalion had.

How many earthbenders would it take to stop her?

(Oh, spirits, he was better off not thinking about it too hard.)

A tank that size was too large for them to bury outright, even with a team of earthbenders. At the speed it was traveling, it had to have some serious power driving it, not to mention the fire power of the guns, and the literal fire power that was Azula. She’d stop them before they could take it down, unless they could give themselves an edge.

They would have to catch her off guard.

Azula’s firebending was strong. Zuko had run from her at the resort. Iroh had run. Even they hadn’t thought it worth the risk to fight her head on, and that had been before, when she was backed by only half a dozen soldiers, not with a tank tearing across the Earth Kingdom, running down anything in its path.

So maybe they shouldn’t fight her head on.

“Sensu,” Sokka said. “I have an idea.”

They stopped on a high ridge and stared down the mountainside. The forest was too thick to spot the approaching Fire Nation tank, but he scoured the trees anyway. His gaze clung to the shadows, chest tight and tense with anticipation. It was the same sort of nervous energy he felt leaning over the side of a canoe with a spear in his hand, watching the shadows slither beneath the surface. It buzzed beneath his skin, strangely hard to tell, this time, whether he was the one who was doing the hunting, or the one being hunted.

The sun beat down on them. The ground was caked in dry clay, and the cliff face was brittle and jagged for nearly the next mile of road. There’d been a mudslide, probably during the same storm that had flooded them out of their camp by the river. The edge looked like it had taken the brunt of the weight of the collapse. Now this part of the ridge was narrower than the rest, and if Azula brought her tank through here, she’d have no way to go around them—only one way up, and one way through.

The ground was still damp underneath a shell of cracked, dry mud, but it only took a few feet of digging to reach the rocky layer beneath the soil. Turning out the pit traps was slow work, with the earthbenders carving careful furrows in the stone, and Sokka helping to meticulously disguise their work behind them. The dust was in his mouth and his hair, gritty and tasting of metal, and the beating sun made the work as miserable as it was exhausting, hauling detritus from the surrounding forest up the mountain to hide the pit traps and the evidence of their passing over the ridge.

He kept half an eye on the shadow of the mountain as it crept ever closer to the canyon’s edge, a constant reminder of how little time they had.

There was no way to cut corners clearing the ground, though, and most of Sensu’s earthbenders had too rough of the touch to work closer to the edge. The ground was too soft for Sokka’s comfort, and it might not be stable. The last thing they needed was for someone to accidentally trigger another rock slide and bury them all before Azula even arrived.

He walked the edge of the ridge, pointing out places they’d need to clear if they wanted this plan to work. The tank needed a path that didn’t look like it had been cleared for them, and Sensu’s soldiers needed the space to fight once Azula took it. Sokka hesitated at the edge of the ridge, stopping before the flash of white even fully registered in his mind

“Hey, wait a minute,” Sokka said.

There were patchy clumps of white dusted over the ground. He tracked it through the mud with his eyes.

“What is that?” Sensu asked.

Sokka’s heart pounded in his throat.

“It’s fur,” he said. He glanced up, but the sky was empty.

It was from Appa. It had to be. They’d passed right through here, recently enough that there was still an unmistakable trail of bison fur for Sokka to find.

Was this what Azula was following? The trail passed straight over the ridge. Now that he was looking for them, he could pick out the spotty clumps winding down the mountain ahead, back in the direction they’d spotted the tank, until the distance was too far for him to see anymore.

Maybe they weren’t after Zuko and Sokka after all. Which meant that Zuko was probably right, this really wasn’t his fight, or it didn’t have to be. He could leave, right now. Maybe he could even catch up to them. He couldn’t do it while they were flying on Appa, though, and... Sokka didn’t even have an ostrich horse, but maybe he could follow their trail before the wind wiped it clear, find out where they were heading—

Except, he could never just abandon Sensu’s men, and besides, if Azula was chasing Aang and Katara, there was no way Sokka was going to let her pass without trying to stop her.

He heard it first, the low grinding hum growing steadily louder. The men were getting increasingly tense, but soon they could feel it too, a faint tremor in the ground that set the earthbenders even further on edge.

“Shouldn’t we hide?” Tai asked.

That had worked well enough for them on the mountain pass, at least well enough to ambush Sokka and Zuko. He flicked a glance at the ground where the pits had been dug and covered over again.

“There’s no point. She’ll know we’re here either way,” he said.

She’d realized he was out of place at the resort. She noticed a tiny little cut on his thumb. There was no way she wouldn’t realize something was off. Better to be out in plain sight, give her something to focus on, and hope that the soldiers were distraction enough for her to miss the rest—

She’d seen through him last time, but he knew what he was up against now, and maybe that would be enough.

Well, he thought, glancing over his shoulder at Sensu and his men. It was going to have to be.

The tank stopped.

Sokka stared at it, sweat prickling on his nape.

It was similar to the tanks they’d seen during the Fire Nation’s attack on the Northern Air Temple. The design wasn’t quite the same, though—slightly larger, heavier plating, and Sokka was sure that any of the weaknesses they’d identified then were going to be of no use to him now. Azula was not the type of person to have weaknesses, in Sokka’s impression of her, a fact which was staring him very hard in the face, with the tank and its turrets only feet away, and a plan that relied just a little bit too much on chance.

They sat idling for a long moment. Sokka squashed down the anxiety churning his stomach. It didn’t necessarily mean that she’d seen through them—the narrowing of the ridge was obvious, and that was enough to make her pause to consider her options.

“They’re not going to—” Tai murmured, but he cut off when a metallic clang resonated through the canyon. The hatch on the side of the tank squealed as it slid aside.

She wasn’t alone. He could see the tank crew inside, firebenders in battle armor who eyed Sensu and his men with contempt, but Sokka’s gaze shifted nervously to the girls behind her. Neither of them was wearing armor. They definitely hadn’t been there when she’d tracked them to the resort. The expressions on their faces were… odd, for two people standing on the edge of a battlefield, bored out of her mind and delighted enthusiasm, respectively.

Azula stepped around the front of the tank. She stopped just shy of the pit trap, hands clasped in the small of her back, surveying the group. Just a couple steps more, he thought, and he could see Sensu’s men thinking it too, shifting nervously. Sokka wanted to send them a quelling look, because Azula was scarily perceptive, but her gaze had snapped to him like a messenger hawk the moment she’d stepped outside. He couldn’t risk it.

Did she know the pit was there, or was it luck that she stopped where she had? Sokka wondered whether it would be better to catch her off guard with the pit trap, or to catch one of the treads of the tank, to send her or the metal death machine over the edge—he was disturbed by how difficult it was to decide.

Sweat beaded on his skin, watching her rock back onto her heels, perfectly at ease as though she was simply inspecting her own men, not facing down dozens of earthbending soldiers on a narrow stone ridge. Her face was as unreadably smug as ever.

“I’ll admit, I’m surprised to see you here,” Azula said. She scuffed her boot over the ground, where the patchy trail of fur had mingled with the mud and clay. “Though with a trail this obvious, I suppose even Zuzu could manage…”

He’d tried to cover the pit with fur again once they’d finished hollowing it out, to keep the trail from being noticeably broken. It looked fine from this angle—like the ground had never been disturbed at all. Did she see something he didn’t?

Azula hummed. Her gaze raked over the faces of the men behind him before settling back on Sokka.

“And where is my brother? Off to catch the Avatar while you... what? Stall us for him? Helping him now, are you?” she asked.

“What does she mean, brother?” Sensu asked, voice low.

Sokka resisted the urge to flinch at the harshness in his tone. Instead he held Azula’s gaze, stony faced, but whatever she saw in the tick of his expression gave him away, anyway.

“Or maybe not,” she said. She laughed, but there was nothing pleasant in the sound. “Oh, poor thing, he left you behind, didn’t he?”

Sensu grabbed his arm. Azula watched them with sharp interest, and Sokka forced himself to tear his eyes away from her, to meet Sensu’s darkening gaze.

“What does she mean?” he repeated.

“It’s not...” Sokka swallowed. “It’s not what it sounds like.”

“Then explain it to me,” he said. Sokka tugged back against the grip on his arm.

“I can explain. I’ll—I will, just, please,” Sokka hissed. His heart was beating faster now, and Sensu’s grip tightened when he tried to pull away. He could see the carefully guarded anger under Sensu’s stern gaze. He was just worried for his men, because Sokka had been the one to bring them here. He’d been the one with the plan, and they’d trusted him. Now Azula was making it look like he’d been lying to him. He had been lying, but not like this, and she knew it as well as he did. Sokka cut another glance in her direction. “She’s just trying to get into your head.”

That was what she was doing, even if what she was saying was true. She’d done the same thing with Zuko in the resort, baiting him, knowing exactly what to say to make him angry. It had worked, too, because Zuko was a stupid hothead, and he probably would have gotten himself killed if his uncle hadn’t been there to create a distraction for them.

Well, Iroh wasn’t here now. Sokka didn’t love what that meant for him, in this scenario.

“I’m not interested in you, so I’ll give you one chance,” she said lightly, like she hadn’t even noticed the tense exchange. “Surrender, and get out of my way.”

It was too late to surrender. They could try to bluff, to lure Azula into their trap, but even if Sokka had a way to convey that to Sensu, there was no way he would trust Sokka now—

Sensu shifted onto his back foot, knee raised, and the ground cracked as a block of stone rose up from beneath them. Sokka didn’t even have a chance to shout at him to wait before he’d thrust both hands out to hurl the boulder forward.

It didn’t connect.

Azula struck the stone in the center with one searingly hot burst of flame, and the force of it alone was enough to make it shatter. The pieces scattered in front of her, and Sokka’s breath caught for one moment before they hit the ground. The pit trap didn’t break. The pieces didn’t weigh enough.

Azula looked entirely unphased by the attack, as perfectly composed as always, gaze hawk-like as she raked her eyes over the group, Sensu, and back to Sokka. She sighed, less like she was facing down a group of enemy soldiers, and more like she was dealing with an unruly child.

“Have it your way,” she said.

Sokka flinched when she brought both hands up, fingers pointed, just like she had at the inn. The back of his neck prickled, phantom static as he remembered the lightning flashing from her fingertips. He was standing out in the open like an idiot, no where to duck for cover—

“Azula!”

Azula whirled around at the sound. It took Sokka a moment to realize that it had come from above them, from one of the rocky cliffs they’d considered and discarded as too thin for anyone to try to cross, except on foot. Sokka stared.

Zuko.

He came back, and he… he must have climbed around, and for a moment Sokka couldn’t believe what he was looking at, because…

Oh.

Sokka sucked in a breath, and for a moment it felt like he was fighting for it past the exhilaration lighting him up from the inside. He didn’t even know what to do with this, what to think, whether he was upset or relieved or both or neither—

He’d thought he was gone.

(He was used to people leaving, but he’d never expected him to come back—)

Zuko was standing on the edge of the cliff, high enough that it was hard to look at him, a dark form backlit by the late afternoon sun. Sokka didn’t have to look at him though—he could picture the look on his face just fine, just from the angry challenge in his voice. Azula’s eyes narrowed, and she tilted her body away from Sokka and the other men. He’d have taken that as an insult, once, that she didn’t consider them as much of a threat as Zuko, except…

Except Zuko was stupid, and Azula knew it, and oh, spirits, he was definitely going to—

“No, don’t!” Sokka shouted.

His heart leapt in his throat as Zuko jumped.

There was a startled shout behind him, because Zuko was impulsive, and if Sokka didn’t know him better he’d be sure he was going get himself killed, except… except that Zuko was so damn stubborn, and even if he never thought things through, he was basically impossible to get rid of, Sokka would know, so—

So Zuko had to know he was way to high up to land that unless he—

Azula turned and fell back into a defensive stance, her fist alight with blue fire. The flash of it was overwhelmed by the wash of heat and light off Zuko’s landing, softening his fall with an explosive burst of flame that had the Earth Kingdom soldiers staggering back from the heat.

The tank rocked forward under the weight of his landing. Part of the impact was swallowed as Azula countered with her own burst of flame. Azula’s gaze flicked down, so fast Sokka nearly missed it, but she was obviously looking at the hollow ground in front of the tank.

Which meant she was onto them. Which meant she knew, and Zuko didn’t, and if he kept attacking like that the tank was going to slide forward, the ground would give, and they would fall, except Azula would be ready for it and Zuko wouldn’t. The fear of that realization rose in his throat like bile.

“Zuko, get off of there!” Sokka shouted, and he only realized after the words had left his mouth that he’d used the wrong name, shit—

Sensu swore viciously, but Sokka didn’t have time to worry about him, or the fact that Zuko had just firebended in front of a bunch of Earth Kingdom soldiers.

Zuko shot another stream of fire, before Azula could strike back, and then jumped. The tank rocked slightly when Azula swept both hands up to divert the flames onto the metal around her, and then Zuko’s feet struck the nose of the tank, and the entire thing buckled—

No, the ground buckled. Startled fear flashed over Zuko’s face, as the nose of the tank jerked down and then started to slide, down the path they’d cleared, that Azula had carefully avoided. Zuko scrambled for purchase on the front, and Azula dropped to her knees, fingers digging into the gaps in the plating to keep from being thrown off.

The tank stopped mere inches from the edge, at a lilting angle that Zuko and Azula didn’t even seem to notice. Almost before it had stopped, Zuko was sweeping his heel back around, to climb to higher ground as much as to force Azula back.

Or to try, at least. She ducked under the flames like they were nothing, smiling the whole while.

“Come on, Brother, you and I both know you can’t beat me in a fair fight,” she said, hands raised in a shrug, clearly taunting him. And Zuko was an impulsive idiot, so of course he was going to fall for it.

The tank jolted again, as a piece of stone from the mountainside broke free, and Zuko wobbled as Azula widened her stance, eyes narrowing in Sokka’s direction.

Beside him, Sensu planted his feet, and the ground cracked.

“What are you doing?” Sokka shouted, but Sensu barely glanced at him, and if he hesitated it was only for a moment, before he turned back toward the tank, mouth pressed into a grim line. He thrust another bolder, and another, chipping away at the mountainside. He didn’t care that Zuko was in the way. He—

“Zuko, it’s going to fall,” Sokka shouted. “You need to move!”

Zuko spared him half a glance, hearing his name, but he either hadn’t heard the rest or he was too stubborn to move. That was fine, the tank was close and Sokka was near the edge, he could run over there and grab him himself, drag him off if he had to.

Something whizzed past his ear, and Sokka flinched, turning, and spotted the dark haired girl on the other side of the ridge. She still looked bored, and she hardly reacted when their eyes locked. He spotted the glint of the knife in her hand and stumbled back just in time, hand flexing automatically around the handle of his boomerang as he took aim.

Something hit him in the shoulder half way through his swing. A burst of pressure, not quite pain, lanced down his arm, and his grip slipped.

“What the—” Sokka choked out, as his arm flopped uselessly to his side. He whirled, wide-eyed and barely managed to stumble back away from the other girl before she could hit his other shoulder.

“Azula didn’t mention that you were cute,” she said, stepping up into his space, so that Sokka could either step back again, further away from the tank, or leave himself open to another strike. His entire arm had gone numb, not even pins and needles, like when he’d been paralyzed by that shirshu venom, but just dead, like it belonged to someone else. He forced down the bloom of panic that burst in his chest, because he had bigger problems than his arm if he didn’t get away from her.

Sokka stumbled, when she tried to strike his other shoulder again, and he barely managed to avoid it.

“I’m Ty Lee, by the way,” she said cheerfully, like they were meeting over tea, and not in the middle of a battle. The angle of his throw had been knocked a few degrees off when she’d hit his shoulder, and Sokka’s boomerang had swung back around to dig a few inches into the caked mud behind her, instead of hitting her friend, or coming right back to him.

He’d have to get past her to reach it again, and Sokka didn’t like the idea of putting his back to her, to being any more helpless during the fight than he already was. Sokka closed his good hand around the hilt of his sword. He hadn’t practiced much, and Zuko had told him to use two hands, but it was this or nothing, and he wasn’t about to give up. It forced her a step back, at least, when Sokka drew the straight sword from his sheath, but the only indication that she was bothered at all was the way her eyes barely narrowed, glancing between the blade and his wrist, already thinking about disarming him.

A column of stone erupted in front of him, and Sokka stumbled another step back when the ground buckled underneath him.

Ty Lee let out a little yelp when the suddenly uneven ground nearly sent her teetering back toward the edge. For a moment Sokka thought she was going to fall over backwards—but no, a block of stone sailed harmlessly over her head, and she flipped over from a handstand to crouching as though it was nothing.

She blinked between Sokka and the direction the rock had come from, where Sokka could see Tai standing ready for an attack.

“I’ll be right back,” she said cheerfully, like he was a dance partner and not an opponent. Like she didn’t even think he was worth her time.

Yeah. Yeah, that made sense, because Tai was an earthbender, and the bigger threat. Sokka clenched his teeth, trying to flex his fingers, to get some kind of feeling back into his arm. His boomerang—

Sokka spotted it where it had fallen. He moved to grab it, and then flinched back again when a knife flashed past his wrist, so close that it drew a hairline knick across his knuckles.

A sword wasn’t a great match for long range, and Sokka wasn’t particularly interested in testing whether he was some kind of savant at mid-air deflections, when he was working hard to just remember the forms Zuko had shown him, now that he only had one hand to use. Her eyes narrowed, and he scrambled back, but before she could raise her hand to throw another knife, a gout of flame flashed between them, momentarily cutting her off from view.

Sokka startled back at the wash of heat rolling over him. Across the divide, the gloomy girl flinched, too. The tank shifted again with a groan of protest, stone-on-stone scraping as Sensu pushed again, sliding further and tilting now at a dangerous angle. Concern flashed across the gloomy girl’s face, hardly noticeable and gone just as quickly as it appeared. She must have been worried about Azula, even though she clearly didn’t need the concern.

Sokka darted forward while she was distracted and snatched his boomerang off the ground, sending chunks of mud skittering down into the trench. He wrestled his sword back into its sheath one handed, running, juggling his boomerang too. She noticed what he was doing a moment too late; another knife sunk into the mud at his heel, a near miss, as he sprinted for the other side of the tank.

Sensu was still trying to dump them into the canyon. Sokka shouldered him from behind, and… he hardly even noticed, damn earthbenders and their rock solid stances, Sokka couldn’t catch a break—

Sokka opened his mouth to shout at him to stop, but he cut himself short when he saw the look on his face. Sensu didn’t even look angry, just resolved. He wasn’t going to convince him. Sensu barely met his eye, and Sokka could see that he’d written Sokka off as a lost cause, too. He shoved past him, and Sensu let him go.

The stone projectiles shattered against the metal side of the hull with so much force that the metal had warped beneath the impacts, pockmarked and filthy where it had once been pristinely polished, little dents in the facade Azula had so carefully maintained. There was so much dust in the air that the grit clogged his mouth and burned his lungs.

Zuko and Azula were still trading blows, but Zuko was clearly on the back foot, losing ground. The nose of the tank was hanging over the canyon’s edge now, wobbling dangerously like a raft adrift on a choppy sea.

Sokka’s arm was still numb, but that was fine, he wasn’t quite as practiced with his left arm as he was with his right, but he’d thrown his boomerang a thousand times and his muscles knew the steps. Knife Lady spotted him as soon as he let go, tracking the arc of his boomerang with her eyes. She pulled her arm back, but a stone struck the ground in front of her, too close, before she had the chance to knock his boomerang off its course.

Boomerang angled back around, and for a moment it looked like it was going to hit Azula from behind, the same way he’d hit Zuko in the South Pole. But then somehow, her gaze slid across the trench. She spotted him, the angle of his stance as he drew back from his throw, and he saw the curse form on her lips. She ducked just in time, and his boomerang sailed clean over her head.

Spirits, Zuko hadn’t been kidding, his sister was unstoppable—

The motion unbalanced her. Azula lost purchase, slipping a few feet over the tank’s armor. Her boots spat sparks as she dug her toe in to stop herself from falling. Azula whirled and glared at him, gaze burning like she couldn’t believe his audacity. Zuko followed the line of his boomerang’s arc back to Sokka’s hand. Their eyes met.

“Zuko, get off of there!” Sokka shouted, because he finally, finally had his attention. Zuko looked startled, and cast around like he was only just realizing that the tank was hanging more off the cliff than on. He saw the curse forming on his lips, but the word was swallowed by the shrieking groan of the cliff finally giving away beneath them.

Sokka dropped his boomerang and dove.

For a moment his heart stuck in his throat. Zuko wasn’t going to make the jump, Sokka wasn’t going to reach far enough. Their fingers brushed and he could picture them slipping, and then—

—and then Zuko’s hand closed around Sokka’s wrist, slipped on the dusty grit of his forearm, then clasped with Sokka’s hand, desperately tight. He could feel the bones in Zuko’s hand creaking from how fiercely he held on. The stone edge of the cliff dug into Sokka’s ribs, knocked the wind out of him. He felt something pop in Zuko’s shoulder, clicking painfully under his own weight, but he wasn’t even looking at Sokka. He just clenched his teeth, staring down at Azula—

—as she kicked off from the falling tank effortlessly, and caught herself just as easily, fingers dragging against the stone on the other side of the ridge. She hooked a foot into a gap in the stone and leaned back to meet Sokka’s eye. Zuko’s fingers tightened, and Sokka could feel the sigh shudder through him. He grit his teeth and pulled Zuko up. It wasn’t easy with one hand. Sokka tried to flex the fingers of his other hand—they were prickling, but not quite cooperating yet, so instead he just dug his knees in and let Zuko do most of the work getting up and over the edge.

Sokka’s heart was pounding. His hand shook slightly from the spike of adrenaline, watching Zuko jump over the gap. He realized after a moment that he was still holding Zuko’s hand, even though he had his knees under him now. Sokka forced his fingers to uncurl and wobbled over to grab his boomerang, instead. He glanced up.

Ty Lee had retreated back to join the gloomy girl on the other side of the trench. She leaned slightly over the edge, looking for somewhere to pick her way down.

For a single, tense moment the gloomy girl watched them both. Sokka could feel Zuko growing more and more tense as she glared at them. Maybe he was worried—she was pretty good with those knives, she could definitely clear the gap, and Zuko was holding his arm a little awkwardly against his side, unable to block.

Ty Lee leaned back on her heels to say something to her, and all at once she glanced away. Sokka watched them for a few seconds, as they started to climb down, and then he squeezed Zuko’s shoulder, hesitating just for a second when Zuko glanced up at him.

He grasped for the right words and didn’t find them. What came out instead was:

“You came back,” Sokka said faintly.

Maybe that was a stupid thing to say, because obviously he’d come back, he was here, but if Zuko thought it was stupid he didn’t show it. He was out of breath, from the fight, from nearly falling, chest heaving but still tense. He just nodded, hesitantly.

“Um. Yeah. I—”

Zuko cut off with a shout. He stumbled forward as he ground buckled underneath him, and for one wild moment Sokka’s mind flashed to the cliff, still weakened from the collapse. He should have made Zuko move further away, where he’d be safe.

Except, he wasn’t falling, he was sinking, down to his calves in the earth. Zuko swore as the sudden jolt knocked him forward. He clenched his teeth around a shout, when he caught himself on the bad arm, the one Sokka had nearly pulled from its socket trying to keep him from falling, and then his hand disappeared, too. His swords clattered against the ground, knocked loose from his belt as the ground rose up around him.

He was sinking, he was sinking. Sokka flinched forward and grabbed a fistful of Zuko’s shirt, clumsy and weak-gripped from the prickling numbness, closed his good hand on Zuko’s uninjured elbow, like holding on could keep the ground from swallowing him. Sokka’s gaze flew, frantic, to Sensu’s grim face.

“Stop!” Sokka shouted. “Stop, what are you doing?”

At the same time Zuko cursed, and snapped, “Let go of me!”

Sensu expression tightened, gaze flicking between their faces.

“That girl called you Brother,” he said. It wasn’t a question, but he gave Sokka a longer look, “and you knew?”

“We’re not with her,” Sokka said immediately. “Just let him go.”

“So you can go fool the next person?” Sensu asked.

Zuko met his eye defiantly, like he wasn’t one little shift of Sensu’s stance away from disappearing into the ground, like he could do anything with one arm free, other than shoot a final fireball before the earth swallowed him up. By the way he was clenching his fist, that might actually be his plan. Sokka climbed to his feet, stepping between them before either of them could make a move.

“He saved you,” Sokka said. “You’d all have been captured by the Fire Nation, without us. You owe him.”

“What, that girl was going to capture all of us?” Tai asked.

“That girl wouldn’t have even broken a sweat!” Sokka snapped back. Tai scoffed, but Sensu’s eyes just narrowed.

He considered Sokka, and if he’d ever been friendly with them, if he’d ever considered Sokka a warrior, he had clearly changed his mind. All Sokka could see in his expression was a deep distrust, enough that Sokka’s hand itched for his boomerang, almost compulsively.

He couldn’t fight this many people, especially not benders, but he would try if he had to.

Sensu stomped. Sokka flinched and tried to grab Zuko before he could pull him down—

He caught Zuko around the waist, instead, before he could fall, as the ground finally spit him out.

“Get out of here,” Sensu said.

Sokka quickly knelt down to pick up Zuko’s swords, sliding them awkwardly back into their sheath. He didn’t need to be told twice, and he wasn’t going to wait around for them to change their minds. Still, Sokka hesitated, and turned back to try and catch his eye.

“Thank—” The rest of the word was swallowed in a crack of stone, as the ground rose up between them, covering both of their retreats. Sokka stared at the stone wall until Zuko tugged a little on Sokka’s sleeve. That got him moving, back toward the cliff that Zuko had jumped down from. He stumbled a little, feeling shaky, heartbeat still feathering in his chest. Azula’s friends had already started to climb down, and stupid tank was sinking to the bottom of the swollen river, but they shouldn’t risk waiting around for Azula to catch her breath, or find a way across the gap for round two.

“Is Beaky—?” Sokka asked. Zuko pointed toward the trees at the top of the ridge.

“She’s up there,” Zuko said.

He rolled his shoulder, stiffly, and when he grabbed onto the first hand hold Sokka could see that it was hurting. There wasn’t any way to go around, though, so Sokka just let him go first, and stuck close enough that he’d be able to catch him if his arm couldn’t hold on. Sokka’s own arm was still prickling, but it was mostly back to normal, otherwise.

The silence was deafening on their way to fetch Beaky. Zuko climbed onto her back, intent on putting some distance between them and Azula and the Earthbenders. Hopefully they would distract each other enough that they would lose track of Zuko and Sokka as they made their own escape.

Sokka paused when he spotted another clump of white hair, hooked on the brambles growing over the path. He picked it up hesitantly. Zuko was staring at it with a stony expression. It was impossible to tell whether he was thinking about hunting Aang, or… Sokka didn’t know. He tucked the piece of fur into his pocket, too much of a coward to just ask, and Zuko silently nudged Beaky to follow the trail.

It wasn’t fast, at first, with Sokka walking behind them on foot, making sure they didn’t leave a flying bison or ostrich horse trail for Azula to follow. There wasn’t a path, so it was too rough for Beaky to navigate easily, and Zuko winced at every jolt as she scrabbled for safe ground.

It wasn’t long before Sokka’s pockets were stuffed with flying bison fur. He could hear running water hidden somewhere deeper in the forest. It felt like almost as soon as he noticed it and nudged Beaky in that direction, the mountain gave way abruptly to a flat clearing with no trees. They were standing at the edge of a wide riverbank. Sokka glanced around, but there was no sign of the fur trail in either direction.

His heart sank, when he realized what must have happened. Maybe Sokka should have been proud of them for realizing that Appa’s shedding was going to make them easy to track, but all he could do was fight back crushing disappointment, as he stared up and down the river, into the trees, and saw… nothing.

Sokka pulled the clumps of fur out of his pocket and dropped them into the river, with the rest of his hopes of finding his sister.

Zuko had stopped beside him, hesitant, like he wanted to offer Sokka a hand up like he usually did, but wasn’t sure if it would be accepted.

Sokka knew it was a bad time to stop, that every bit of distance they could put between themselves and Azula could make the difference, but… they could stop to water Beaky, at least. They probably had to. If they were going to be riding to get away from Azula, this might be the only break that any of them got for a while.

“We should rest,” he said. “Just for a few minutes.”

The water was clear and fresh, probably running from a spring further up the mountain. Beaky almost seemed to sense the tension, because she was unusually well behaved, stooping calmly by the river’s edge, turning only briefly to watch Sokka pace around the bank.

Zuko was staring at him, too. Sokka couldn’t decide if the tightness in his chest was from annoyance, or just the adrenaline crash.

“Are you all right?” Zuko asked.

Was he? He flexed his fingers and felt the pins and needles sensation shiver up his arm. It was… fine, probably. The paralysis had worn off even faster than the shirshu venom. Whatever Ty Lee had done to him clearly wasn’t permanent. He could move his arm just fine.

“Yeah,” Sokka said.

He was fine. Physically, he was fine. So, he was fine.

Zuko caught his arm. He’d been cradling his own elbow, but he let go and winced as he did. His touch was so light, it would have been easy to pull away. Sokka squeezed his eyes shut, and then took a breath, and then another, and another—

“You’re not,” Zuko said. “You’re not fine.”

“They didn’t hurt me,” he said. “They barely touched me.”

“I didn’t ask if they hurt you. I asked if you were okay,” Zuko said. “You—aren’t you angry?

Sokka scoffed. Yeah, of course he was, but not like—Zuko looked like he was bracing himself for a fight, and Sokka was too tired for that. He didn’t even think he wanted that, anyway, because yelling at Zuko wasn’t going to make him feel better, it was just going to make him feel more terrible than he already did, because…he just felt stupid, mostly, for thinking they were friends when Zuko was still treating him like an enemy he needed to hide things from. He was... frustrated, before, and now he was just confused, because Sokka told him to leave but Zuko had still come back.

Sokka took a breath.

“Why didn’t you just tell me?” Sokka asked. “It’s been weeks, Zuko. Was it—do you not trust me?”

“I trust you,” Zuko said. “Now I do. I… didn’t, before. At the beginning. I didn’t want you to have a weapon. But then we started traveling together, and you seemed—I don’t know. You never gave us away, with Song. You could have.”

“I wouldn’t—”

“I know,” Zuko said quickly. “I know you wouldn’t. And I started thinking maybe—but you’d gotten so angry about the stealing,” Sokka scoffed, and Zuko winced, “I know. I was a coward. I just didn’t know how to tell you.”

“You’re such a jerk,” Sokka said.

“I know,” Zuko said. “I just—” He opened his mouth, like he was searching for an excuse, and then just shook his head. “No,” he said, almost to himself, “I know.”

Sokka searched his face. He looked as uneasy as he had back in the camp, after they’d finished sparring. It was a refreshing change of pace from defensive and grumpy, at least. He tried to decide if Zuko looked sorry enough, but mostly he just looked… more nervous than an apology warranted, probably.

“You were going to give it back to me after we finished sparring. When you said you had something for me. That’s where you went,” Sokka said.

“Yeah,” Zuko said.

“Well,” Sokka said, “that’s something, at least.”

Zuko hesitated, caught halfway through a nod like he wasn’t sure if he wanted to agree or not. He looked… absolutely miserable, holding his arm against this chest, with a barely-suppressed wince, like even the motion of breathing was pulling on it wrong.

He… probably was sorry, which didn’t really make up for anything, but definitely made Sokka feel better, even if a not-small part of that was pettiness.

He wasn’t petty or mad enough to be glad Zuko was hurting, though.

He sighed, scrubbing a hand over his eyes.

“It’s really hard to be angry at you when you look all sad and pathetic,” Sokka said.

“I’m not,” Zuko grumbled.

“Then again, I probably looked all sad and pathetic, too, when you pulled me out of the ocean, and you still stole my stuff.”

“I’m—” Zuko said.

“You’re sorry, yeah, you mentioned,” Sokka said, and Zuko’s mouth snapped shut. Sokka sighed. “Come on. Let’s find some cover, at least. Let me help you with your arm.”

Zuko frowned. “We should keep going.”

“In a bit,” Sokka promised. A few minutes wouldn’t hurt.

Zuko nodded hesitantly. He even let Sokka take Beaky’s lead, urging her to follow him into the trees, just a little up-river from where they’d come out, until they found a spot that at least couldn’t be seen from the banks. It’d be too risky to start a fire and settle in, but Sokka paused to lay out the tarp, at least, and gestured for Zuko to sit.

He grabbed Zuko’s bag, half expecting to be snapped at… but of course, Zuko wasn’t hiding anything now, so it didn’t matter when Sokka dug around for the change of clothes that he knew Zuko had—the one with the sash that was supposed to hold the robe closed, but was going to be the next-best-thing to a real sling.

It was a little short, but better than Zuko trying and failing to hold his arm still and ride an ostrich horse at the same time. Sokka was pretty sure he’d only strained it, but the last thing they needed was for Zuko to get careless and push himself until he actually needed a doctor, instead of just needing a little rest.

Sokka was just finishing off the knot, when Zuko’s breath hitched. Sokka snatched his hand back, worried he’d hurt him, but Zuko just shook his head.

“I saw him,” Zuko said, almost too quiet to hear. Sokka’s fingers stilled on the knot.

“Who?” Sokka asked.

“The Avatar,” he said, nodding back toward the river. “I saw the bison. They were flying that way.”

Sokka stared at him.

So... he was right. Azula had been chasing Aang, and the trail hadn’t been an old one. Sokka had just missed them. Disappointment twisted in his stomach like a knife, knowing that they’d been so close, and Sokka had lost their trail, and now all he had was a direction that might not even be their real route, if they knew Azula was pursuing them, and they were trying to lose her.

What he didn’t get was… if Zuko had seen them, then what was he still doing here?

“You should go,” Zuko insisted, when Sokka didn’t say anything. “If you leave now—”

“I’ll never catch up,” Sokka said. “Especially not if they still think Azula is hunting them.”

“You could still go,” Zuko said, but this time it wasn’t as much of an order. It was more hesitant, the way he’d been earlier, knowing Sokka was angry about his lies, and… maybe that’s what this was, a peace offering. If Sokka was still angry, he could go. Zuko would probably even let him take Beaky with him, the self-sacrificing jerk, even though Zuko clearly loved Beaky way more than Sokka did, and Sokka barely even knew how to ride her.

“I could,” Sokka said, and made no move to leave.

“I wanted to follow them,” Zuko admitted, and he sounded caught between frustration and confusion, like he couldn’t understand why he hadn’t done just that.

Sokka… did understand. At least, he thought he did, even if that thought felt a little too big for his chest right now.

He hesitated, but when he put a hand on Zuko’s good shoulder, he didn’t pull away. All it took was the lightest pressure, before Zuko was leaning into him, enough that Sokka could wrap his arms, tentatively, around Zuko’s back, his wrapped arm pinned between them both. He seemed even smaller than normal, with Zuko sitting and Sokka kneeling above him, his forehead pressed into Sokka’s chest, but more than that…

Zuko relaxed, just a little, at the unspoken forgiveness, and it was only after that that Sokka realized he’d been bracing himself the entire time, puffed up like an angry hen cat, trying to make itself look tougher than it was.

“Yeah, well,” Sokka said. “Wanting is the easy part, I guess.”

Zuko huffed a laugh. “You’ve spent too much time with Uncle,” he said.

“Maybe,” Sokka said. He paused, then, “Thanks for coming back for me, instead.”

Zuko’s shoulders shook with the words, with a sharp breath that might have been a gasp or a sob, Sokka couldn’t tell, because his chin was pressed to the top of Zuko’s head. He felt him nod, once, a tense motion.

“Yeah,” he said. “Of course. You would have, too.”

“I would have,” Sokka agreed.

Sokka sat back on his heels, one hand still resting on Zuko’s shoulder. He cleared his throat a little awkwardly, and then realized that he was only going to make it more awkward if he acknowledged it was awkward. Also, Zuko was looking pretty tense, like he still wasn’t sure if he was forgiven, and maybe a little like he was embarrassed. Sokka had just hugged Zuko, and Zuko had let him. He almost felt like he should laugh, tease him about getting soft on him. For some reason, he couldn’t bring himself to.

“Let’s figure out where we’re going next,” Sokka said, mercifully not poking fun. He dug the map out of Zuko’s bag, and then decided—whatever, and sat down right beside him, close enough that Zuko could lean over, a solid warmth against Sokka’s side as he read. Which was fine, because they were friends. They were friends, and nothing had changed. Sokka wouldn’t be weird if it was Aang sitting next to him, so he could manage to not be weird with Zuko, for his own sake if nothing else.

(Sokka didn’t think he could handle the humiliation if Zuko caught on the way Sensu had, and had to put both of them through the mortifying ordeal of Zuko’s awful social skills as he tried to let Sokka down gently. Or... whatever, maybe he’d just get shouty. That would probably be preferable—)

Sokka cleared his throat again, and smoothed the map open over his knees, banishing that thought, because it was not going to be a problem, anyway.

They’d already come this far, so they’d need to take the mountain path down like they’d originally planned, but after that… maybe it would be better to stick to less-traveled roads, at least until they put some distance between them and Azula. Sokka traced the line on the map as he suggested it, and Zuko hummed quietly as he talked.

He was practically resting his head on Sokka’s shoulder. He wasn’t sure if he was even really paying attention, or if he was just too exhausted. Sokka suppressed a smile, and the impulse to make a stupid suggestion that he knew Zuko would say no to normally, just to test whether he was listening. A yes was a yes, and it’d be his own fault for not paying attention...

Beaky raised her head, abruptly, glaring off toward the river. Sokka froze at the same time Zuko did, sensing her unease, and a moment later Sokka heard it too: the sound of footsteps, gravel crunching on the bank.

He rose to his feet in one silent movement, his weapon a reassuring weight in his hand, feeling more confident than he had in weeks now that he had his boomerang back. Zuko tried to stand, too, and Sokka just pressed down on the grip on his shoulder, exasperated, because he was injured—

Zuko glared at him, and Sokka nearly scoffed at the stubborn look on his face. Of course he wasn’t staying here, where it was safe. What was Sokka even thinking?

Sokka kept his footfalls as quiet as possible, with Zuko so silent behind him that Sokka wasn’t even sure if he was following. He couldn’t afford to check, now. Not when someone had come after them, after all, one of Azula’s people, tracking them, or one of Sensu’s scouts…

Sokka nudged a branch aside with the tip of his boomerang, just enough to peek through. He froze. It wasn’t a scout. It was—

“Uncle!” Zuko shouted, right in Sokka’s ear. Iroh didn’t startle, but Sokka saw the flicker of surprise, and then real relief that washed over him. Sokka could relate. It was like all of the tension went out of him in an instant, seeing Zuko’s uncle standing there, a modest bag over one shoulder, like he was just out for an afternoon stroll.

He looked good—better than they did, probably. Zuko stumbled out of the tree cover. He stopped just short of his uncle, but Iroh didn’t hesitate to grab his sleeve and pull him in the last few steps.

For a second Zuko just stood stiffly in his arms, and Sokka might have thought that it was his shoulder hurting him, if he hadn’t seen the same posture from Zuko just a bit earlier. He was feeling guilty, unsure what to do about it, and not sure if he was forgiven. After a few seconds, he carefully wrapped his good arm around his uncle’s shoulders, relaxing into the hug.

The way Iroh hugged him back, though, fingers gripping almost desperately into the back of Zuko’s robe, made guilt stir between Sokka’s ribs for leaving him behind without a word.

“Uncle,” Zuko said. “Azula is—” Iroh’s mouth turned up into a wry smile.

“I saw her,” he said. That only made Zuko more tense, so he hastily held up a hand. “I do not think she saw me. She was a bit… preoccupied.” Iroh hesitated. He brushed his fingertips over the makeshift sling that Sokka had fashioned for him. “Are you all right?”

“It’s just strained,” Zuko said dismissively. He bristled a little, when Iroh glanced over to Sokka for confirmation. It probably was just strained, though, and Zuko really would be fine, but…

“We’re really happy to see you,” Sokka said, the much less relieving alternatives remaining unspoken, “but we should probably get moving.”

“A good plan, as always,” Iroh said. “You can tell me all about your adventures tonight, over tea… if I’m welcome to join you.”

That last part was very pointedly directed at both of them. Zuko winced.

“I’m sorry, Uncle,” he said hesitantly. “I just… thought I needed to find my own way.”

Iroh hummed, maybe a little judgmentally, which was definitely fair, considering how worried he’d probably been. When he glanced over at Sokka, he splayed his fingers in complete surrender.

“Don’t look at me,” Sokka said. “I wasn’t technically invited either.”

“I had assumed as much, when you didn’t bring anything with you,” Iroh said. “I’m glad to see my nephew hadn’t reverted to his original plan, to ransom you in exchange for the Avatar—”

“I wouldn’t,” Zuko scoffed.

“Zuko,” Sokka interrupted. He patted him on the shoulder, consolingly. “He’s joking.”

Iroh made a sort of skeptical face, so maybe not entirely joking, but luckily Zuko didn’t see it. Sokka thumped him on the back, and Zuko winced, and shot him a glare without any real heat.

“Let’s get going,” Sokka said, “before your sister crawls out of that canyon.”

Chapter Text

Zuko insisted they stop again not far past the mountains, on a high plateau that stood over a dusty, abandoned town. They weren’t likely to run into any stray travelers this far from the main roads. Sokka could see the dusty smudge of the path that had once led through the town, long forgotten and slowly being reclaimed by the stubborn shrubs bursting through the cracks in the ground. It stretched on neglected for miles—clearly there was another path carrying travelers around the dry plateau now that whoever had lived in the decaying village had moved on.

Sokka was happy to take a break, and happier at the possibility of Zuko being willing to take a break, even if he was too stubborn to fully rest. If Azula was trying to follow them, Sokka was fairly certain she’d have lost their their trail at the river, and besides—her tank had been ruined, and she seemed less like the type of person to painstakingly dredge it out of the mud, and more the type to set off for the nearest Fire Nation encampment and commandeer something new. Zuko stopped in front of the dilapidated little house on the cliffside and whirled to face his uncle.

“I need to be able to counter Azula’s lightning,” he demanded.

“No,” Sokka said immediately, before Iroh could even open his mouth to reply. Zuko faltered.

“What do you mean, no?” Zuko asked.

“I mean that’s stupid! The only thing you should be doing when Azula tries to throw lightning at you is running away,” Sokka said.

Zuko’s mouth twisted in frustration. He grabbed Sokka’s elbow heatedly to spin him around.

“How can you say that, when she almost—” Zuko seemed to notice that his voice was rising, taking almost a frantic edge. His eyes widened like he was surprised with himself, and he bit the sentence off with a frustrated sound. He let go, and turned back to his uncle, and when he spoke after another steadying breath, his voice was low but firm. “I have to be better. For next time.”

Iroh just nodded to him with patient understanding. “It’s time to resume your training,” he said.

Sokka didn’t particularly feel like watching Zuko blow himself up with lightning. He’d already seen Azula demonstrating her extra special, extra terrifying brand of jerkbending, and he didn’t particularly need to see it again to devise a strategy against it: namely, stay out of her way, and duck for cover.

Anyway, watching Zuko practice the technique wasn’t going to help Sokka, but what was going to help him was all the delicious meat he was going to catch for their dinner, now that he had his boomerang back for hunting.

So, Zuko and Iroh had set off for a clearing on the edge of the plateau, and Sokka had followed the river back into the woods.

Zuko’s training was either going very well, or very badly, based on the number of distant explosions that had rumbled through the forest all morning. That had been hours ago, though, and Sokka hadn’t heard anything since.

He’d resisted the urge to check on them only because, if it had been going badly, Zuko was bound to be in a bad mood. Sokka wouldn’t be able to do anything to help with that, other than make sure that they at least had something to eat at the end of the day.

Iroh had brought some supplies with him, mostly rice and a few dried fruits and root vegetables, but Sokka had stumbled across a quail grouse nest that morning, so he’d lurked around for the rest of the afternoon waiting for the hen. The distant explosions probably weren’t doing him any favors. He hadn’t seen any signs of life for hours, the trees unsettlingly still now that Zuko had sent everything edible within earshot scattering deeper into the trees.

He was close enough to the edge of the plateau that he could see the abandoned canyon peeking through the trees. It had been a clear morning, but he could see the wind stirring the dust in the distance now, the horizon swelling with green storm clouds. Sokka was chased out of his hiding spot by the first fat drops of rain, mind flashing back to that night in the temple. He wasn’t looking forward to a repeat of that day, so he started his trek back up the mountain with the eggs as an acceptable consolation prize.

The building they were squatting in had definitely seen better days. It sat all alone up on a ridge overlooking a town that was in such obvious disrepair that it made even their pitiful shelter seem luxurious. Sokka wondered whether it was Fire Nation soldiers passing through that had caused the destruction, or whether the village had been abandoned to decay as refugees fled to Ba Sing Se.

Either way, Sokka hadn’t even bothered to go down there and search through the abandoned homes for any supplies left behind. He was pretty sure, by the look of them, that he wouldn’t find anything but dirt and rotten wood.

Sokka shook the water out of his eyes, setting his bag gently inside the door. He crouched down to carefully extract their dinner and the firewood he’d collected. There was a hole in the roof, dripping rain, and a growing puddle of mud in the corner that Sokka had to gingerly step around as he made his way inside. Sokka carefully set the eggs down beside the fire.

He gave Iroh a curious glance, because...

“Where’s Zuko?” Sokka asked. Iroh sighed, and that only worsened the uneasy feeling that was seeping into him. The rain was coming down in earnest now, wind whipping so hard through the canyon that it was slanting into the entrance of their shelter at an angle.

“He stayed behind, to… practice,” Iroh said.

“Well, do you think he’s all right?” Sokka asked. A roll of thunder grumbled in the distance as though to answer him, but Sokka didn’t see the flash. He tried to peer out the doorway into the rain, like Zuko would suddenly appear at the mention of his name—wishful thinking, probably, that Zuko would ever have the good sense to quit just because the weather turned bad.

“I believe he needs some time,” Iroh said simply, “and he would not be pleased to see me.”

Sokka frowned at the rain, at Iroh’s obvious concern, and at the fact that he apparently wasn’t going to do anything about it. He huffed and stalked over to where Zuko had left their bags, raised off the damp ground between a couple of planks of rotting wood that might have once been floorboards.

He yanked the tarp free from where it had wandered back into Zuko’s things. He threw it over his shoulders and head with one hand, and grabbed the lantern with the other.

“I’m going to go get him,” Sokka said, and he was out the door before Iroh could even reply.

Now that the clouds had rolled in, finding Zuko was a lot easier said than done. It was dark enough even with the lantern that a less stubborn person probably would have given up. He didn’t even know where Zuko was, and he was as likely to slip and fall and break his neck as he was to find the path.

Still, Sokka knew where the cliffs that Zuko and Iroh had been practicing on were, and he was going to hope that Zuko was still up there now, probably ignoring the bad weather so that he could keep practicing, like an idiot. Sokka had resolved to at least look, and if he didn’t find him, then he’d think about turning around—

And then he’d heard yelling, or... thought he had, at least, over the storm. It was either shouting, or an angry spirit, or a tree bending under the wind, about ready to fall on Sokka’s head. In defiance of his better judgement, Sokka headed toward the sound. His heart was thumping from the climb, he told himself, as he was forced to pull himself up a slope that he’d definitely been able to walk up, earlier, but was now so slick with mud that he had to awkwardly fold the tarp and the lantern under one arm to free up his hands for the climb.

Sokka’s heart sank when he made it to the top to find… nothing but dark stone and pooling water. He whirled around, squinting against the rain. In his first glance, he nearly missed him. Zuko was sitting so still, legs folded, staring at something in the distance that neither of them could see through the dark. Sokka was already standing beside him by the time Zuko noticed him, footsteps covered by the hammer of rain against the plateau.

Zuko was sitting in a miserable, curled up ball, soaked to the skin. He startled a little, and Sokka held up a hand in apology, hesitating. He’d been expecting… he didn’t know, actually. Maybe he’d been expecting to find Zuko stubbornly running through katas, or at least more of that yelling that he was now fairly certain had been Zuko, after all. After gearing himself up for ‘frustrated, angry Zuko’, Sokka didn’t know what to make of this.

Sokka frowned at him, crouching to wipe the mud from his palms, for lack of a better option, on the stone under his feet.

“How did you even get up here with one arm?” Sokka asked. “Where’s your sling?”

Zuko huffed and gestured vaguely with his good arm. Sokka edged over and glanced down the other slope. He could barely see the scrap of sodden fabric from here, soaked through and ground thoroughly into the mud at the base of the hill.

“Well that’s… not doing you any good down there,” Sokka said.

Zuko didn’t respond. He didn’t even glare at him like usual. Sokka sighed and moved back over to where Zuko was sitting. He got impossibly more tense as Sokka laid a light hand on his good shoulder.

“Come on, buddy,” Sokka said. “You gotta get out of this rain.”

“Go away,” Zuko snapped. Sokka frowned at him, and sat down on the empty stone beside him. He put the lantern at his knee, even though it had burned down enough in the storm that he couldn’t see much by it, and reached around Zuko so he could hold the tarp over both of them.

Zuko stared at him, and then turned his face away into his knee like the stubborn jerk he was. Sokka nudged him and shifted a little closer, partly because the wind and the rain were so loud that he wasn’t sure if he could hear him with Zuko’s face turned away, and partly because even through the tarp Sokka was already soaked to the skin in cold rain, and Zuko was back to portable-furnace duties.

Zuko grudgingly took the other side of the tarp so that Sokka didn’t have to reach over him. Sokka didn’t need to lean into him now that he wasn’t holding the tarp, but Zuko didn’t shove him off. After a second of hesitation, Sokka rested his arm over Zuko’s shoulder, and when he still didn’t push him away he relaxed into the warmth.

“So,” Sokka said, drawing out the vowel just to see if it would get him a reaction. Zuko remained stubborn as ever, so Sokka gave him a gentle nudge. “I take it jerkbending didn’t go very well.”

Zuko huffed angrily. For a long moment Sokka wondered if all he was going to get was more stubborn silence.

“I can’t do it. I don’t know what I expected,” Zuko said. “Azula’s already mastered lightning bending, and I can’t even—nothing ever goes right.”

He grimaced almost as soon as he’d said it, like he was already beating himself up in his head for complaining. Sokka nudged him again, trying to distract from that thought, because Zuko was right. They’d both had a string of bad luck lately, more than worthy of a little complaining.

Sokka definitely wasn’t going to judge if Zuko wanted to vent. He didn’t really believe that Zuko was born unlucky, like he clearly did, but if that was how Zuko wanted to think about it… if he wanted to blame the universe, because he wasn’t ready, maybe, to blame the person—

“Believe me, I know how you feel,” Sokka said. Zuko scoffed, quietly. “What, you think you’re the only person with bad luck?”

Sokka had had more than enough bad luck in the last few weeks to justify wondering what spirit he’d managed to piss off to deserve this. If he was a more superstitious person—and he wasn’t, because that was stupid nonsense and Sokka was better than that—then he might have even entertained the possibility that maybe he was somehow destined for struggle and anguish, and maybe it was somehow his fault. He thought he might even have believed that, if no one had told him otherwise. But Sokka knew by now that there were some things you just couldn’t control, things like your mom dying and your dad leaving, things that were so heavy you could hardly bear to carry them, and that just because they hurt you didn’t mean it was your fault.

(Sokka had hated that, when his mom died, had only barely come to understand it after his dad broke it to them that he was leaving, and there was nothing any of them could do about it, except to be brave.)

“Sometimes it feels like the universe isn’t fair,” Sokka said. “Some people get it easy, or, it seems like they have it easy,” he said, because everything Azula did seemed completely effortless. Sokka had no idea what she did to keep that up, but it was probably as exhausting to maintain as it was terrifying to experience, and demoralizing to be compared to. He glanced at Zuko and the miserable look on his face, deepening at even a glancing mention of his sister.

“And sometimes it’s like… you just can’t catch a break. Like you’re getting picked on, like the universe itself is trying to hurt you,” he said in a rush, because Zuko’s scowl was growing deeper and less patient, and, okay, maybe this wasn’t the most uplifting speech, but that wasn’t the point.

“But maybe it’s like…” Sokka insisted, grasping for the words, “maybe it’s like, when your flying lemur is trying to eat a silver piece, and he really wants it, but he’s just a dumb lemur. You know what’s best for him, and what’s best is for him to not eat… coins...”

Zuko blinked at him, and Sokka trailed off. He hesitated, reconsidering his words, because Zuko was staring at him with a funny expression now, a little like he was waiting to see if Sokka could dig himself any deeper, because somewhere in his rush to reassure him he’d lost the thread of the metaphor, a little, even though it made perfect sense to Sokka.

...but also he was watching Sokka with one corner of his mouth ticked up, almost like... well, if Sokka didn’t know better he might think…

But no, Zuko was just laughing at him.

“Was that supposed to make me feel better?” Zuko asked incredulously.

“What!” Sokka said. “You know what I mean. Sometimes what you thought you wanted isn’t what’s best for you. It’s—”

“You called me a dumb lemur,” Zuko said.

“I should have called you a dumb jerk,” Sokka said. “You know, I could be inside right now. Warm and dry, not—” He shook the tarp a little, and a splash of water that had been pooling in the crease of it dropped onto Zuko’s head. Sokka caught one look at Zuko’s outraged face and cracked up.

“—getting soaked!” Sokka wheezed.

Zuko scowled at him, but Sokka could see the corners of his mouth twitching, like he was trying to hold onto his annoyance, suppressing a smile.

“All I’m saying,” Sokka insisted, smiling crookedly, “is that maybe all of this will end up being for the best, and our dumb lemur brains just can’t see it yet.”

Zuko snorted, looking like he was still a little torn on whether he should be offended or not. Sokka grinned and elbowed him lightly.

“And listen, I’m not gonna say everything happens for a reason, or that we should be thankful or whatever, because that’s stupid,” Sokka said. “I didn’t get swept off that ship for a reason. It just happened, and it sucked. But… if it hadn’t happened, I’d still think you were an evil jerk, you know, instead of a kind-of-funny jerk—”

“It kind of sounds like you’re trying to say bad things happen for a reason,” Zuko said.

“I’m saying…” Sokka said. He shifted over slightly, so he could cross his legs under him, and press his knee into Zuko’s thigh, “we’re here, so let’s make the most of it.”

“Make the most of it,” Zuko grumbled. “Good advice. We’re in the middle of nowhere. What am I supposed to make the most of?”

Sokka sighed dramatically, rolling his eyes.

“Well, I don’t know! Spirits, you’re pessimistic—and that’s saying a lot, coming from me,” Sokka said. “Just... think about it. What do you want?”

Zuko looked at him, then, gold eyes shining in the weak lamplight. A serious calm stole over his face as he considered it. He held Sokka’s gaze for a long time, thinking, or maybe just trying to find the words. There was nothing else but the sound of the rain pounding against the cover over their heads and the beating of his heart. Zuko’s lips parted, just barely, but whatever he was going to say skittered away with the uncertain look that flashed across his face. He turned away, staring out into the storm.

“I don’t know,” Zuko said, so quietly the words were nearly stolen by the wind. For some reason that made a little curl of disappointment flicker through him, there and gone like a wisp of smoke. Sokka sighed, like he’d been holding his breath.

“That’s okay,” Sokka murmured, squeezing Zuko’s hand. “You’ll figure it out.”

Climbing up with one arm was, apparently, a lot easier than climbing down, which was all around terrible for Sokka’s anxiety. His fingers were a little clumsy with the cold. Between juggling the tarp and the lantern and trying to find himself good handholds, he was tired, and sore, and his knuckles were scraped by the time he reached the bottom of the cliff. He was pretty sure he was going to have permanent half-moon marks from his nails anxiously digging into his palms, as he watched Zuko climb down after him, with none of the grace that Sokka was used to seeing from him. Zuko paused to pick up the muddy sling before they left. He seemed a bit unsteady when he rose again, clutching the fabric in his fingers.

The tarp really wasn’t doing much by the time they’d reached the bottom of the cliff, so Sokka just gave it up. He was used to getting rained on by now. Besides, they’d be dry in a few minutes, as soon as they got back to the fire.

Zuko trailed after him slowly, but maybe he was just sore from training, or stiff from sitting so long out in the cold rain. He would probably just get annoyed if he pointed it out, so Sokka hung back a little to match his pace instead. They followed the firelight back down the cliff. Iroh had propped the door open with the bottom half of a shattered pot, and Sokka kicked it aside as they stumbled, dripping, over the threshold.

“You were gone for quite a while,” Iroh said. He took one look at them, soaked and muddy from the climb, and hummed. He sounded less disapproving, and more resigned. Sokka might have felt guilty about making him worry, if he wasn’t absolutely positive that Zuko had made him deal with much worse, for much longer. Like… for his whole life, probably.

“I’ll make some tea,” Iroh said.

“I don’t want any,” Zuko said. He dropped the sling in the entryway with a wet splat and added, “I‘m not thirsty.”

“It will warm you up,” Iroh said easily, ignoring the protest.

Zuko picked up the hem of his shirt to wring it out, revealing a strip of skin. Sokka stared at it for a moment before he caught himself and forced himself to focus on his own soaked clothes.

Except… that was weird, actually, because why would Zuko do that when he could just steam himself dry like he always did—

Sokka glanced back over, frowning. Zuko looked a bit unsteady, his hands shaking—from the cold? He was a firebender, he was alway warm. He’d even told Sokka about swimming under the ice in the North Pole, so he shouldn’t care about a chilly rain.

“Are you okay?” Sokka asked.

“I don’t…” Zuko said faintly, and the warning bell in the back of Sokka’s mind started chiming even louder. Iroh glanced over at them both, just as suspicious as Sokka at his tone. “I’m…” He hesitated, and his brow furrowed like he was staring at something distant. “I don’t… feel right—”

The hand resting on the wall slipped, and Zuko dropped like a stone.

Sokka only barely managed to catch him, only because he was ready for it, awkward and half-under his injured arm. He pulled Sokka down with him, his dead weight dragging him onto his knees, but at least he managed to keep him from braining himself on the floor. Zuko grunted in pain when the motion wrenched his arm, and Sokka pulled his hand back guiltily.

“Zuko?” Sokka asked.

Was he hurt worse than they’d thought? No, that didn’t make sense. They’d have noticed before now. Zuko was stubborn, but he wasn’t—well, he was kind of stupid, sometimes, but he’d have said something, Sokka was sure.

He slid a hand up underneath his head. He was warm. Zuko was always warm, but they’d been sitting out in the lashing rain, and this felt wrong, clammy and too flushed.

“What’s happening?” Sokka asked nonsensically. Stupid. As though Iroh could possibly know more than he did. Iroh’s hand fell on Sokka’s shoulder, steady, and he turned frantically to look at him, “Is he—?”

“Let’s move somewhere more comfortable,” Iroh said softly, and abruptly Sokka realized that Zuko was still slumped half in his lap, breathing hard against his stomach. He nodded stiffly and let Iroh help him to the bedroll.

They built the fire up until it was almost unbearably hot, and piled Zuko with blankets. Sokka felt useless, and stupid, hovering over Iroh’s shoulder as he tucked the blankets around him.

“Uncle,” Zuko said. His fingers curled around the front of Iroh’s robe, and Iroh had to push back on his good shoulder to keep him from trying to sit up.

“Rest, Zuko,” he said.

“I’m fine,” he mumbled. It must have sounded weak even to his own ears, because he grimaced and stubbornly insisted, “Uncle, I’m fine.”

Iroh frowned, one hand resting on Zuko’s forehead.

“This is not a natural sickness,” Iroh said. “You have been at war with your own mind and body. You are going through a metamorphosis—”

Zuko sighed and closed his eyes.

“That’s stupid,” Sokka said. A metamorphosis? What did that even mean? “It’s not a spiritual anything. He was out in the rain!”

The look that Iroh gave him was infinitely patient. Sokka recognized it, immediately, as the look Gran Gran would give him when he was being particularly stubborn, or a few seconds before she would chase him out of the kitchen with a spoon. Sokka bit back the urge to argue with him. He wasn’t angry at Iroh. He wasn’t angry at anyone, he was just…

Iroh rested a hand against Zuko’s forehead. He didn’t open his eyes, but he tilted his head into the touch, just slightly.

Sokka didn’t know if he was even listening anymore, or if he’d already fallen asleep, but…

“It was just a little rain,” Sokka insisted, stubbornly. “So you’re gonna be fine.”

With Zuko wrapped up in the bedroll, Sokka folded up the tarp instead—the material was thin, but the fire was warm enough to be comfortable, anyway. Iroh had tried to offer him his bedroll, but Sokka had slept in worse places, really, and he wasn’t about to make Iroh sleep on the ground.

Maybe that was why Sokka only managed a few hours of sleep before waking to the soft glow of a burned down fire. He wasn’t certain, at first, what had woken him, if it had been the dying warmth or something else...

But then heard it again, a quiet sound off to his right. Sokka eased himself up onto his elbows. Iroh was still asleep in his own bedroll across the room, but Zuko—

No, he wasn’t awake. Zuko was talking in his sleep, eyes screwed closed. Sokka eased out from under the folded tarp. He rested a hand on Zuko’s arm and slid down to rest his fingers around Zuko’s wrist, but hesitated to go further.

“Zuko,” Sokka whispered. The sound of his voice didn’t wake him. Zuko just curled further in on himself, and the look on his face made Sokka’s heart sink, “it’s just a dream. You’re okay.”

“I’m sorry,” Zuko mumbled, but it was clear just from the way his expression twisted that he wasn’t talking to him. He didn’t know what else to do, so he just tucked the blankets up more securely around his shoulders. He brushed his thumb over Zuko’s wrist. He wasn’t sure if the touch would be welcome, or if it would make things worse. It was hard to tell with him tossing restlessly, but he didn’t shy away. Sokka shushed him as he tried to murmur something else.

Zuko was just talking in his sleep, and Sokka pointedly didn’t listen.

(He wasn’t saying anything that Sokka hadn’t already begun to suspect on his own, but it felt wrong to listen when Zuko didn’t mean to say it. He’d decide to tell him himself, or he wouldn’t, and until then Sokka was very good at pretending not to hear).

Slowly, Sokka laced his fingers through Zuko’s, holding on gently enough that he could pull away if he wanted to. It didn’t matter. He didn’t wake, didn’t even seem to notice the touch at all, except…

“You’re okay. I’m here,” Sokka said, quiet reassurances, holding on until his breathing began to slow again.

Sokka woke again in the morning to Iroh draping his discarded blanket over his shoulders. He hummed, half asleep and too tired to thank him properly. Iroh touched Zuko’s forehead lightly, brushed his fingers gently over his hair. And then, inexplicably, he rested his hand lightly on the back of Sokka’s head. He didn’t say anything for a long moment, while Sokka blinked sleepily at him.

“You rest,” he decided. “I’ll make tea.”

Something brushed the edge of his wolf tail, feather light. Sokka’s head jerked up, startled, and the hand drew guiltily away. Sokka blinked away the lingering haze of sleep. Zuko was looking at him. His eyes were fever-bright, honey-gold in the low lamplight.

Sokka held his breath, leaning in slightly. Zuko had woken up a couple times during the night, sort of, but he hadn’t been all there.

“Hey,” Sokka said. “You with us?”

Zuko huffed and his eyes fluttered closed again for long enough that Sokka wondered if he was just going to fall back asleep. He sighed again, like he’d been considering the same thing and was frustrated with himself for it, and opened his eyes with obvious reluctance.

“Thirsty,” Zuko croaked.

Sokka hesitated a moment, and then leaned forward to slide a hand behind Zuko’s back to help him lean up. He still had a cup of water beside him from the last time Zuko had woken. He hadn’t been lucid, then, and he’d spilled more on Iroh’s sleeve than he’d swallowed, but it was still half-full.

“Where’s...?” Zuko asked.

He was panting a little from the effort of sitting up. Sokka helped him with the cup, then pressed gently against his chest and urged him to lay back down. Even that little motion seemed to exhaust him. Worry twisted in Sokka’s stomach. He looked terrible. The last time Sokka had been this sick… he actually couldn’t even remember what had happened, he’d been so out of it. He’d just felt tired, laid down for a nap, and woken days later with a frog in his mouth.

“I’ll give you one guess,” Sokka said.

The corner of Zuko’s mouth quirked. “Making tea?” he asked.

“Nonstop, since you got sick,” Sokka said. “He went to get more water.”

“He’s worried,” Zuko said.

“Do you want me to go get him for you?” Sokka asked.

“It’s okay,” he said.

Sokka had been really worried, but even seeing Zuko awake and lucid enough to talk wasn’t doing much to ease his mind. He looked terrible and sweaty and exhausted, and still that little quirk of lips made Sokka’s stomach flip over, because he apparently had no self preservation, and was too far gone to be saved.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, trying to keep his voice casual, so Zuko wouldn’t know what he was thinking, or pick up on just how worried he’d been.

Zuko made a stubborn face, and Sokka just chuckled and patted him on the shoulder before he could insist he was fine, as obvious a lie as that was. He was clearly exhausted, already fighting sleep.

“It’s okay if you’re tired,” Sokka said. “I’m sure he’d rather you rest. He’s—we’re worried.”

“I’ll be okay,” Zuko said.

“I know,” Sokka said immediately, and probably not very convincingly, from the way Zuko frowned at him.

“I’ve been sicker than this, before,” Zuko insisted. “My—when my face. I was… close, for a while. And that was—that was worse than this, so...”

Zuko trailed off, tentatively. Something like horror churned his stomach at how easily Zuko recounted nearly dying, and how calmly he was comparing that to his condition now. Sokka was definitely not doing a good job of keeping his dismay off his face, because Zuko’s frown deepened guiltily.

“That was supposed to make you feel better,” Zuko said helplessly. “That I… won’t die. Easily.”

Sokka cleared his throat, trying to get himself under control.

“It…” Nope, he was absolutely not under control. He tried again, “Well, that’s—good. I would rather you didn’t. Die easily, I mean.”

Zuko huffed.

“Sure,” he agreed, like that was something he could offer.

Sokka cleared his throat again. Zuko brushed his thumb over the back of his hand, so carefully gentle, as though Sokka was the one who needed the care. A reassuring ripple of warmth followed the trail of his touch.

“I should let you sleep,” Sokka said, but didn’t actually make any attempt to move.

“You...” Zuko said, and then trailed off. The quiet stretched for several seconds before he finally managed, “You can stay. If you’re tired.”

“Do you want me to stay?” Sokka asked.

Zuko stared at him for long enough that Sokka wasn’t sure he’d understood him, or if he was too out of it to follow the question. Then, finally, Zuko sighed through his nose.

“Do what you want,” he said quietly.

“Okay,” Sokka said. “I want to stay.”

Zuko blinked at him, and then started to push the blanket back. Sokka put a hand on his shoulder, in case he was trying to get up… but no, he was just shifting over a little on the bedroll, making space.

“Zuko, I’m fine, you don’t need to…” Sokka said.

Zuko just slid over a few more stubborn inches, and then closed his eyes like it was the most exhausting thing he’d ever done. Sokka huffed a laugh. At least he was feeling, if not better, well enough to be annoying.

“Okay, okay,” Sokka said, before Zuko could demonstrate just how stubborn he could be. Zuko hummed, satisfied, but didn’t open his eyes as Sokka quietly slipped into the spot he’d made for him. The blankets were even more warm than usual, except now that just made worry prickle at the back of his mind. Iroh hadn’t seemed too concerned, even though Zuko was flushed, running a lot hotter than Sokka had ever seen anyone get even with a fever. It was a firebender thing, he’d said, and normal, but… that didn’t make Sokka worry any less.

Sokka reached over to drag the tarp closer so that he could bunch it up into a lumpy, makeshift pillow. Even once he’d settled, he couldn’t bring himself to close his eyes. Zuko had already slipped back into sleep, and Sokka watched the slow, even rise and fall of his chest instead, feeling calmer than he had in hours, until the heaviness of his eyelids dragged him down to sleep, too.

He woke the next morning with only the barest threads of dawn peeking through the cracked shutters. Sokka could feel where their arms touched that the near unbearable heat radiating off Zuko had broken sometime while they slept. Sokka watched him quietly, still for one queer moment and feeling strangely like he was on the edge of a dream. He brushed his thumb over the stray hairs drooping over Zuko’s forehead, and Zuko sighed softly under the touch. Sokka sighed too, rolled over under the loop of Zuko’s arm, and went back to sleep.

Zuko got better.

Of course he did. It wasn’t like Sokka was worried if he would, because it was just a little rain, and it was fine. He’d just been worried... in general. Even though Zuko was better, Iroh suggested they stay an extra day anyway, before they moved on.

A man needs his rest, Iroh had said, and Zuko had rolled his eyes, exasperated, like it was something he’d heard a thousand times before and was sick of hearing. Sokka couldn’t help but laugh, but he waved him off when Zuko shot him a puzzled look. He was a lot less resistant to Iroh’s advice than he pretended to be, considering that the first night on the raft, Zuko had said the same thing to Sokka.

Maybe that was why Zuko only grumbled a little about resting for an extra day, or about Sokka insisting on keeping him company so he didn’t get restless and wander off. He didn’t even look annoyed as Sokka chattered at his side, their knees pressed together through the layer of blankets.

They couldn’t stay here forever. The weather had cleared, and the rain had wet down the dry and distant grasslands so that the visibility stretched for miles and miles. If Sokka climbed to the very top of the plateau, he could just see the thin line of a trade road, dotted with people like fruit ants marching across the horizon. That many people could only mean they were getting close to another city. If Zuko’s fancy stolen map was to be trusted, they were only a few days out from the junction that would take them anywhere on the continent—down to Laoling, back toward Omashu, further toward the eastern shores, or straight on to Ba Sing Se.

The Misty Palms Oasis was kind of a dump.

Sokka supposed it wasn’t that bad, but from the way it had been drawn on the map, and the way it had been pitched on the few signposts they’d spotted warning them away from the edge of the Si Wong Desert, he’d kind of expected more… oasis. And palms. And mist.

It wasn’t even green, just a dry and dusty town that didn’t seem all that much better than the desert it was supposedly refuge from. Well actually, the sparse trees technically could have been palm trees for all he knew—they were too dry and sad-looking to really tell, considering their depressing lack of leaves and ashy drought-dried bark, and Sokka had never been anywhere where palms were particularly common, so he wasn’t really an expert on the subject.

Still, Iroh seemed happy when they’d finally spotted the dusty little smudge of the oasis on the road ahead. He hadn’t given them the full details, other than to explain that he had a friend or two nearby who could help them now that they were nearing an end to their journey—Full Moon Bay, and Ba Sing Se beyond that. It was strange to finally have a real destination in mind, instead of just an abstract goal to escape the coasts, or Sokka’s vague goal to find his sister.

Sokka knew they couldn’t wander forever, and anyway, maybe this would work in his favor. Ba Sing Se was huge. Even if Aang and Katara didn’t pass through the city, he’d at least be able to take advantage of the Earth Kingdom’s carrier pigeon shrikes to try to get a message to them. After all, Ba Sing Se was the capital city, with all the infrastructure and resources to connect with the rest of the continent. They must have ways to efficiently contact the rest of the Earth Kingdom’s constituent states to coordinate the war effort, which meant they might just be able to help him contact Aang, too.

The inn didn’t look all that different from the rest of the town from the outside, but there were a surprising number of people filling the tables and the seats along the bar… although, maybe it wasn’t that surprising. After all, it didn’t look like there was much to do around here besides sit inside and drink with your friends. Sokka was a little curious how Iroh had friends this far into the Earth Kingdom mainland, in this dusty little town no less, but Iroh had been suspiciously cryptic any time that Sokka had tried to ask.

Sokka cast a longing look at the bar, where the bartender was slicing fruit and into icy bowls, but Iroh only hesitated in the doorway for a moment before he spotted the person they’d come here to meet, and he was much more interested in what this guy’s deal was than a fruity drink.

Sokka listened to them exchange their weird little greeting with a curious look, but Zuko lost interest basically as soon as the Pai Sho board came out, groaning about Iroh gambling instead of doing something useful.

Huh. It didn’t even look like they were playing the game, just laying tiles down seemingly at random. It was almost like they were playing a different game entirely than the one that Iroh had taught Sokka on the raft…

Sokka glanced away for a moment, and realized that Zuko had stomped off somewhere between their greeting and Iroh opening with the White Lotus gambit. Sokka cast one last distracted glance at the board, then sighed and gave in to the urge to follow.

Luckily, Sokka was an expert at tracking Zuko by now. He hadn’t made it very hard for him, with clear footprints in the sand leading away from the tavern. Sokka followed them where they tracked around the side of the building—he paused to pat Beaky on the nose on his way past—and then up to the edge of the town.

It was a little hard to spot Zuko sitting up on the top of a slow rise past the oasis, where the light didn’t quite reach. The slope overlooked the edge of the dry ground stretching out into the Si Wong Desert, small dunes gathering at the base. The ground shifted underfoot as he climbed up, and Sokka made a face at the sand rattling around in the toe of his boot. He shook his foot a little, and then gave it up for a lost cause and plopped down into the sand next to him. Zuko was sitting with his elbow in his lap, still sore but no longer hurting him. He barely spared him a glance other than to brush a bit of the sand Sokka had kicked up off his pant leg.

“They’ll probably be done soon,” Sokka said placatingly. Normal Pai Sho games could take hours to play, especially if both players were equally skilled, but with how quickly they’d been laying tiles down, it didn’t look like the match they were playing would take much time at all. Zuko glanced over at him, and then away again just as quickly.

“I don’t mind waiting,” Zuko said. He raked his fingers through the sand and then let the grains sift through, but it was an absent gesture, like there was something else on his mind. Which was fair—they’d come a really long way, and his uncle was being more cryptic than usual. They both trusted him, at least, so the secrecy wasn’t a big deal, even if it made Sokka burn up with curiosity. Zuko, meanwhile, seemed like he couldn’t care less about his uncle’s mysteries, approaching each one with the same impatient annoyance he brought to every one of his abused metaphors.

The wind kicked up then, sending a little eddy of sand and dust swirling down the slope to join the dune at the base. He shivered and tucked his hands under his armpits.

“Isn’t the desert supposed to be hot?” Sokka asked.

“You sure complain about the cold a lot for someone from the South Pole,” Zuko said mildly, but he shifted a little closer, anyway.

“Yeah, well,” Sokka grumbled, “the clothes in the South are actually high quality, not,” Sokka plucked at the edge of his thready robe, “one stiff breeze away from unraveling.”

Zuko hummed, maybe in agreement, maybe just used to Sokka’s complaining by now.

He followed Zuko’s gaze to see what he was looking at. There was nothing out there but sand and stars, stretching endless and empty as far as the horizon, without a single town or campfire to break up the darkness blanketed dunes. Up on the top of the hill, the rise of the slope behind them blocked some of the light from the oasis. The stars were beautiful, more than they’d ever been able to see before, broken up by the light of their campfires and the tree cover all along their trek across the Earth Kingdom. Just looking at it made him homesick, with the wind biting his cheeks and the stars as bright as they were on the tundra. It didn’t look quite the same, but he almost could have imagined it was.

He glanced over and found Zuko watching him. He must have been able to tell what Sokka was thinking, because he leaned over and bumped their shoulders lightly, a thoughtful frown tugging the corner of his mouth. Sokka shrugged. It was fine. He was used to homesickness by now.

Zuko nodded and turned away again, and Sokka took the opportunity to just look at him. He’d clearly gotten some sun over the course of their travels, and he looked tired, but… good. Even the scar looked less harsh without Zuko scowling at him all the time. It was just another part of him, like his gold eyes, or his decidedly less stupid hair, and Sokka liked it for that if nothing else. He wondered, idly, what Zuko would see on his face, if he looked.

But Zuko didn’t look, and that was fine, too. Sokka forced his gaze down to his hands, instead, and dug his fingers into the sand. He let it run through his fingers, tracking lazy lines down the slope.

Sokka took a breath. He… wasn’t even really sure what he was about to say, only that he was having a hard time tugging his gaze away from Zuko’s face in the starlight, and the easy quiet and the warm press of Zuko’s shoulder against his was making him feel reckless—

A loud crash and shouting cut him off, saving him from himself, and Zuko leapt to his feet before he could even fully react.

The sound had come from the direction of the tavern, and now a mix of shouting voices were carrying over the sand. Zuko was already running back in that direction by the time that Sokka scrambled to follow him. He skidded down the slope and ran to where Beaky was tied, just as Iroh and the pai sho player burst through the doors.

“What happened? Is it—” Sokka started to ask, but Zuko just pushed him to follow, so apparently they were running now and asking questions later.

He could see a fight brewing inside the bar behind the half-doors, still swinging wildly in Iroh’s wake. One of the men spun toward him, putting a commendable amount of follow-through into the task of throwing another brawler through a table. His gaze lit on Sokka’s, and Sokka could practically see the gears turning in his head as he realized that the people they were brawling over were getting away. He ducked back around the side of the building with the rest of them.

“We’ve had a very productive game,” Iroh said pleasantly, like he wasn’t being chased by an entire bar full of angry people. Sokka shot Zuko a harried look, but he only looked vaguely exasperated, and it struck him all at once that maybe Zuko and Iroh were a lot more alike than either of them was willing to admit.

“Hurry up,” Zuko said, snatching Sokka’s hand and dragging him out of his thoughts, and then they were running, down the road and toward whatever their new friend had in store for them.

Chapter Text

“She likes fig apples, as a treat,” Zuko said.

“She likes anything she can fit inside her horrible little beak,” Sokka said. “She’ll snatch your dinner right out of your hands.”

“Three… four scoops of sun oats,” Zuko added. “And you have to brush her.”

“Trust me, she’ll remind you,” Sokka said.

“And she needs exercise, so—”

“I’m sure she will be quite happy,” Iroh assured him.

She might be, but Zuko looked absolutely miserable at the idea of leaving Beaky with a stranger. His chest tightened with fondness, and Sokka averted his eyes to look at Beaky instead, and tried to breathe through it. He patted her sharp little beak and ignored the way those beady little eyes seemed to stare right through him, like even Beaky could tell what he was thinking.

The back of his neck heated at the thought. He’d been trying not to think about what Sensu had said about his stupid crush, or how absolutely impossible it was becoming for Sokka to look at Zuko without his mind wandering to his eyes, or his hands, or…

Sokka flicked a glance over toward Zuko before he could catch himself. His lips were twisted into a stupid frown, more of a pout, really, and he caught himself staring only after Beaky nipped at his fingers, annoyed that he’d frozen with his hand against her head, instead of petting her.

He was probably the only one, besides Iroh of course, who would be able to tell that the sullen glare on Zuko’s face wasn’t a threat to follow his instructions, so much as reluctance to leave her behind.

They didn’t really have a choice, though, because they couldn't exactly bring an ostrich horse onto the ferry with them. And what were they going to do once they arrived in Ba Sing Se’s Lower Ring? Put her in their apartment? A stable would probably cost more than the room they were going to have to share when they got there, so… Beaky had to stay behind.

She’d be happier with a farm to roam around on, anyway. Sokka put a hand on Zuko’s very warm, very toned shoulder, patting consolingly. It was a testament to Zuko’s reluctance that he didn’t shake Sokka off with an annoyed look at the first condescending ‘there, there’.

“Time to go, buddy,” Sokka said. They were getting kind of weird looks, loitering outside the ferry station for so long just to say goodbye to their ostrich horse, and considering how hard Iroh’s pai sho buddies had worked to get them this far, it would be stupid to draw too much attention now.

Zuko reluctantly let go with a few final instructions that their guide took with an immensely serious expression. Sokka nudged Zuko’s bag over to him with his boot, and picked up the rest of their bags to follow Iroh inside.

The ferry station was enormous, and surprisingly dark, with only a little sunlight peeking in from the mouth of the stone cavern that had been carved out over the bay. There was a heavy stench of mildew in the air, and the ground was vaguely damp even this far away from the water. High walls dotted with watchtowers separated the refugees with tickets and passports in hand from the rest of the crowd. They were a strong reminder that they hadn’t escaped the war, yet, and it wasn’t the Fire Nation they were watching closely, this time. There were so many people milling around inside that Sokka wondered how they could possibly all fit onto the boat.

Then again, judging by the make-shift bedrolls set up all along the walls, refugees huddled into corners, they probably wouldn’t all fit. These people had probably been stuck here waiting for their chance to cross long before they’d arrived. Sokka could maybe understand the need to keep order, if there were too many people and there wasn’t enough space and supplies to go around, but these people didn’t look like troublemakers. Mostly, they just looked tired, and Sokka couldn’t imagine why they would need this much security for these people, but… maybe they were just a precaution, in case the Fire Nation found them?

His skin still crawled as they walked through the station, like there were too many eyes following him from the towers.

Sokka eyed the line to the ticket counter uneasily as they passed. Some of the people left satisfied with tickets in hand—the ones with papers, either real or convincing fakes like they had been given—while others stood arguing in their places until the unsympathetic woman behind the counter waved for security to move them aside.

There was a cluster of security guards standing near the booths with their backs to them, and Sokka glanced away before any of them could turn and catch him looking. Good thing they already had their papers and tickets, courtesy of Iroh’s friend. Sokka was perfectly happy never running into any of the local security.

They made their way to the water’s edge. It was less crowded once they’d passed the passport attendant, and even the little bit of natural light and the view of the water was enough to help Sokka relax. Zuko leaned against one of the railings as they waited for their chance to board. Maybe it was just the late-evening light that was casting a halo behind him, or maybe it was that they were almost to Ba Sing Se and would finally get a chance to breathe, but suddenly he couldn’t look away. Zuko’s hair had grown out just enough to be ruffled by the breeze off the water. Before, he’d looked annoyed and unhappy, but now he just looked pensive, staring past the ferry into the bay.

He just looked... really nice, all cleaned up and in fresh clothes, so that they would blend in better once they’d gotten to Ba Sing Se. Sure, they’d all benefited from Iroh’s pai sho buddies’ hospitality, but spirits. That was fine, though. It wasn’t weird for a friend to think that their friend was handsome, even if Sokka was pretty sure it wasn’t supposed to make your breath catch.

Zuko glanced over, and Sokka barely managed to crush the urge to startle guiltily at being caught. He pasted on an innocent smile, instead, and waved Lee’s very real and official identification papers under his nose until he took them.

“They’ve started boarding,” Iroh said, resting a hand on Sokka’s shoulder. “We had better hurry, if we don’t want to have to wait for the next one.”

Iroh had given Sokka his papers to carry, and they’d looked official enough… not that Sokka knew what real papers were supposed to look like. The Southern Water Tribe didn’t have anything like this—if someone had shown up outside his village, claiming to be refugees fleeing from the Fire Nation, he definitely couldn’t imagine Dad turning them away.

From what Sokka had seen of the Earth Kingdom so far, he wouldn’t be surprised if they were real, official papers. It was someone’s job to make these, after all, and all Iroh’s friends had probably had to do was hand a little money over to the right Earth Kingdom official. The man collecting tickets at the gangway barely spared them a glance as they boarded, so he guessed they must have been convincing enough.

It felt good to be back on the water again. He wasn’t certain that it would, considering that the last time that he’d been on a ship he’d nearly drowned, and the last time he’d been on the ocean he’d been a prisoner on a tiny raft with a big jerk. The waves in the bay were so small that he could barely feel the ship rocking under them, but he was relieved to realize that it was a comfort, anyway. It still reminded him of home.

The crowds were thickest near the gangway, as passengers boarded and then immediately froze, like they weren’t certain where to go. Sokka pushed his way through the group hesitating in the entryway to a clearer patch of deck. The other passengers looked beaten down and exhausted, and only a small handful of them even looked excited at the prospect of finally reaching their destination.

He only realized he’d been scanning the passengers for someone specific when he reached the couple at the far rail without spotting a familiar face. He wasn’t sure why he was disappointed, because Aang and Katara would be flying on Appa, not sailing on a boat. Sokka gave the passengers another look anyway, loitering by the far rail until the ferry was well underway, and felt stupid for doing it.

Sokka tore his gaze away from the crowd when Iroh stepped up beside him. He gave Sokka one of his knowing, sympathetic looks that simultaneously made him feel like he was being examined for all his secrets, and like Iroh already knew all of his secrets, anyway.

“I wasn’t sure that I would ever return to this city,” Iroh said. He smiled, but it was a wry smile, like he was laughing at himself. “Certainly not as a tourist.”

“Well, we’re not really tourists,” Sokka said.

“I suppose not. A refugee, then,” he said. Anyone else might have thought that the conflicted look on Iroh’s face was because the Fire Nation had been beaten pretty badly, during the siege. It was a humiliating defeat, and everyone knew about it, but…

But Zuko had mentioned his cousin a couple of times. Mostly quietly, mostly in passing while they were travelling together through the Earth Kingdom, and their truce had been too tenuous for Sokka to want to pry too hard into the details. It was obvious that it was a sore topic, that Zuko was still grieving and also that he felt—Sokka didn’t know. Jealous wasn’t anywhere near the right word. Inadequate, maybe. Or maybe just worried that he was a poor replacement, and would always be.

“It must be hard,” he said, because Sokka didn’t know if Zuko was supposed to tell him any of that, or if it was supposed to be a secret. At least this way, he could plead ignorance, and pretend he was just talking about the battles that everyone thought Iroh cared about, instead of the things that actually mattered.

Iroh hummed and glanced at him.

“I think that some things should be difficult,” he said. “Nevertheless, I’m excited to see it again. I wasn’t certain I would get the chance.”

“Yeah, I guess I’m excited to see it too,” Sokka said. Zuko had seemed less enthusiastic about finding somewhere to settle down, but things were different for Zuko and Iroh. They didn’t have anywhere to go back to like Sokka did. Ba Sing Se was their last stop and they had to make it work. Sokka could tell what Zuko was really worried about, because he was worried about it too—were they going somewhere safe, where the Fire Nation couldn’t reach them… or were they just giving up?

(Was Sokka giving up, selfishly going along with Zuko just because he didn’t want to part ways, when he should be out there looking for his sister—)

“It seems like Lee has made himself a new friend,” Iroh said. “Should we say hello?”

Huh? Sokka frowned, and Iroh gestured behind him with a nod of his head.

Zuko smiled a little when he spotted Sokka looking his way, and normally that alone would have made Sokka’s stupid stomach flip, but all he felt was a sinking dread, when he spotted the person Zuko was making friends with.

Jet was leaning against the rail, close enough that his elbow was almost brushing Zuko’s. He’d thought that Iroh was joking, but no… they sure did look… friendly. Which was weird, considering that Zuko was usually all prickly, and antisocial, and suspicious of anyone who tried to strike up a conversation with him unprompted. But Jet had always been charming, and apparently he was the exception, because Zuko didn’t look annoyed, and he definitely wasn’t leaning away. Sokka huffed, and immediately doused the little flare of… indignation, probably, that Zuko had chosen now of all times to flex his social skills.

It was just that Jet was the last person in the world they wanted to be friendly with, if they didn’t want to get caught.

Zuko was leaning in slightly, one ear tilted toward him to hear whatever Jet was saying over the wind off the water. What was Jet saying? More importantly, what had Zuko said? Sokka’s stomach swooped at the thought. Of all the people in the world that Zuko could have possibly chosen to get chummy with...

(Ugh. Sokka had been hoping for a familiar face. He needed to be more careful about what he wished for.)

“I’m Lee,” Zuko was saying, when Sokka hurried over to them. Sokka cringed. Hopefully he hadn’t said anything incriminating… which was kind of a stupid worry, when he thought about it. It wasn’t like Zuko was suddenly going to go around telling strangers he was a firebender, when he was the one who had been such a stickler for fake names and being careful all the way here. “And this is—”

“Sokka,” Sokka interrupted, before Zuko could introduce him with a fake name.

Zuko glanced at him, clearly confused, although maybe that was less at Sokka using his own name and more at how obviously unhappy Sokka sounded.

“We’ve met before,” Sokka said.

Jet wasn’t even trying to hide his own surprise, a pleased smile already curling around the edges.

Jet invited all three of them to join them on the patch of deck they’d staked their claim on. The ferry was crowded, and Iroh, apparently incapable of picking up the tension, agreed on all of their behalf—or maybe, more accurately, he was finally turning that obstinate, friendly attitude on Sokka instead of just his nephew.

Longshot raised an eyebrow at Sokka, but that was the only indication that either he or Smellerbee were surprised to see him here. It was just Longshot and Smellerbee, though. He kept expecting more of the Freedom Fighters to appear, but as the ferry cut its way through the water and the sun slowly sank toward the horizon, Sokka realized that they were alone.

“Where’s your sister?” Jet asked. Almost as an afterthought, he added, “and Aang, of course.”

Sokka hesitated and glanced at Zuko. Jet definitely noticed, but at least he didn’t seem to find it suspicious.

It was probably better if Jet didn’t know the details. He was smart, and the last thing any of them needed was for the Freedom Fighters to start drawing inconvenient conclusions before they even managed to make it through customs and into Ba Sing Se. The less they knew, the better. Sokka shrugged stiffly.

“We got separated,” he said. Smellerbee hummed sympathetically.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Jet said.

Sokka wasn’t sure that sorry was the right word. He seemed more disappointed than anything, which was probably a bad case of selective memory on Jet’s part, considering that if Katara was here she probably would have freaked out and frozen him to the deck by now. Sokka just shrugged again, and hoped that was enough that he wouldn’t push.

“Where’s the rest of your gang?” Sokka asked.

“We got separated,” Jet parroted. There was a hint of bitterness in his tone, slightly accusatory.

The bitter expression was there and gone again in an instant. Sokka might not have even noticed, if not for the fact that he was paying attention, searching for any indication that Jet suspected them. Zuko raised an eyebrow at him, clearly curious.

Jet was leaning on the railing beside Zuko, their elbows brushing. Sokka didn’t even know why he noticed that, just that he did, and when he caught himself staring he glanced over at Jet and realized that he’d caught him staring, too. Jet tilted his head, and it wasn’t meant to be teasing but for some stupid reason Sokka flushed anyway. Jet leaned up and stuck his hands in his pockets, instead.

“We’ve been traveling pretty much since the Freedom Fighters were broken up,” Jet added. “I guess we’ve been trying to decide what to do next.”

Sokka couldn’t help the little curl of suspicion at that. He flicked his gaze over the deck, toward the rest of the refugees and back.

“So, what are you planning?” Sokka asked.

Maybe that wasn’t fair, but Jet could forgive him for being a bit skeptical of his decision making, considering what he’d tried the last time they’d met. Jet raised one infuriating eyebrow, but he didn’t look particularly offended by the question.

“Planning?” Jet asked. Sokka crossed his arms.

“You don’t strike me as the type to settle down,” Sokka said. As much as Sokka hated to admit it, he and Jet were too similar. There was no way he would be satisfied sitting out for the rest of the war. Sokka definitely wouldn’t, especially with his sister and Aang still fighting, and if Jet had been separated from the rest of the Freedom Fighters—he would have to do something once he got to Ba Sing Se.

“We’re starting over,” Smellerbee said, pointedly, before Jet could answer. Jet waved a hand toward her, a little there you have it gesture that did nothing to curb Sokka’s suspicion.

“Starting over,” Jet agreed. “Isn’t that what you’re doing?”

“No,” Sokka said immediately. “I’m not giving up.”

That seemed to hit a nerve, much more so than the accusation in his tone before. Smellerbee frowned and gave Jet a look, but before she could say anything that smile was back, all teeth.

“Well, if that’s the case,” Jet said, “I think there will be a lot to do in Ba Sing Se.”

Sokka had forgotten how annoying Jet was.

He thought he was so cool, and so charming, with his stupid mouth wheat and his dumb eyebrows. Maybe he really was going straight, but his lines sure hadn’t gotten any better in the time since he’d seen him.

Sokka glanced at Zuko, who… was actually listening, and not scowling, leaning forward slightly to tilt his face away from the wind off the water.

Ugh.

He bit his tongue and resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Unbelievable.

Zuko was supposed to be all… annoying and aloof, too stubborn to hold half a conversation with Than and Ying even when they were feeding them, practically clawing the walls trying to get out of having to talk to the nuns, or Sensu and his men, and here he was falling for Jet’s stupid lines.

Sokka did not get it. First Katara, and now apparently Lee was a fan of the dumb ‘lost soul finding his way in the world’ routine—

Oh, spirits, Zuko had his own ‘lost soul finding his way in the world’ routine. And they had that in common. And maybe Zuko was into that. Not that it mattered to Sokka, because Zuko could do what he wanted. Never mind that Sokka was pretty sure that Jet’s ‘lost soul’ would find itself pretty quickly if it learned where Zuko came from…

Jet had fallen silent. He realized abruptly that he’d been zoning out, and was, maybe, glaring a little too conspicuously at the side of Jet’s head. The rest of the group had turned to look at him expectantly, like they were waiting for his input. If Jet had noticed Sokka glaring at him he made no show of it, patiently chewing his stupid mouth wheat, head tilted a little to the side.

“What do you think, Sokka?” Jet asked. He raised an eyebrow slightly. There was a bit of a challenge in his voice, and Sokka wasn’t paying enough attention to the conversation to know why, but by the look on his face Jet was expecting him not to like it. Even the amused little tilt of his lips was enough to light a spark of annoyance in him. Spirits, what was it about Jet that just got under his skin—

“Sure,” Sokka huffed and shoved himself to his feet. “I think that’s just a great idea.”

Zuko’s brow furrowed. “You do?” he asked, clearly confused and a little startled by Sokka’s easy acceptance. Sokka hesitated, just barely. He wasn’t actually sure what he’d just agreed to. He hadn’t really been listening, but he definitely wasn’t going to admit that, because the last thing he wanted to do right now was explain why. He nodded stiffly.

“Yep,” Sokka said. “Just—super. Great. You guys go do… whatever you’re gonna do, together, and I’ll just— I’m going to get some air.”

Stupid. There was plenty of air, they were outside, but no one had the bad sense to point that out to him. He could feel their eyes on him as he shoved his hands into his pockets. Sokka refused to look at the rest of them, but he couldn’t resist one last glance at Zuko, ignoring the guilt churning his stomach when a look of concern flashed over his face as he watched Sokka go.

Sokka retreated to the most private patch of rail he could find—which wasn’t very private at all, with how many people they had huddled together on the deck. Whatever, he’d never see these people again anyway, so what did he care if they saw him sulking over… he didn’t even know. It wasn’t even about Jet or whatever stupid plan he’d come up with. Maybe part of it was just that he was still feeling raw from the last time he’d met Jet, and Zuko warming up to him immediately had only helped to remind him of how poorly that had gone.

Maybe part of it was that he missed his sister, and Aang, and he still wasn’t sure he was making the right choice in going to Ba Sing Se when maybe he should be out looking for them. He knew that wasn’t rational, that he had no idea where they were or if they were even still in the Earth Kingdom, and that it would be next to impossible to catch them with Appa even if he tried.

Thinking about how impossible it all was would not make him feel better. Sokka sighed, and buried his face in his arms.

He’d been moping for barely five minutes when Zuko came to find him, so… he must have turned Jet down, and come to look for Sokka instead. Not that he cared. Zuko could do what he wanted.

“Where’s Jet?” Sokka asked, feeling petty and stupid even as he said it.

Zuko, rightfully, ignored that question. He was staring at Sokka like he was a puzzle he was trying to work out.

“What’s wrong?” Zuko asked.

“Nothing,” Sokka said. He frowned at that, and Sokka hastily added, “I’m fine. Just… seasick.”

“You don’t get seasick,” Zuko said, “and the water is calm.”

“Well, maybe it was the food,” Sokka said.

There. That was a believable excuse, because the food was awful, and most of that stuff Sokka wouldn’t have fed to a hog monkey, never mind a person.

Zuko just stared at him, clearly skeptical. Sokka resisted the urge to shrink away from the look, annoyed at himself. He could feel his heart fluttering nervously in his chest. He didn’t even have a good excuse for leaving, or acting like this, and Zuko was looking at him so carefully, like he was on the edge of understanding him, and that thought alone was enough to make Sokka want to combust.

“...Are you mad at me?” Zuko asked, after a moment. “Did I do something?”

“No,” Sokka said. He gripped the rail a little tighter, and Zuko frowned at him. “No, Zuko, of course not.”

Zuko’s frown deepened, stubborn as always.

“You’re mad at me,” he said.

“I’m not,” Sokka insisted. “There’s nothing to be mad about, so why would I be mad?”

Zuko looked tense, but mostly exasperated. It chaffed, a little, because Sokka knew he was being stupid, okay, he didn’t need Zuko to tell him.

“I just think you should be careful around him, is all,” Sokka said in a frustrated rush. “Jet’s—he’s an okay guy, I think, deep down, but he’s… You just don’t know him.”

“He seemed all right,” Zuko said.

“He hates the Fire Nation,” Sokka insisted. “More than anything.”

“Him and everyone else on this ferry,” Zuko said wryly. “Him and everyone else in the whole Earth Kingdom, really.”

Sokka huffed, annoyed, and then irritated at himself for letting himself get annoyed. Why was he getting so worked up about this? Why did it matter if Zuko and Jet got along? Zuko wasn’t stupid. He could take care of himself just fine. And maybe Jet really was going straight, and he and Zuko could be best friends, and it wouldn’t even matter. Maybe Sokka was being unfair for no reason, and getting all twisted up for absolutely no reason—

“Sokka… what’s really going on?” Zuko asked quietly.

The lights were low on this side of the deck, just beyond the lantern hanging by the cabin door’s reach. Zuko looked so concerned, and so intensely focused, like he was trying to pull some explanation from Sokka’s gaze alone. It was windy out on the water, and Sokka could feel the heat radiating off Zuko’s arm where he was leaning close against the rail. Zuko didn’t even seem to notice how close they were standing now, but suddenly it was all Sokka could think about. His heart fluttered. He could just turn his wrist and they’d be touching. He could take his hand, right now.

“Sokka?” Zuko asked.

He could…

Sokka leaned in, didn’t even think, hardly even realized what he was doing before Zuko’s breath was feathering warm over his lips, his fingers curled around the front of Zuko’s robe. Sokka kissed him, heart pounding in his throat. His lips were just as warm as he’d imagined, and Zuko—

Zuko wasn’t doing anything. He was just standing there, and as soon as the thought registered Sokka drew back, snatched his hands away self-consciously. He curled his fingers in the front of his own robe, instead. Zuko was staring at him, wide-eyed and stunned, not moving, not leaning in, not saying anything, and why wasn’t he saying anything, he...

Oh.

Something cold and hard sank underneath his ribs. He felt his face heat.

“Sorry,” Sokka choked out, as all the fluttering nerves turned sour in his stomach. “I just thought—shit.”

He backed away, and Zuko…

Zuko still wasn’t doing anything. He just let him go. He was probably glad he didn’t have to tell him to leave himself, and that was—that was fine. Humiliation was crawling over his skin already. He didn’t think he could take any more.

Sokka reached the stern of the boat and ran out of room to go any further, unless he wanted to jump over the side and just swim the rest of the way to Ba Sing Se himself, which, honestly, was looking pretty appealing right now. Sokka crouched down and pressed his forehead against the cool metal of the rail.

Stupid, he was so stupid. Spirits, why did he do that?

He pressed his knuckle to his lips and closed his eyes, just breathing.

It was fine. It didn’t matter. It didn’t matter, and it was fine.

He watched the light of the ferry station shrink away behind them.

Sokka really should have gone to find Zuko, to talk and let him know that it wasn’t going to happen again, even though… that was pretty obvious. The fact that Zuko was probably as embarrassed as Sokka was, even if it was just on Sokka’s behalf, didn’t really help his nerves.

In the end, Sokka was a coward, and when the ferry pulled into dock, and it was finally Sokka’s turn to deboard, he went to find Iroh instead. He smiled at Sokka’s approach like nothing had changed, so clearly Zuko hadn’t said anything to him. Thank the spirits for that. Sokka wasn’t sure where Zuko had gone, since he’d left Jet back on the ship, unless he was still standing where Sokka had left him, maybe waiting for Sokka to come back and explain himself—

Ugh.

Him and his stupid, impulsive brain.

The problem was that when Zuko finally did come to find them, he barely even glanced in Sokka’s direction. He wasn’t acting like he was avoiding his gaze, but just… completely, crushingly normal, with one hand wrapped around the strap of his bag, thoroughly distracted by his uncle’s attempt to get himself some tea.

Zuko was pretending that it didn’t happen. Sokka had been dreading talking to him for the entire time that he’d been sitting against the rail, and the whole time that he and Iroh had been waiting for Zuko to disembark, and...

He genuinely hadn’t known there was something that could be more crushing than Zuko having to turn him down, but this was definitely it.

“This tea is terrible,” Iroh moaned. Zuko scoffed and rolled his eyes.

“Can’t you wait until we get inside the city, at least?” Zuko asked.

Should he just take the fact that Zuko was going to pretend nothing had happened as a blessing in disguise? It… could be worse, couldn’t it? If he was ignoring it, at least he wasn’t so offended that he didn’t want anything to do with Sokka anymore. Sure, he was stupid, and he should have known better—he had known better—than to risk all the hard work of the last few weeks getting Zuko to open up to him, just to ruin it because he couldn’t control his dumb, impulsive brain—

But even if it was awkward at first, and Zuko wanted to pretend that nothing had happened and was going to keep Sokka at arms length to do it, if Sokka didn’t do it again, or convinced him it was just a mistake, maybe they could still be friends, at least, if Sokka could just get over the embarrassment…

No, maybe he should tear the bandage off quickly—

Sokka nearly flinched when he heard his name. His gaze snapped up, embarrassingly hopefully, and—no, Zuko and Iroh were still bickering over cold tea. Sokka turned, confused, and spotted Jet standing next to Smellerbee and Longshot, waving at him from the other side of the platform. Sokka crushed down his disappointment and made his way over to them.

“Hey man, I just wanted you to know that there’s no hard feelings,” Jet said, completely oblivious to Sokka’s current, much more pressing crisis.

“Sure, of course,” Sokka said absently, already nodding along before he realized that Jet hadn’t finished.

“And I want you to know that the Freedom Fighters could use guys like you. You and Lee,” Jet insisted. “We could do a lot of good together.”

“Thanks, but I don’t think we’d be a good fit,” Sokka said. Jet frowned, clearly disagreeing. He was probably thinking that Sokka was turning him down because of what happened in Gaipan, which… was part of it, sure, but mostly it was because Zuko really wasn’t the kind of person that Jet would want in their group.

“Well, if you change your mind, you can always come find me,” Jet said. “I hope you find your sister.”

“Yeah,” Sokka said. “Me too.”

When he made his way back over to Zuko and Iroh’s side, Iroh’s tea was all over the floor, and Zuko was grumbling about getting them caught. Sokka glanced nervously in Jet’s direction, but by the time he turned back, he was too late, and Jet was already gone.

“Can we just go?” Zuko asked. He made a face as Iroh cast one last look at the tea vendor rattling his cart down the station. Zuko balled his fist in his uncle’s sleeve and dragged him back toward the platform instead. He didn’t even spare Sokka a look.

The monorail was uncomfortably cramped. There was only so much room, and anyone who didn’t make it on the train would be stuck waiting on the platform for who knew how long, getting glared at by the customs agents and lamenting their cold tea until the next too-full train rattled up to the station. Iroh and Zuko sat in the seats nearest to the door, squashed in across from a woman trying to wrangle four young children into the same bench seat. Sokka eyed the seat next to Zuko, and then the rest of the too-full train. It’d be weird, if he didn’t—Sokka didn’t want to make it weird. Weirder. Didn’t want to make it weirder.

Zuko made the decision for him, shifting over a little so that Sokka could squeeze into the space just as the car jolted into motion. Sokka kept his gaze fixed pointedly out the window, trying not to think too hard about whether or not he was overwarm from the crowded car or from the embarrassment still creeping under his skin.

They passed the outer wall with the quiet din of the car surrounding them. The kids across from them made appreciative noises as the car passed over the open fields surrounding the city, and then the inner wall and the first of the crowded buildings came into view. It was enormous, and a little overwhelming, looking at the size of that city and the thousands of people who must live there.

At first the car was only filled with refugees from the ferry, but eventually people started to filter off at the platforms they’d stopped them on, replaced with residents who were heading further into the city. The old residents of Ba Sing Se looked at them like the refugees were something to scrape off the bottom of their boots, even though these people must have been in their places once, maybe not even that long ago. Sokka could guess why, as he stared out the window at the run-down buildings and crowded streets. When there already wasn’t enough to go around, more people would be a curse instead of a blessing.

Iroh waited until one of the very last stops in the Lower Ring before they finally climbed off to walk the rest of the way.

The disrepair was even more obvious, walking through the streets. The Lower Ring was as broken down as some of the towns they’d passed through but much more crowded. Zuko was certainly looking down his nose at it, the tiniest, skeptical wrinkle between his eyebrows as he examined the neighborhood where they would be living.

Sokka was almost inclined to agree. It was hard to imagine living somewhere like this, especially when he was used to open spaces and clean air that didn’t smell like compost and sweat, and being able to walk down the street without bumping elbows with a grumpy Earth Kingdom resident who looked like they hated him on principle—

Someone shrieked, and Sokka nearly jumped out of his skin before the rest of the sound—laughter, kids playing—caught up to him. There was a group of girls kicking a homemade ball against the wall of one of the crumbling stone buildings, their mothers chatting loudly on the stoop beside them, folding laundry off the line strung between the windows in the alleyway.

Sokka instantly felt guilty for judging. For these people, this was home. It was just different from what Sokka was used to, and they were making the most of it. He could get used to it, too.

But not for too long. Only until he found a way to contact Aang and Katara, or… if that failed, at least until he decided what he wanted to do next—

Iroh’s Pai Sho friends had found an apartment for them. It was basically as far away from the monorail stop as they could get, and they walked the whole way in tired silence, with nothing but the din of the after-dark streets to keep them company. Sokka stuffed his hands in his pockets and firmly kept his gaze on the road ahead of him.

Iroh paused outside a building along the path, and Sokka wasn’t remotely surprised when he glanced through the darkened window and saw that it was a tea shop.

“It’s closed, Uncle,” Zuko said, exasperated.

Iroh just hummed and continued reading. Sokka peeked over his shoulder. He’d thought it was a paper menu taped in the window, but when he looked closer he realized it was a Help Wanted sign.

Well, they could do worse than a tea shop. Not that Sokka knew the first thing about making tea, but Zuko didn’t seem like he even cared to learn, so Sokka still had a leg up over him. The sign wanted dishwashers and servers, too, not just kitchen staff. Maybe they’d take him for one of those. Sokka didn’t really know what else he’d do. His village didn’t exactly have jobs like this, just… chores. There was no point in starting a tea shop when there were hardly any people around to serve, and half of them were eight year olds, and anyway, they’d just as soon share what they had for free than try to sell it.

Their new apartment was through a door tucked into the alley between two buildings just a few blocks down from the teashop. It led to a narrow staircase, built on uneven risers, angled like the whole building was listing slightly to the side. The smell of mildew near the entryway was almost overwhelming, but it faded some as they climbed higher. The brass key stuck a little in the lock.

The room was almost completely empty, aside from a single unvarnished table and two mismatched chairs shoved up into the corner next to the window. They didn’t bother lighting the lone lamp on the counter, just shuffled through the apartment by the cast-off light from the street filtering in through the kitchen window.

Sokka was exhausted, from the long trip, but also from the constant worrying. At this point, he just wanted to collapse into bed and forget that he even existed for a while. There was only one other room, which had clearly been set up for one person by whomever had left the furniture here. They’d hastily stacked extra bedding for two more people just inside the door, which Sokka assumed Iroh’s friends had scrounged up for them.

The rooms echoed strangely, empty of anything that might have muffled the sound of their footsteps. Sokka tossed his bag against the wall, toed off his boots, and then kicked one of the mats over next to the window. The room wasn’t that big. With all their bedding laid out, there was hardly any floor left exposed.

Which was fine, and not going to be awkward, because they’d slept in a lot tighter spaces than this and that had been fine, too. Sokka wasn’t going to make it weird by suddenly needing space, and setting up on the kitchen floor, no matter how much the idea tempted him.

He yanked his hair tie out and flopped down, miserably. The floorboards creaked as Iroh knocked around in the kitchen, probably unpacking his bag in anticipation of making tea tomorrow morning. The walls must not have been very thick, because he could just make out the faint sound of one of their neighbors snoring.

Sokka twisted the fabric in his hands, staring at the ceiling. Zuko had laid down with his back to him. Maybe that was supposed to be a hint, but he was pretty sure that if he didn’t do something, say something, to try to fix this, he was going to die. He closed his eyes and sighed.

“Listen, Zuko,” Sokka whispered miserably. Zuko stiffened. “I’m really sorry—”

Zuko sighed and threw the blankets back. He rolled over, and Sokka’s eyes snapped open, confused, as Zuko leaned over him looking—annoyed, maybe, or maybe just determined. He had one second to blink against the darkness, apology cut off with a little inquisitive sound at the back of his throat, and then Zuko was kissing him.

Zuko was kissing him.

He planted one hand on the floor beside Sokka’s ear, the other sliding over the blankets to bury his fingers in his hair. Relief swept in so quickly that he was lightheaded with it. He didn’t hate Sokka, and he hadn’t ruined anything, because Zuko was kissing him back.

Sokka leaned up on his elbows, hands frozen stupidly in the space between them. He’d barely gotten a hold of himself long enough to perk up, to lean in to kiss him back, before Zuko was pulling away again, as quickly as he’d rolled over. Sokka tried to chase after him, but Zuko just huffed, not-quite-laughing but close to it, and pulled the blanket back up.

Sokka stared at him, shell shocked. His bottom lip was still tingling, his heart was pounding. It had happened so quickly that if not for the red creeping up from beneath Zuko’s collar, Sokka could have believed he’d imagined it.

“...What?” Sokka breathed.

Zuko had rolled back over, like he was just going to go back to bed now, as though nothing had happened. Zuko’s shoulders climbed to his ears as he burrowed a little deeper under the blanket. He was sure that once he’d have thought Zuko was grumpy, or something, but now it was just super obvious that he was nervous.

“Zuko, what?” Sokka asked, a little desperately.

Zuko shushed him. Sokka made an indignant noise in the back of his throat.

“You can’t just shush me after—” Sokka whisper-shouted back, but he cut off when the door squeaked on its hinge. Zuko, impossibly, got even more tense, and that was enough to make Sokka’s questions die in his throat. If Iroh noticed anything weird, he didn’t say anything. Sokka shuffled back under his blanket and valiantly resisted the urge to pull it over his head like a child, or maybe just smother himself with it.

It was too dark to see if Zuko was blushing. Sokka was definitely blushing. His heart was beating too hard to do anything but just lie there in agony, staring at the faint shadows cast on the ceiling from the street. Sokka had been exhausted before, on the monorail and on the walk over, but he was wide awake now. He listened as Iroh settled, until his quiet breathing shifted from restful to deeper sleep, faintly snoring.

Zuko’s fingers brushed his under the blanket, and Sokka jumped like he’d been shocked. Then just as quickly, the touch was gone again. Zuko climbed to his feet. He slipped out into the living room, as silent as a spirit. Sokka held his breath until he heard the rasp of the kitchen window sliding open.

Sokka waited exactly thirty seconds—exactly, he counted—to see whether the sound would wake Iroh, and then he followed. The window only opened half-way, stuck where the paint from the frame was coated on too thick to fit past the runners. Sokka wriggled out the narrow gap and reached for the ledge above him. Zuko’s hand found his arm as soon as he started to climb, like he’d been waiting for Sokka to follow, rough calluses rasping against the soft skin on the inside of Sokka’s wrist.

Even when Sokka reached the roof, settled with one leg still dangling over the side, Zuko didn’t let go. He traced his thumb over the pulse point, gaze turned down for just a moment longer, breath shivering in the silence. Sokka was a little out of breath, too—he thought, maybe, that wasn’t from the climb—and when his lips parted, ready to say something but not quite sure what yet, Zuko looked up.

There was a tiny wrinkle between his eyebrows, the only indication at all that he was nervous.

“Are you… sure about this?” Zuko asked.

“What—of course I am,” Sokka said, immediately. “Why wouldn’t I be?” That wrinkle grew a little more distinct, as Zuko probably cycled through the million reasons that Sokka might not be.

“Because…” Zuko said. “I don’t know if you’ve thought this through—” Sokka huffed a laugh, but he was feeling ten kinds of relief, too.

“I thought you were trying to figure out how to let me down gently,” Sokka said. That, or maybe Zuko had thought that if he pretended that nothing had happened, Sokka would just get the hint and not bring it up again.

“No,” Zuko said. “I was just… surprised, and I needed to think.” He hesitated. “Are you sure that you’ve—”

“Zuko,” Sokka said. He reached out, and when Zuko didn’t pull away, Sokka curled a hand around the back of his neck, just to touch. Their knees knocked, gently, when Sokka inched a little closer. “I like you. I—really like you,” he amended. Sokka was sure about that, and nothing else mattered.

Zuko’s eyes were honey gold, but up here where the street lamps could barely reach them his eyes looked dark, only the pale edges shining in the half-light. He smiled, almost hesitantly, like he wasn’t quite sure how they’d gotten here, and definitely wasn’t sure where to go next. Sokka had had a million desperate, hopeful questions climbing up here, pressing against the back of his teeth, but looking at Zuko now, he couldn’t remember a single one. Sokka leaned in. Their lips brushed, and it was like striking a match.

Sokka had been holding that kiss on the ferry in his mind—agonizing over it, sure, but also just thinking about it, and he’d worried that maybe he’d started to imagine how soft Zuko’s lips were, or how warm, but if anything… Sokka didn’t even know how he could have gotten it so wrong. It was perfect, Zuko’s teeth scraping over Sokka’s bottom lip, his hand resting on Sokka’s waist, and the slow curl of warmth between them.

Sokka didn’t know how long they stayed on the rooftop, kissing—definitely long enough that they were at risk of Iroh waking up and thinking that they’d made another late-night escape—but he didn’t care. Sokka felt like he was on top of the world, not some lopsided roof in the middle of the Earth Kingdom. He tilted his head, just slightly, until he was looking out over the city.

“Not a bad view, right?” Sokka asked. There were probably better views in the Upper Ring, where the tiled roofs weren’t crumbling, and the crammed houses weren’t blocking the lights, but something about it drew Sokka in, anyway.

“Yeah,” Zuko said, never once taking his eyes off Sokka’s face. Sokka huffed a laugh, because that ought to have been incredibly cheesy, if not for the fact that Sokka knew Zuko didn’t have an insincere bone in his body, and he’d absolutely meant it. He trailed his fingers up and down Zuko’s sleeve, thinking… well, that he wanted to kiss him again, but also that they should probably not spend all night on the roof, especially if Iroh was going to make good on that threat to find them work tomorrow morning.

“Should we head back inside?” he asked, after a quiet moment.

Zuko was flushed, although most of the evidence was barely visible in the low light. Sokka grinned, and then marveled at how Zuko could manage to make a glare look fond. His pulse thumped under Sokka’s thumb as he cupped his face and kissed him again, quickly. Zuko’s fingers curled in the front of Sokka’s fancy new tunic, and for just a second Sokka thought he was going to say no.

Zuko sighed, and reluctantly let go.

“Probably,” he said. “Before Uncle wakes up.”

Chapter Text

There was a little sign hanging beside the front door of the Pao Family Tea House.

“The Lower Ring’s Favorite Tea Shop!” the sign boasted.

That probably wasn’t as high of an honor as Pao wanted them to believe, considering that Sokka had yet to see another tea shop in the Lower Ring to compare it to. Still, there were customers inside when they pushed through the front door, so the tea must have been at least good enough to not turn people away. ‘Good enough’ was the sort of dubious honor that would scandalize Iroh, if anyone had applied it to his tea.

The door swung open a little too readily when they pushed on the handle, like the latch didn’t quite work, and banged against the frame behind them when they came inside. The sound had a man poking his head out from the back, with a cheesy smile that dropped right off his face as soon as he realized they weren’t customers.

Pao didn’t bother with an interview, just thrust an apron into Iroh’s hands as soon as he asked after the job openings. He didn’t even check to see if they knew how to make tea…. which was probably for the best, considering that the only one who did was Iroh. Then again, maybe it would have been hypocritical of him to check their credentials, considering the face Iroh made when Pao offered him a cup of his own brew.

Iroh was happy to disappear into the kitchen, which left Sokka and Zuko to take orders and clean up after customers for the remainder of their first day on the job, with nothing more than a few cursory instructions from Pao. Sokka didn’t mind winging it, but Zuko looked supremely uncomfortable with the pad and brush in his hands. He shot the door an annoyed glare every time it dared to bang open with new customers.

They spent the entire day that way, Sokka greeting tables at the door, cleaning up spills, and generally pretending that he knew what he was doing. At least Sokka was doing better than Zuko on the customer-service front, even if he was kind of a mess today. He mopped at the puddle of spilt tea in front of him, thanking the spirits that he had only upended a half-full cup onto an abandoned table, and not a fresh pot into the lap of one of the snobbish women huddling in the back corner.

He was just… distracted. His mind kept wandering back to last night without his permission. The sound Zuko had made, nothing more than a catch in the back of his throat, when their lips brushed. How he’d looked in the low light, his fingers curled in the front of Sokka’s shirt, like he’d subconsciously wanted to keep him close.

Something clattered behind him, and Sokka glanced over in time to catch Zuko’s eye over the broken saucer at his feet. Sokka grinned, and Zuko narrowed his eyes at him, and then cut them over to glare at the man poised to complain about the cakes that had been on that saucer, now scattered on the floor.

The man wilted, and Zuko stomped back into the kitchen before Sokka could say anything. Pao was going to wonder why they’d broken so many dishes on their first day, but Sokka didn’t even care. He was too busy wondering, with a warm flush unfolding in his chest, if Zuko was distracted for the same reason he was.

It was weird after weeks of traveling across the Earth Kingdom to suddenly have a new apartment overnight, with rice in the cabinets to make breakfast, left behind by Iroh’s pai sho friends. It was even more strange to have a job now, after so long without money to buy… well, anything, really. But the weirdest part, by far, had to be—

Sokka watched as Zuko came back out of the kitchen and all but dumped the fresh plate of cakes onto the corner table.

Zuko glanced up just then and caught his eye. Sokka wasn’t even doing anything, just looking at him, but Zuko turned bright red beneath the high collar of his work robes as soon as he noticed. The look he shot back at Sokka was supposed to be annoyed, and maybe a little suspicious, but Sokka was on to him by now, and he only managed to look flustered.

Well, at least the glaring was comfortingly familiar, even if it had lost its bite weeks ago, and would probably never manage to be intimidating again, now that the image of Zuko as a tea server had solidified itself in his mind.

It was an enormous relief when the last customer finally made their way out the door. Sokka poked his head into the kitchen, and was entirely unsurprised to see Iroh pouring tea, first for Pao, and then for himself.

“Now, about our wages,” Iroh said.

“Of course,” Pao said. He looked like he’d sucked on a pomelo lemon as soon as the words left his mouth. “How careless of me. We can discuss it now.”

He gestured grudgingly toward the back room, and Iroh just smiled politely like he didn’t notice the reluctance. Sokka lingered in the kitchen for a few minutes, finishing the last of the dishes in the sink. He had to poke through the cabinets to try to figure out where everything went, because Pao was maybe the worst boss in the world, and hadn’t bothered to teach them anything before letting them take over.

“My feet are killing me,” Sokka said. He didn’t understand how walking around serving tea all day could be so exhausting. They’d crossed the whole Earth Kingdom, for spirits’ sake, and somehow a couple of hours of taking orders and washing dishes had done him in. He groaned theatrically and stretched his back. Sokka snuck a glance at Zuko, who was being suspiciously quiet, considering that grumbling about Sokka’s complaining was one of his favorite hobbies.

“Everything okay?” Sokka asked.

“Fine,” Zuko said. “Uncle should be finished soon, so…”

Sokka waited for him to finish that thought, but all Zuko did for a long moment was frown at a spot on the countertop as he scrubbed furiously at it. When he didn’t say anything more, Sokka shrugged and tugged his apron off over his head.

“Actually, Sokka, wait,” Zuko said. He caught his hand, then let go almost as quickly. “Can we… let’s go outside.”

“Oh, sure,” he said.

The back door of the kitchen led out into the narrow alley, cramped and partly blocked from view of the street by the heavy stone trash bins pressed up against the wall. Sokka made a face and stepped around what he really hoped was just tea leaf juices, leaking from the cracked edge of one of the bins.

Zuko was watching him with an uncharacteristically nervous expression. It must have shown on Sokka’s face, because his expression slipped much more firmly into a scowl—that was better, Sokka thought—and then back to nervous again, like he couldn’t decide how to feel, or like he was worried Sokka was going to take it the wrong way. Sokka huffed an exasperated little laugh and caught Zuko’s hand. He squeezed it lightly, just once.

“What’s up?” he asked.

“I’ve just been thinking. About last night,” he said. Sokka grinned at that, and Zuko rolled his eyes, fighting another blush and looking supremely annoyed about it, much to Sokka’s delight. “Not like—well, a little like that. But, no. I’ve just been thinking about how... you and I… it’s new, and Uncle...”

The door to the kitchen was still firmly closed. In the middle of the alley, this late in the afternoon, they were mostly concealed in shadow from anyone who might glance their way from the street. Still, Zuko looked like he was half-expecting someone to leap out and catch them here at any moment. And… actually, he’d definitely been acting that way last night, too. The two thoughts slotted together in his mind, and Sokka hummed in understanding.

“You want to just keep it between us?” Sokka guessed. Zuko sagged with relief.

“Yes. Just for a while,” Zuko said. “I need to think. Or, plan what I’m going to tell him, or…”

Zuko shrugged a little helplessly. Sokka squeezed his hand again.

“I love a good plan,” Sokka said encouragingly.

He fidgeted with his sleeve for a moment, and then huffed, a frustrated little puff of heat.

“He’ll be okay with it,” Zuko insisted, a little defensively, like he was worried Sokka would get the wrong idea. Sokka obviously didn’t know him as well as Zuko did, but they had been traveling together for a while, so he thought he at least had a good idea of what they were both like at this point.

“I kind of figured,” Sokka said easily. He was going for reassurance, but for some reason the words just made Zuko tense. Sokka watched him frown a little, darting a quick glance back at the kitchen door. Zuko’s expression wobbled slightly before he turned away to catch Sokka’s eye.

“You think it’s stupid,” Zuko said tightly. “That I haven’t told him.”

“No!” Sokka said. “Why would I?”

Zuko eyed him, fingers twisting in his sleeve, frowning like he was looking for a lie.

“He’ll probably be happy,” Zuko said, although it sounded like he was trying to convince himself, more than Sokka. “He wants me to act normal. Or… be normal.”

Zuko was about the furthest thing from normal there was, and Sokka wasn’t just saying that because he was a prince. It was more like… there were people like Pao, who badly ran teashops and were perfectly happy with that, and then there were people like Zuko. Sokka didn’t exactly believe in destiny, but he did believe in potential, and Zuko wasn’t the kind of person to be satisfied with a boring life.

He certainly didn’t look very happy at the idea of a boring life, but then again, Sokka didn’t think that Iroh wanted Zuko to pretend to be something he wasn’t, even if that was what Zuko thought he’d meant.

“Well, buddy,” Sokka said, dusting a bit of imaginary lint off the front of Zuko’s apron. “I don’t think you’d know normal if it hit you between the eyes. I like you better this way, anyway.”

Zuko scoffed, and squinted at Sokka, and then back toward the teashop door. Whatever he saw must have satisfied him, because Zuko hauled him forward by the front of his robe and kissed him. For how shifty he was about it, Zuko was… really good at kissing, not that Sokka had a ton of kisses to compare it to, but still—

Sokka made a soft sound in his throat and leaned in. Even that quiet noise made Zuko blush. He glanced to the side, quickly, like he half-expected someone to have heard them and come storming down the alley to catch them in the act. Sokka was grinning like a dope. Zuko glanced back at him and fixed him with a grumpy glare that was fooling exactly no one, and then turned to let himself back inside the shop.

The only aviary in the Lower Ring was all the way on the opposite side of the city, nestled in one half of a cramped stone building. The street was poorly maintained, and just slightly too narrow for a cart to pass through. The locals seemed to have taken that as permission to take it over, so that Sokka found himself weaving through loitering pedestrians and pop-up market stalls. Every few minutes the monorail rattled overhead, drowning out the din of conversation. No one batted an eye at the noise, carrying on with their lives as the dust from the tracks rained down on their heads.

There was an elderly woman sitting on an upturned cabbage crate across from the winehouse, frying buns in a little makeshift fire pit he was sure the city guards wouldn’t approve of, if they could make it this far down the street to stop her. The whole setup was clearly designed for a quick getaway in case someone came along wanting pesky things like up-to-code storefronts, and non-forged business licenses, and administrative fees paid to the city for the privilege of trying to make a living. The makeshift arrangement clearly wasn’t hurting her sales. He paused to watch as she plucked a golden-brown bun straight out of the oil with her fingers, and then wiped them on her sleeve when she was done. It smelled amazing, and her line was wrapping so far down the block that it was actually a little hard to get around them.

He had a little money. Very little, because Pao was cheap and the rent was not. He couldn’t afford to waste it, so he passed by with only a wistful look in her direction.

Sokka had to double back twice before he managed to find the entrance to the aviary. It didn’t look that much different from the rest of the apartment buildings on the street, and the sign wasn’t very obvious on its front. Clearly, not many people visited that weren’t already familiar with the place.

There was a group of men gambling around a makeshift table outside the apartment next door. Sokka didn’t think he was imagining the way they were all eyeing him as he climbed the stairs to the aviary. He let himself inside the sparsely decorated room.

It was empty, other than a single woman standing stiffly behind the counter, almost like she’d been poised and waiting for him to arrive. If not for the muffled sounds of the carrier pigeon shrikes tittering in the back room, Sokka might have worried he’d come to the wrong place.

Sokka pulled the stack of letters from his bag, already a little wrinkled just from the walk across the ring. He’d actually had a bit of trouble finding the paper for it. Pao, of course, had insisted that the shop’s supply was off limits. The only kind of paper Sokka could afford for himself was thin and weirdly woody, and it tore frustratingly easily. He’d pettily snuck a brush and inkstone into the back of the store to write them when Pao wasn’t around to catch him.

Sokka had used the map Zuko had stolen to try to narrow down a few likely places that Aang and Katara might stop—mostly military bases, because they were sure to have the means to make sure their mail arrived safely, or places near large Earth Kingdom cities, which were sure to be friendly to them and their allies. Of course, Sokka didn’t know who to address any of the letters to, specifically, other than just to the care of… whoever was in charge, he guessed, with instructions to deliver the letter to Aang if he passed through. He wasn’t even sure if they’d deliver them, except… well, he just had to hope that seeing a letter addressed to the Avatar would be enough encouragement to pass it along.

He didn’t have any better ideas, anyway. Aang and Katara could be anywhere in the Earth Kingdom, by now. They could have found an earthbending master and left by now, and his letters might just reach their destinations and sit unclaimed—

But he didn’t have any better ideas. So.

The woman’s gaze flicked down to the wrinkled stack of letters for only a moment before she glanced back up with the same fixed smile.

“I need to send these letters to the military bases in…” Sokka trailed off and picked at the knot in the twine holding them together, “...well, all over the Earth Kingdom, actually. I’m trying to... heh, cover my bases, I guess.”

She didn’t laugh. She just blinked at him, her too-wide smile stretched thin. Sokka shifted. He rubbed his thumb along the edge of the counter.

“...Right,” Sokka said. “So. The letters?”

“Are you sure you wouldn’t prefer to send a letter somewhere else?” she asked brightly.

“Uh… no,” he said. “Just these.”

“Ba Sing Se’s postal system is the best in the nation,” she said. “Perhaps you’d like to send a letter within the city?”

“Well, actually, I think Omashu’s mail system…” Sokka said. “Although, I guess with the Fire Nation—”

She cleared her throat sharply, and Sokka cut off mid-sentence. The smile on her face stayed the same. A beat of silence stretched, but she didn’t actually say anything, watching him patiently as though she hadn’t just interrupted him. He shifted on his feet.

“Uh. Anyway, these letters kind of need to go to the military bases, specifically,” Sokka said. “I just think they’d be safer there. You know, less likely to get intercepted by—”

“I’m not sure I understand,” she interrupted.

“It’s...” Sokka trailed off, baffled. “Well, I guess I could send them to… the village posts, or something, I just figured, since the military relays plenty of messages, that my letters would reach them.” He glanced down at the stack. “It’s just in case my friend passes through. I wanted to be… thorough, with the war—”

“There is no war in Ba Sing Se,” she assured him.

“What?” Sokka said. “No, I mean, these are—”

“So I don’t understand—” she continued, at the same time.

Sokka made a frustrated noise in his throat, and she cut off mid sentence, her smile still carefully in place.

“These are going outside Ba Sing Se,” Sokka said, “so just take them, and tell me how much they’re going to cost to send!”

“Of course,” she said with a smile. Her fingers curled delicately around the paper, like she was handling a priceless work of art, and not a crumpled stack of notes written with a stolen ink brush. “I’d be happy to help you with that.”

He had three coppers left, after paying for the postage. The woman smiled at him and said nothing else until he awkwardly turned to go.

The men all turned to stare at him again when he stepped outside. One shook his head. The man across from him smiled sharply.

“Hey, kid,” he said. “Welcome to Ba Sing Se.”

Zuko was sweeping in the corner. More accurately, he was sort of pushing the dirt around in circles, and had been for the last half hour. Sokka honestly couldn’t tell at this point whether he actually thought that was doing anything, or if he was just being stubborn because of how rudely Pao had foisted a broom on him.

That was fine though, because it was a slow day. There was only one couple at a table in the back corner, and they had been humming over the menu for almost as long as Zuko had been not-sweeping. Sokka had been hovering pointedly, inching closer until they finally took the hint and glanced up to wave him over. After all of that indecision, they ordered a single pot of jasmine tea to share.

Sokka ripped the order slip off and handed it to Iroh.

“Perhaps we can go shopping after we close,” Iroh said.

Sokka brightened at that. Zuko made a face.

“Uncle, you’re not wasting our entire paycheck on your bargain hunting,” he said. “We have stuff already. We don’t need more stuff.”

“Nonsense. We want the apartment to look nice, in case any of us decides to bring home a friend,” Iroh said, with an uncomfortable emphasis on friend. He was staring right at the side of Zuko’s head, not that Zuko would know it, with how suddenly fascinating the broom had become. “Or maybe not,” Iroh added. “The apartment will still be nice, even if it’s just the three of us…”

Zuko’s head snapped up, a look of abject mortification flashing across his face, and Sokka nearly choked on a laugh. Iroh didn’t notice, or maybe just pretended not to, shuffling off toward the back room with the order slip in his hand. Zuko was bright red, and the woman at the table in the back shot them both a curious look. Sokka was blushing too, mostly torn between amused and flustered, but Zuko looked a little bit like he wanted to sink through the floor, and like he was strongly considering hunting down an earthbender to help him.

“So,” Sokka said, after the back room door swung closed.

“Yeah,” Zuko said.

“Your uncle definitely knows.”

“I know,” Zuko snapped. Sokka elbowed him, before he could get too in his own head about it, or maybe before he fell back on the Zuko-approved method of handling being stressed out: yelling very loudly and scaring away their customers. Zuko sighed, but he looked, wow, a lot more nervous than he probably had any reason to be.

“I think Pao’s gone home for the day,” Sokka said. It was barely noon, but whatever, the guy sucked at making tea and he could do what he wanted as the owner, anyway. “You could go talk to him. I don’t mind covering for you.”

Zuko looked a little bit like he was going to throw up. Sokka pried the broom out of his hand, a reassuring smile tugging at his lips. He only resisted a little before finally forcing his fingers to uncurl. He blew out a quiet breath and headed toward the back room.

The market near the Middle Ring was nicer than the streets around the aviary, if only because they had a little more space to spread out. There was a lot more variety here, too, between the permanent storefronts and the temporary stalls set up in the walkways. He’d seen a few guards walking along the street corner, too, so Sokka guessed these stalls were actually allowed to be here.

It was a shame that he’d spent almost his entire paycheck on sending those letters… but at least he could browse, and window shop, and take a mental note of what kinds of things he might want to come back for, later, when he had the money, even if he couldn’t afford to buy anything today.

Zuko looked a lot less interested, eyeing everything his uncle offered up to him with impatience at best.

“We don’t need any of this stuff,” Zuko said. “I have clothes. I’m wearing clothes right now.”

...Yeah, having spending money was wasted on him.

For all his complaining, he still followed Iroh through the marketplace with somewhat reluctant indulgence. Sokka nudged him with his elbow.

“No wonder you never wanted to let us stop,” he said.

“We’d have needed a cart,” Zuko said. He sighed and stepped over to pry the wallet out of Iroh’s hand while he was distracted. “Uncle, give me that before you waste it all on junk.”

The stall owner made an affronted noise. Zuko didn’t look the least bit apologetic, and Iroh didn’t pay him any mind. Sokka watched Iroh pick up a heavy clay pot nearly as big as his head. The potter seemed to have picked him out for an easy mark, because he was leaning animatedly over the table to discuss the craftsmanship. Hand thrown, not earthbended, the sign boasted, and Iroh was listening intently to the merits of the technique.

Sokka slipped a hand into Zuko’s, and it was like he’d jammed a wrench into his gears. Zuko froze, and stared at him, and then had the audacity to look suspicious when Sokka smiled at him.

“No junk,” Zuko said pointedly, which was just rude. Sokka wanting to hold his hand had nothing to do with the fact that he was holding the wallet. That was slander and character assassination and also—

“It’s not junk if we need it,” Sokka said, plaintively. Zuko scoffed, but that sounded suspiciously like a laugh, which meant weakness. Before Sokka could press the point, Zuko groaned.

Sokka turned to where he was looking and then had to hide a laugh behind his hand. Iroh had abandoned the pots and was making his way toward the food stalls across the aisle. If Sokka wasn’t mistaken, he recognized the older woman behind the closest stall, who seemed to have caught Iroh’s eye and was smiling at him from beneath her lashes.

They’d cut right through this area on that first night, fresh off the monorail and dead tired. The whole street had been deserted then, without a single trace of the vendors and market stalls beyond the closed and locked storefronts. This must be one of the day markets that had been recommended to them by a couple of Iroh’s… chattier customers. Sokka thought this woman had said she ran a bakery, or maybe it was just a pastry cart… he couldn’t remember, but either way, he wasn’t particularly interested in sticking around to listen to Iroh flirt, and by the look on his face, Zuko wasn’t, either.

“I think I’m gonna look around,” Sokka said. Zuko perked up immediately.

“I’ll come with—” Zuko started to say.

“Lee, come over here for a moment,” Iroh called, already turning back to the woman behind the stall. “My nephew will help me decide, since he has volunteered to carry our pocket money.”

Zuko groaned under his breath, and the look he shot Sokka was caught somewhere between murderous and pleading. Sokkka clapped him on the shoulder in solidarity… and gave him a little shove in his uncle’s direction. Sokka snickered, ignoring the daggers of absolute betrayal Zuko sent him. He quickly ducked behind a different stall, before Iroh decided he needed Sokka’s opinion as well.

He wandered the market aisles for a while, poking over stalls full of things he couldn’t afford, enjoying the warm afternoon sun on his back. A thrift store at the edge of the marketplace caught his eye, tucked away in a less crowded corner where the line in front of a street food stall was steering the foot traffic around it. The bold discount signs in the window caught his eye more than anything—he did enjoy browsing through stuff, but he liked the idea of buying the stuff even more.

The door was propped open with a little lump of stone, earthbended into place to keep it from being kicked aside by the bustling crowd. The shelves were so packed with assorted trinkets that it muffled the sounds of the street. He turned sideways to shuffle past the overflowing barrel of rugs partially blocking the door.

There was a woman leaning against a short antique writing desk at the back, which seemed to be functioning as the counter, overstuffed with the shop’s ledger and an overflowing stack of receipt slips on a peg at the corner. Sokka offered her a little wave. She smiled at him, even though she barely glanced up from her book.

She was certainly a lot less annoyed to see him than the last time he’d been in a shop like this. Maybe that was just because this time he looked slightly less like he’d crawled out of a donation box—or maybe it was because she was less worried about her profits than the last guy. There were no prices on any of the shelves, and the items were much, much more eclectic than the pawned off items he’d picked through in that coastal general store. The things at the front looked newer, and fancier. Sokka turned his very light purse over in his pocket and wandered toward the bargain bins at the back.

There was plenty of stoneware, cups and bowls and tea sets in various colors and designs, which Iroh might have appreciated, but Sokka skimmed past. Most of the bargains were pieces of furniture, a writing desk here or a jewelry box there. Some of them were nice, even, but Sokka didn’t have any use for them in their tiny apartment, and it wasn’t like he had enough personal items to even need extra storage.

Sokka skipped past the clothes, since most of these were either wrinkly and threadbare, or the absolute strangest pieces of clothing Sokka had ever seen. The source of the costumes became clear a moment later, when Sokka discovered a few worn instruments… for sound effects, maybe, and a barrel full of dull wooden weapons, all beside a missorted pile of playbills and scripts from a theatre that had sold its entire stock.

Sokka thumbed the edge of the stack of plays. They were written on cheap paper and sloppily bound, so that some of the pages at the front and the back of the booklets were loose. He flipped one open gently and skimmed over the script. There were more annotations and character blocking than lines on some pages. It had probably been passed along in the same playhouse for years—he couldn’t imagine a Lower Ring theater troupe being able to afford to buy new.

Sokka set the stack down. He hesitated, and picked them up again. He skimmed over the synopsis at the front of the booklet, only half reading. These were sort of—they might be interesting to read, if you liked that kind of stuff. Sokka cleared his throat.

“How much are these?” he asked.

The woman glanced up from her book.

“Five coppers,” she said.

Oh. Sokka frowned at the stack. Maybe—well, maybe if she’d sell them separately…

“How much have you got, kid?” she asked.

“Huh? Oh, uh,” he trailed off and fished around in his pocket for the last of his paycheck, “sorry, just three.”

“I can do three,” she said.

“Really?” he asked.

Her lips quirked into a smile, and the knowing look in her eye made him flush.

Sokka paid and carefully packed the scripts into his bag. There was a short stone wall on the other side of the market, separating the pedestrian area from a more heavily trafficked street. He sat with his back to the ostrich horse drawn carts trundling down the road and pulled the scripts out to skim through them.

Zuko had said he liked dramas. There were a couple of those here, and romances, and a historical tragedy set in an Earth Kingdom town Sokka had never heard of, but that must have been popular, if the deep creases folded into the pages were any indication of how much use the booklet had gotten. He sorted through them all until he found one that seemed interesting, a drama about a thief that Sokka thought Zuko probably hadn’t read yet. The inside cover said it was only published a few years ago, and the setting was in the far north of the Earth Kingdom mainland, not likely to have much appeal to the Fire Nation traders who might have picked their way through the Earth Kingdom’s entertainment on the coasts.

Sokka set that one on top, smoothed the stack down with care, and tucked it back into his bag. Then he headed back toward the market, a little twist of nervousness fluttering in his stomach, and scanned the crowd.

“There you are,” Sokka said.

Zuko was alone, so he must have managed to escape from Iroh at some point—though clearly he hadn’t managed to escape unscathed.

He was wearing a new jacket, bright green with dark brown embroidery and golden clasps that shone in the light. It was a lot gaudier than he would have picked for himself, which probably meant that Iroh had pushed it on him at some point in his shopping spree. The thought made Sokka smile.

Zuko squinted at him, preemptively annoyed at the look on Sokka’s face. He really had no faith, honestly… well, now he had no choice but to tease him, since he was expecting it, but that was his own fault. Sokka smirked and smoothed down the front of Zuko’s jacket, brushing some imaginary dust off his shoulder. Zuko swatted his hand away with an annoyed huff.

“You look nice,” Sokka said. The words came out a little more genuine than teasing, but ah well. It was true. That, predictably, just earned him a grumpy look, but Zuko’s cheeks did turn a shade darker at the compliment.

“Just wait until you see what he picked for you,” Zuko grumbled.

Sokka laughed, and Zuko nudged him.

“Have you eaten?” he asked. He gave Sokka a chagrined smile, “Uncle said I should ask you. Insisted, really.”

“Like a date?” Sokka asked, just to see Zuko’s embarrassed flush deepen. “Does that mean you’re going to treat me? Because this is probably where I should mention that I don’t actually have any money left—”

Zuko snorted.

“You’re as bad as Uncle,” he said, but the look on his face was fond enough that it made Sokka’s stomach flutter. Their palms brushed, just barely. Sokka grinned and slid up next to him to lace their fingers together properly, so their shoulders brushed against each other with every step. Zuko turned like he was scanning the marketplace for somewhere to eat, like that might keep Sokka from noticing the embarrassed flush creeping up his neck, or the little flicker of a pleased smile that made Sokka’s heart stumble in his chest.

“Did you see anything that looked good?” Sokka asked, following Zuko’s gaze toward the food vendors. “Or we could go somewhere else. Hey, you know what, between my charm and your fancy coat, maybe they’d let us into the Middle Ring! I bet you’d fit right in.”

“I guess,” Zuko agreed at length, but he looked a lot more unhappy with the thought than the promise of fancy Middle Ring food warranted.

Ah.

Iroh had said that they would all need time to settle in and adjust to a new city. He wasn’t really sure if that was what put that look on Zuko’s face, though. Sokka frowned thoughtfully.

“Come on, I have a better idea,” Sokka said, tugging Zuko toward the market exit.

The streets near the aviary were just as packed as the last time he’d come through, only with a different, slightly rowdier crowd. The woman selling the buns was still there, though her line had dwindled down some with the hour. It looked like she’d sold out on most of her flavors, not that it really mattered, considering that she didn’t seem to be asking anyone for their preference beyond how many they wanted.

It smelled even better than the last time he’d been through here, if that was possible. Zuko made a skeptical face at her setup, his eyebrow twitching just slightly when she wiped her hand on her sleeve before grabbing the next bun, and Sokka tried to hide his laugh. She must have noticed the look on Zuko’s face, because she narrowed her eyes at him before she pointedly added an extra bun to their stack.

There wasn’t anywhere fancy to sit over here, considering that this street wasn’t really designed to be a gathering place. Sokka let Zuko juggle their dinner while he found them a clean corner to sit, away from the shadow of the monorail where the dust was worse. Fresh out of the oil, the buns were too hot to eat. Zuko took a bite from his bun anyway, and Sokka ripped his in half and blew on it to help it cool. He watched as Zuko settled.

Zuko looked a lot more comfortable here, happier getting his new robe dirty and eating food stand buns than he would have been in a Middle Ring restaurant. Maybe he’d settle in eventually. He was clearly trying to, because he thought that was what his uncle wanted. Sokka sucked a bit of sauce off his thumb and hummed.

“You know,” Sokka said casually, “you don’t have to pretend to like it here.”

Zuko’s head snapped up like he’d been caught sneaking seal jerky from Gran Gran’s stash.

“I do like it here,” he insisted immediately.

“Zuko,” Sokka said quietly.

Zuko glanced at him, and then away. He sighed.

“...Uncle likes it here,” Zuko amended.

Sokka hummed in agreement.

“And Uncle worked hard to get us here,” he said.

Sokka hummed again, watching Zuko out of the corner of his eye.

“So what’s the problem?” he asked.

Zuko considered that for a long moment. Sokka let him, turning patiently back to his own food. Zuko wasn’t really eating his, just fidgeting with it. He was ripping little pieces off the edge of his bun and piling it up on the corner of his napkin.

Zuko huffed.

“My father told me that if I brought him the Avatar, I could go home,” he said quietly.

He said it so suddenly, so matter-of-factly, that Sokka almost choked.

“He told you that?” Sokka asked. Zuko shrank a little under the weight of his gaze. He didn’t mean to stare, it was just… Zuko had told him about his banishment, and he already knew that he’d been annoyingly determined to catch Aang. Sokka had kind of figured that was just impulsive Zuko logic, making things hard for himself, convincing himself that capturing Aang for the Fire Nation would fulfill some dumb destiny thing.

Knowing that it was Zuko’s father who had put him up to it, years before there was even a reason to believe that the Avatar was alive—

Ozai had to know there was no chance. It was luck that he’d even stumbled across Aang. Dangling false hope like that was beyond cruel.

“That’s all I wanted. For years I was… well. You know. I just thought that if I could do what he’d asked of me...”

Zuko hesitated.

“I’d hoped that he would… forgive me,” he tried instead, but those words didn’t come any easier. He glanced over at Sokka, looking conflicted. More than that, he looked self-conscious, like he expected Sokka to judge him for that, which…

He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t judging, a little, but not for the reason Zuko probably thought he was.

Spirits, that was just—an evil thing to do to his own son, and on top of everything else—

Sokka was regretting the greasy bun, a little, because the thought made him so angry that his stomach rolled. He didn’t even know he could hate the Fire Lord any more than he already did, but apparently Ozai would keep finding new and creative ways to disgust him.

It was kind of amazing that Zuko hadn’t given up, considering how hopeless it must have felt. Sokka probably would have, if his dad had sent him away like that. Then again, Sokka was pretty sure that Zuko just… didn’t know how to give up.

He could kind of understand the anger now, though. Three years with nothing but desperate, stubborn hope that his father hadn’t just thrown him away on a fool’s errand, and then finally when he thought he might have a real chance… a happy-go-lucky kid like Aang came along, kicked his butt, and stole his last chance of going home again.

It didn’t make it right, but Sokka definitely understood.

Zuko scowled at the ripped up bun balanced on his lap.

“It was all for nothing, anyway,” he said. “And… I’m not stupid. I could tell Uncle didn’t want me to do it. Uncle thinks my father is—He thinks I shouldn’t even care, because of what he… did.”

He glanced at Sokka with a thin expression, like he was worried that Sokka was going to make him explain. Zuko’s father had done a lot of things that any good and normal person wouldn’t approve of, so maybe he would have needed clarification, except… it was obvious what Zuko meant, that he was talking about the scar. Sokka’s chest tightened at the look on his face.

Sokka squeezed his hand, even though it didn’t remotely feel like enough. It wasn’t as comforting as Sokka should have made it, his fingers were a little greasy from the buns, but Zuko didn’t seem to mind. He just looked relieved, turning his attention back to the food in his lap.

“I just figured that Uncle doesn’t know what he’s talking about,” Zuko said, “because I’ve tried not caring, and it doesn’t work.”

That didn’t surprise Sokka at all, because in his experience, Zuko cared about everything, a lot, very intensely and basically all the time. Sokka highly doubted stop caring was what Iroh had meant, when he’d tried nudging Zuko in the right direction, but then, Zuko was never very good at picking apart his uncle’s metaphors.

“At least when I was hunting the Avatar I had a goal. I knew my destiny. Or—I thought I did,” he said. “But now that I’m here I don’t know anymore, and that’s kind of…”

“Scary?” Sokka suggested.

“No,” Zuko said immediately, stubbornly.

Sokka chuckled and squeezed his hand again.

“You know,” he said. “Maybe it’s weird, since the Avatar is basically my best friend, but I don’t think I believe in destiny.”

Zuko made a face at him, because they’d had this argument before on the road, when they’d been talking about Aunt Wu and her dumb prophecies. Sokka smiled and held up a finger to Zuko’s lips before he could interrupt him.

“I just mean, I don’t think there’s a special answer for what you are or aren’t supposed to do,” he said. “Just… I don’t know. Trust your instincts. That works great for me. And… find people who are worth the effort. People who actually care about you—”

“Like Uncle,” Zuko sighed.

“Like me,” Sokka said happily.

That made Zuko flush, and Sokka couldn’t help but grin. His stomach was squirming with butterflies, but it wasn’t a bad feeling, and he didn’t want to let it go. Zuko looked more relaxed, some of the uncertain tension easing out of his shoulders. Sokka leaned a little closer, so that his weight was pressing against Zuko’s side, and Zuko opened up his arm a little to let him in. He picked at the rest of his bun quietly, listening to the din of the street and the distant squabbling drifting toward them from the gamblers set up on their usual stoop.

Sokka cleared his throat. Zuko glanced his way, curious.

“So… I bought something,” Sokka said. “I mean, for you. I bought something for you.”

He rubbed his greasy fingers on his pant leg, hesitating, and then tipped his head down to search through his bag. He’d set the scripts on top, so it wasn’t like he had to dig for them or anything, but he still spent a moment leafing his fingers through the pages indecisively before pulling out the one he’d set on top. Sokka watched Zuko turn it over in his hands before flipping through the front of the script, nerves crawling in his stomach.

Maybe this was a bad idea. The ones he’d flipped through earlier had seemed kind of sappy. Zuko had liked that romance, even though he insisted it wasn’t one, it was a political drama, but still, that didn’t mean he’d like these.

“They weren’t that expensive, so it’s okay if you don’t… I mean,” Sokka said. “Maybe just forget it. I didn’t even check if you’d read these ones.”

He was sure he hadn’t, because these were Earth Kingdom plays, and not that old, but—

“Or we can take them back,” Sokka said. “Or just throw them away. They’re all ripped up anyway, so that would be fine, too—”

“Sokka,” Zuko said. Sokka cut himself off, heart stumbling a little at the amused smile on Zuko’s face. He flushed, expecting teasing, but before he could stammer through a defense Zuko squeezed his hand. “Thank you.”

“I have more,” Sokka said. “She had a whole stack of them. I put the rest in my bag, if you want to look through them.”

“Yeah,” Zuko said fondly. “Um, later. I actually... got something for you, too.”

Sokka perked up at that. He could feel a grin tugging at his lips—he did love stuff—and something about the look on his face made Zuko laugh. He had a nice laugh, quiet and a little raspy, and the sound was enough to make Sokka’s stomach flip. Zuko dug around in his bag for a moment, and so Sokka took advantage of the opportunity to admire the way his eyelashes dusted against his unscarred cheek, the light nervous flush creeping up his neck.

He hesitated a little. Sokka didn’t push, and definitely didn’t blame him, because… yeah, his last attempt at gift-giving hadn’t exactly gone well, and Sokka was feeling the anticipation a little, too. Zuko glanced up and smiled almost self-deprecatingly, like he’d had the same thought. He set the little wooden box lightly on Sokka’s upturned palm.

The contents rattled loosely around when he shook it. Sokka peeked at the little stack of wood tiles settled inside, a couple of them mismatched like they’d belonged to a different set. The board itself was a little scratched, probably because the lining of the case had long since torn out, if the little fraying thready edges still clinging to the box were any indication. The lid was cracked next to the hinge, so that it stuck a little when he tried to close it again, and there were little flecks of white on the side that hinted it might have been painted once.

It was perfect.

“It’s not as nice as the other one. There… might be a couple tiles missing,” Zuko said. He paused, and then rushed to add, “but I paid for it this time.”

Sokka brought his hand up to Zuko’s cheek and kissed him. He sucked in a little breath and went very still, and Sokka waited, patiently, not pushing, to see whether Zuko would lean away. Zuko’s fingers curled around Sokka’s robe at the hip, tentatively like he wasn’t sure the touch was welcome. Sokka made an encouraging sound, and Zuko sighed and pulled him closer, squashing the pai sho set and the playbook between them. Zuko’s breath hitched when Sokka pulled back, and the sound made something warm and fond curl in his chest. He tilted his forehead against Zuko’s temple.

“Okay?” Sokka asked.

Zuko nodded silently, like his response was stuck in his throat, and Sokka kissed him again.

Chapter Text

There wasn’t much to do in their neighborhood after dusk. The busier streets of the Lower Ring never seemed to quiet down, even late at night, but their apartment was far from the nightlife and the transit hubs. Most of the businesses over here closed early in the evening, doors locked and shutters drawn.

Sokka wasn’t entirely sure why. It wasn’t as though crime was any worse here than it was anywhere else where you concentrated a lot of desperate and lonely people, and for the most part their neighbors all seemed to know each other and look out for one another. He’d asked the grocer on the corner, once, but she’d brushed him off without much of an explanation beyond telling him to go home, and that there was nothing out there for him after dark. She’d watched him go with a complicated look on her face, and then turned back to locking her door.

For all that the Lower Ring was run down, and the guards were few and far between, he certainly felt watched, walking the streets in the late evening. He’d heard whispers about what happens if you disrupt the peace in the city, and the Dai Lee catch you...

So no, he’d gotten the distinct impression that running into vandals and muggers and rowdy late-night winehouse patrons was not what their neighbors worried about.

The cozy lighting in their living room wasn’t the best to read by, but it was good enough for playing Pai Sho. Their apartment was situated so that the light from the street lamps only barely reached them. They had a single, small lantern in their apartment, lit with a pair of spark rocks and left glowing on the countertop.

Watching Zuko trying to use a pair of spark rocks for the first time, by the way? Absolutely hilarious. It was like watching Momo try to crack open a hazel walnut with a rock. The mental image was totally worth the glare he’d earned when he hadn’t been able to keep himself from laughing.

There wasn’t much space at the table, and anyway, the one that had already been in the apartment when they’d moved in was one of those tall, Earth Kingdom style ones with high chairs, and they only had two. They’d sprawled out on the floor in the living room instead—or, Sokka had sprawled, and Iroh had settled into a lotus pose across from him. Zuko had been sitting upright, but he’d been slouching more and more against Sokka’s side as the hours wore on.

Zuko was obviously bored, and maybe regretting the gift, a little, now that he’d remembered that he didn’t actually like this game very much. He’d been reading the script Sokka gave him earlier, but eventually he’d shifted over to watch them from the corner of his eye while he read, and then the booklet had been set aside entirely. That had been several games ago. Now he leaned against Sokka’s side with his cheek pressed against his shoulder, gaze half-lidded as he watched them play.

Sokka was getting a lot better at this game—not that much better, though, compared to Iroh, who he was starting to suspect could have given even some of the master Pai Sho players who he’d heard made careers of this stuff in the Upper Ring a run for their money. He’d proved that with a round playing the Blind Bag Gambit, plucking random tiles without looking and playing whatever combinations he managed to pull, and even with Sokka playing at his best, Iroh had still managed to turn a close game into a victory. He’d been playing a long time, he’d assured Sokka consolingly, and Sokka guessed that was probably true. At least when Iroh was going easy on him he managed to win about as many as he lost, and that kept the games fun.

Sokka hummed, considering his next move. He'd been staring at the board for almost ten minutes now, while Iroh watched with seemingly endless patience, occasionally smugly sipping his tea.

Or maybe it wasn’t smug, and Sokka was just projecting, because he could not figure out what Iroh was planning. He was pretty sure Iroh had noticed him trying to nudge him into playing his earth tiles. He’d expected that, but Iroh’s last move had totally thrown him off. He had no clue what Iroh was trying to do with the rose tile he’d just placed, but now he had to rethink his whole strategy. He wasn’t sure... but maybe if he just…

Zuko reached out and plucked one of the chrysanthemum tiles from the edge of the board.

“Zuko, no, not that one!” Sokka yelped, trying to snatch the tile before Zuko could move it for him. Zuko clicked it dully into place.

Iroh smiled, and moved his own tile decisively.

“Whoops,” Zuko said. “Looks like the game’s over. Better find something else to do.”

Sokka gaped at him.

“I can’t believe you,” Sokka said. “You—have you been good at this game the whole time?”

“No,” Zuko insisted stubbornly. “You lost, didn’t you?”

His expression took a distinctly shifty edge, like he was worried he’d tilted his hand. Which he had, because now that Sokka knew that Zuko knew how to play, too, he was never going to let it go.

“You did that on purpose,” he said. “You specifically played that tile because you knew it would make me lose! I had a whole plan and everything!”

Maybe ‘plan’ was a little bit generous, considering Iroh had basically just thrown his last strategy out the window, but still. He pouted. Zuko looked entirely unapologetic. Iroh hummed and began to clear the board.

“Perhaps,” Iroh agreed sagely. He stroked his beard as he considered the board, the tiles there and the ones he had yet to play. “Then again, no matter how elegant your own strategy may be, if you rely solely on anticipating your opponent’s actions, their own missteps can just as easily harm you as help you.”

He met Sokka’s gaze at that, with an amused glint in his eye that was kind of making Sokka wonder if maybe there wasn’t some brilliant strategy behind that seemingly-random Rose Tile Gambit he’d thought Iroh was going for. Sokka made an indignant sound and glanced back at the half cleared board with its poorly-placed rose tile. Iroh chuckled.

“I will add that it is often difficult to lure your enemy into furthering your own goals, even when it is in their best interests to do so,” Iroh said, with a pleased little glance in Zuko’s direction. Zuko stared at him blankly, because the only thing he had less patience for than Iroh’s flowering metaphors was Iroh’s pai sho advice. “Understanding not just your own best path forward, but your opponent’s as well, is a sign of true mastery of the game.”

Sokka snorted at Zuko’s stubborn frown, and the puzzled little crease of his brow, which always made an appearance when Iroh started waxing philosophically. Iroh just carried on clearing the board with a satisfied smile.

“Yeah, I’m going to bed,” Zuko declared, with a tone that very clearly indicated that what he really wanted to say was that’s nonsense, and I don’t understand it.

Iroh smiled indulgently, because seeing his advice go over Zuko’s head had never stopped him before, and it clearly wasn’t going to stop him now. “We do have an early morning ahead of us,” he agreed amiably.

“I can finish cleaning up,” Sokka said, scooping a few of the tiles into his hand. Iroh patted him on the shoulder as he stood to join Zuko. Sokka turned back to the board and continued sorting the tiles into stacks to return to the case. The floorboards creaked as Iroh moved toward the other room—when Sokka glanced over his shoulder Zuko had already disappeared into the bedroom, somehow as silent as a spirit on the old wooden floors. He could hear quiet murmuring through the window as their neighbors across the alley brought their laundry in off the line.

Now that Sokka knew Zuko was good at this game, maybe he’d be able to convince him to play with him. Maybe then Sokka would be able to win an actual game, and not just when Iroh was going easy on him. At this rate, he’d need all the help he could get if he ever hoped to beat Iroh. He’d said it took some people years to learn all the strategies, but Sokka was a quick study, so maybe with a few more weeks of practice, Iroh could stop going easy on him—

No, wait.

Sokka’s hand froze on the tile. He shouldn’t be thinking like that. He didn’t have weeks, and definitely not for something as pointless as playing Pai Sho. He should be planning how to get out of Ba Sing Se and figuring out where he was going next, not daydreaming about staying.

A little prickle of guilt soured his stomach. He was letting himself get… distracted, and meanwhile Katara was who-knows-where, probably fighting, probably in danger, while he sat around serving tea and playing board games.

He still hadn’t gotten a response from his last batch of letters. He’d swung by the aviary almost every other day, to check, and all he’d gotten from those little trips had been some odd looks from the old men who were always gambling on the stoop of the building next door.

He couldn’t just sit here and wait on the off chance that one of his letters managed to find their way to them. Zuko might not be chasing them anymore, but Azula probably was, never mind whatever opportunistic Fire Nation officers slid into the spaces left behind by Zhao and the rest of the men who’d been in command during the Siege of the North. Wherever Aang and Katara were now, they probably weren’t stopping very frequently. He was trying to hit a moving target here… one little batch of letters wasn’t going to cut it.

Maybe he’d stay up just a bit longer. He could write a few more letters, for the friendly ports along the western coast this time, just in case Aang and Katara went back that way. They’d get paid again in a couple days. He’d finish the letters now, and they’d be ready to go when he had the money to send them.

The attendant at the aviary was a different woman than last time. She had the same smile, though, same hair and clothes, same… name? Maybe it was just a common name, in the Earth Kingdom, like Lee…

Sokka slid the letters across the counter.

(She had, apparently, the same weird hang ups about mailing his letters where he wanted them to go, too.)

“There is no—” she said, and Sokka butted in before she could finish.

“Yeah, yes, I get it. I’ve heard it before,” he said. For a moment she eyed him like he was something wild, like she was afraid he was going to argue about the state of the war with her. He sighed. “Just—will you send them or not?”

“Of course,” she replied, with that stone-carved smile. “We’d be happy to send those for you.”

The aviary door stuck on his way outside. The recent rain probably hadn’t done them any favors here in the Lower Ring, where everything was as cheap as they could get away with. The wood was poorly sealed and had warped against its frame. Sokka huffed and threw his shoulder against it. He cringed when it unstuck with a little too much force and banged against the far wall. The sound made all the men glance up from their game, but then when they saw it was him they gave him that look again, the weird one that they always fixed him with.

Sokka hunched, feeling defensive, and went to stomp past them down the street. The man closest to him leaned out of his seat and caught Sokka’s arm on his way past. He bit his cheek to keep from snapping, because he was annoyed at the aviary clerk, not him, and the man was probably just drunk and overly friendly...

“A little bit of advice?” the man offered.

Sokka eased his arm out of the man’s grip, but he still hesitated. There was something about the seriousness of his expression that gave him pause. The man rubbed his thumb along the edge of his card, a nervous habit, and if he did that while he played it was no wonder the little pile of coins at his elbow was so much smaller than the rest of the table’s winnings. The man waited for him to nod before he continued.

“You’re pissing away your money,” he said. “They’re not doing anything good with those letters, and they’re sure as shit not sending them.”

The look on his face made something cold and heavy settle in Sokka’s stomach.

“What?” Sokka croaked. “It’s an aviary. What do you mean they’re not—?”

He was cut off by the sound of the monorail rattling by overhead. The men all leaned down to cup their hands over their wine, perfectly in sync, and the shower of dust from the tracks rained down a moment later. Sokka waved a hand in front of his face, coughing.

The man just brushed the dust off the table and took another drink. He almost looked exasperated when he glanced back up.

“They’re not sending them,” he said plainly, already turning back to his game. “This city likes her secrets to stay that way.”

The door to the teahouse kitchen was propped open with a wood block. Sokka moved to kick it aside on his way through, and then very nearly slipped. He only just managed to catch himself on the counter. Zuko turned and gave him a puzzled look, slopping more mop water onto the already soaking wet floor.

Sokka shoved the wooden block back into the gap under the door, because apparently Zuko was trying his hand at mopping again, and the floor would need all the help it could get to air dry. The door banged against the wall as he wedged it into place, maybe with a little more force than necessary.

“Is everything okay?” Zuko asked.

“No,” Sokka said immediately, too honest, and that made Zuko’s mouth tilt into a frown. Sokka sighed and roughly tugged his sleeves up to tie them back. The sink was already half full with discarded teapots—because his apparently worthless trip down to the aviary had made him late, and now he was already going to be behind when the dinner rush started. He glanced between the stack and the half-mopped, fully-waterlogged floor, then the rapidly filling tables he could just see beyond the peak of the door separating the back of the house from the front. He shook his head. “Sorry. Nevermind. It’s nothing.”

Zuko touched his arm lightly, drawing his attention back.

“Sokka,” he said, patiently, and then said nothing else, waiting for him to continue. The mop head was dripping steadily, and Zuko made no move to get back to work. Sokka huffed, and considered brushing him off again.

But this was Zuko, and he was pretty sure they’d get themselves fired before he ever managed to outlast his stubbornness, so:

“I don’t know,” Sokka said. “It’s just… this city.”

Zuko nodded hesitantly, though he looked like he wasn’t fully sure what Sokka meant—the tone of his voice made it pretty clear that Sokka wasn’t just talking about settling in, the way they had the other night.

“Everyone acts like—not even like the war is over, they act like there is no war. Everyone I talk to gets weird when I try to bring it up. You’ve noticed that, right?”

Zuko nodded, and Sokka felt a little twist of vindication. It wasn’t just him.

“I don’t think they’ve been sending my letters,” Sokka said quietly. “And everyone just acts like that’s normal. It’s not normal, Zuko, it’s creepy.”

This whole city and its weird fake peace, and the insistence that there was no war, even with refugees streaming in—it had a way of making you let your guard down. And… that was fine, for some people. These refugees deserved to feel safe, to have a place to raise their families or a chance to just be children.

But sometime in the last couple weeks, Sokka had started to let his guard down, too, and that was something he couldn’t afford to do.

He was letting himself get comfortable. For spirits sake, he was worrying about a stupid dinner rush, when the world still needed—needed Aang, at least. He wasn’t doing enough here, and what little he’d tried to do hadn’t even worked, because Sokka was stupid and naive enough to think that they would actually send his letters, just because they’d taken his money and agreed to do it—

Summer was coming, fast.

And… maybe it didn’t matter. Maybe Aang and Katara were getting along fine without him. Maybe they didn’t need him at all. But if they did need him, and he just sat around and did nothing while his baby sister was out helping to save the world, he’d never forgive himself.

“I just—I feel like I’m wasting time here. I can’t sit around forever,” Sokka said. “I have to get out of here. You know, find my sister, and...”

“I know,” Zuko said, after a moment. He cleared his throat and turned his attention back to his mop. “You’ll find them, Sokka. This won’t last forever.”

Sokka was exhausted by the time they were finally getting ready to close, clearing the last few tables loitering in the quiet shop. He wiped his forehead with the back of his arm and eyed the last few dishes left in the bottom of the sink, tempted to leave them as a problem for tomorrow morning. His bad mood had mellowed into weariness, the man’s words still heavy in the back of his mind. He didn’t know what he was going to do, yet. He’d… sleep on it. Figure out a new plan, something better than the letters. That was what he was good at, and… well, he didn’t really want to think about the alternative: that there was nothing left to do, and he was stuck here, and—

He’d been so wrapped in his own thoughts, it took him a moment to notice the door creak open. Sokka glanced over his shoulder. Zuko was eyeing the trash cans balefully. Sokka snorted, and he turned to glare petulantly at him, instead.

“It’s gross,” Zuko insisted.

Sokka rolled his eyes.

“You’re such a baby,” he said. Yeah, the shop’s garbage was gross, but it wasn’t any more gross than gutting fish, or scrubbing Appa’s toes, and Sokka managed those things just fine.

He hoisted the container up by its handles, at arms length to keep from having to look at—or smell—it too closely.

“Don’t worry your highness, I’ll take them out this time. You can finish the dishes, instead,” Sokka said. Zuko made a face at the title, and Sokka couldn’t help but snicker.

By closing time, even the handful of patrons that usually loitered in the alleyway where they could smoke in peace had cleared out, either heading home, or wandering off in the direction of the winehouses closer to the monorail stop. That was fine with Sokka, because he was exhausted enough without having to make small talk while he was technically still working.

Sokka wrestled the trash over to the stone container behind the shop, and grimaced as he tipped the contents over the side. He didn’t envy whoever’s job it was to clear the streets every night, although when he thought about it, it was probably taken care of by earthbenders who never did more than push a few stone containers around.

It was pretty full already and smelled, frankly, terrible. They were supposed to clear the streets daily, but supposed to never seemed to matter in the Lower Ring, unless you were greasing palms to move things along. Dirty streets and lazy public servants was something that he was sure the Upper Ring never had to deal with. Ba Sing Se might have declared itself a safe, prosperous oasis in the Earth Kingdom, but Sokka had quickly learned that the three rings may as well each be their own city.

Sokka didn’t hear approaching footsteps, but his stomach swooped at the sudden, solid thump of boots hitting the ground behind him. His mind immediately jumped to the Dai Li, because he and Zuko had seen them lurking on the rooftops before, heard them whispered about in the marketplace, and nothing good could come from one of them sneaking up on Sokka now—

He whirled around, fulling intending to throw the trash container in the man’s face and—

“Shh, be quiet,” Jet hissed. “I need to talk to you.”

“Spirits, Jet,” Sokka said. He nearly dropped the container at their feet in relief. Normally, he would have expected Jet to look smug for catching Sokka off guard, or for startling him. Instead he just frowned at Sokka, glanced both ways down the alleyway, and stepped a little closer, so he could drop his voice.

“I found something interesting today,” Jet said. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a scroll. The paper was thick, high quality, and when Sokka tried to line up the broken wax seal, he didn’t recognize it, but… this definitely didn’t belong to Jet, that much was certain.

“Where did you get this?” Sokka asked.

“Got it out of some Earth Kingdom noble’s office,” Jet said. “Found a couple of them, actually. Seems like everyone who’s anyone has been invited.”

“And you were in their office… why?” Sokka asked.

“Does it matter?” Jet asked. Sokka huffed. “Oh come on, we’re not hurting anyone. They have more money than they could possibly spend, what’s the harm if we—”

“Jet, just…” Sokka interrupted with an impatient gesture, because he wasn’t really in the mood for one of his speeches. “What’s your point?”

Jet tapped the letter pointedly. “Check out the VIP list,” he said.

“Bosco the… bear?” Sokka read.

“No, the—below that,” Jet said.

Sokka scanned down. His breath caught in his throat at the sight of it.

The Avatar.

Sokka clutched the letter so tightly that the corner started to tear, before he forced himself to relax his hands. It didn’t mention anything else, just a date and time, and a location in the Upper Ring.

He couldn’t stop staring at the list, the first lead he’d gotten on finding Aang and Katara since Azula had ruined their chances of finding them. Something dangerously close to hope was welling up in his chest, and he tried not to latch onto it too desperately, because… because he didn’t know if it really was Aang, or if Katara was still with him. He didn’t even know how he would get to the Upper Ring, let alone into a party attended by the Earth King, because he didn’t have the papers for either.

“That’s not all,” Jet said. He dropped his voice lower, dangerously serious, with a hard look in his eye. “I needed to wait until you were alone. We don’t want them to know we’re onto them.”

“What are you even… want who to know we’re onto them?” Sokka asked, exasperated. Even if Jet had changed, Sokka knew better than to go along with his plans. The only thing following Jet would do was get him into trouble, and if they caught the Dai Li’s attention, Sokka would never be able to get to the Upper Ring. “Listen, Jet, thank you for bringing me this, really, but I’m not one of your Freedom Fighters. Whatever little missions you’re planning, I don’t want anything to do with it.”

“It’s not a mission,” Jet said urgently. “Listen to me. Those people you’re traveling with have been lying to you. They aren’t who they say they are.”

Panic spiked under his skin.

“They’re not Earth Kingdom refugees. I saw one of them, with hot tea after—”

“We work in a tea shop,” Sokka said, a little strangled. Jet just squeezed his arms in exasperation, like Sokka was stupid, or oblivious, when really his mind was suddenly a buzzard wasp hive of activity, scrambling for an excuse that Jet would accept.

Oh, spirits, this was bad.

“They’re firebenders, Sokka,” Jet said, with such iron certainty that Sokka nearly flinched at the declaration. The much too loud declaration, right out in the open, where anyone could overhear him. “I don’t know what they’re planning yet, but they trust you. Maybe you could...”

Cold dread sank through Sokka’s stomach like a stone. How could Jet possibly know that? They’d been so careful… but what if someone had recognized them? What if they’d seen Zuko before, and someone really had recognized the scar even after all the times Sokka had told Zuko he was just being paranoid? Who knew how many people could have seen them, thought they looked out of place, and put things together—their boss, their neighbors, maybe just a random customer. All it would take was one person who’d crossed paths with them before, spirits, this was bad—

Jet’s eyebrows drew together, and Sokka’s heart skipped a beat. He’d hesitated a moment too long. A complicated expression flickered across Jet’s face. His panic must have shown on his face, but not in the way that Jet was expecting.

Jet’s expression darkened.

“You knew,” he said.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Sokka said. Jet grabbed the front of Sokka’s shirt, and his shoulders bumped against the rough alley wall. It didn’t hurt. Jet looked more hurt than Sokka was, looking even more betrayed than the last time they’d parted ways.

“I can see it on your face!” Jet hissed. “You already knew. You’ve—have you known this whole time? You helped the Fire Nation infiltrate the city?”

“They’re not infiltrating anything,” Sokka said, caught between guilt for lying and exasperation, because... Jet was a good person, deep down, and if he would just listen maybe he’d understand—

“We’ll see if you still think they’re harmless when they find out that Aang is in the city,” Jet snapped. “I’m sure the Fire Nation would love to take down the Earth Kingdom's greatest stronghold and the Avatar in one swoop.”

“They wouldn’t. They’re not like that,” Sokka said defensively.

It was startling how quickly the thought soured into anxiety, because… spirits, what would Zuko do, if he learned Aang was in the city?

Would he—?

No.

Sokka shoved the thought down, because no, Zuko wouldn’t. He’d already proven that when he’d seen Appa on the mountain, and chose to come back for Sokka instead. That had to mean something.

He was sure Zuko wouldn’t. Sokka’s heart rebelled at even the thought, his belief in Zuko hardening into pure stubbornness. Jet must have been able to see it on his face, because he scowled and tightened his fist around the collar of Sokka’s robe.

“Sokka?”

Both of them jumped. Zuko was hovering in the doorway, a mop clutched in one hand. Sokka had taken too long, and Zuko had come to check on him, to make sure he was okay. Sokka saw the way Jet tensed at the voice. Zuko took one look at them, Jet’s hand still clutching the front of Sokka’s shirt, pushing him back against the wall, and his expression darkened.

“What are you doing?” Zuko demanded. Jet dropped Sokka’s shirt with a final shove and a disgusted noise, turning away like he couldn’t bear to look at him.

“Jet, don’t,” Sokka said. “Wait!”

Jet shoved past him and thrust his sword under Zuko’s chin. Zuko knocked it away with the mop handle, scowling and suddenly defensive.

“You’re a firebender!” Jet shouted, much too loud in the quiet of the alleyway. Zuko faltered, just barely. He covered his surprise so quickly that Sokka wasn’t even sure if Jet had noticed, too quickly masked beneath a dark glare.

Zuko’s dao were still carefully bundled up back in their apartment, because obviously he didn’t bring them with him to the tea shop. That was, apparently, not even going to slow him down. Zuko brought up the mop handle without hesitation, because of course he was going to pick a fight, that idiot—

Jet’s hook swords clashed against the blunt edge of Zuko’s mop, and Sokka swore. The blades hacked a deep notch into the wood of the handle. It bowed under Jet’s weight as he pressed forward. Another couple strikes like that and he was going to cut clean through.

“Z—Lee!” Sokka said. He wasn’t much of a swordsman, but even he knew this was a bad matchup. Jet clearly knew it too, because he barely gave Zuko a moment to recover before he pressed forward aggressively.

At this rate they were going to seriously hurt each other. He didn’t think, just shoved his way between them and moved to catch Jet’s arm on the downswing. Jet grit his teeth and tried to jerk his arm out of Sokka’s grip, and that plus the momentum of the swing was enough to throw his aim off. Sokka grunted as Jet’s elbow connected with his chin. He shoved Jet off, and the force of it caught him off guard enough to make him stumble.

A couple paused at the mouth of the alley, attention drawn by the noise. The woman stumbled a half-step back at the sight of Jet’s swords. This probably looked—well, it probably looked like Jet was trying to mug a couple of tea shop employees, and spirits, that was probably the best outcome, if that was all they assumed...

“Get out of the way, Sokka,” Jet said. He glared at Sokka with the same contempt he’d given him in Gaipan, frustration and loathing and a hint of betrayal, like he couldn’t understand what Sokka was thinking, fighting him like this.

A crowd had started to gather at the end of the alleyway, and Sokka’s stomach dropped when he saw one of them signal to someone down the street. They were drawing too much attention. At this rate both of them were going to get arrested, maybe Sokka with them—

Sokka ignored Jet and forced himself between them again, one hand against Zuko’s heaving chest.

“Enough. Jet, you need to get out of here,” Sokka said.

“I’m not afraid of—”

“Being arrested?” Sokka snapped. “Because that’s exactly what’s about to happen if you don’t leave!”

Sokka could see the moment that the words actually got through the frustration. Jet hesitated, just for a second, to follow Sokka’s gaze down the alleyway.

“He’s the one they should—” Jet started to say, but he cut himself short. A muscle in his jaw ticked, and when he looked back in Sokka’s direction, he looked furious.

He wasn’t going to listen. He was going to keep fighting, because Jet wasn’t the kind of person to give up, even if it meant getting captured by the Dai Li. That would be bad enough. Jet didn’t deserve that, even if he was trying to attack them, but to make matters worse, all it would take would be for even one of those agents to look at Zuko twice, and start to wonder at his eyes, or his scar…

There was no war in Ba Sing Se, but there were a lot of people. Even if they didn’t get news from the outside, someone, somewhere, must have seen the bounty posters, and then they would all be in trouble.

Someone shouted at them from the end of the alleyway. Jet’s eyes darted back one more time, and then he made a disgusted noise under his breath. “Who’s side are you even on,” Jet said.

Jet shoved him, and Sokka could feel the flyer in his robe pocket crinkling beneath the flat of his palm. He pushed past to the other side of the alley, while Sokka pressed his hand a little more firmly against Zuko’s side, to keep him from chasing after him.

“Let’s go inside,” Sokka said urgently, eyeing the crowd that was still gathered at the end of the street, waiting to see if the entertainment would continue. Zuko looked like he had half a mind to chase after Jet anyway, fingers flexing on the mop handle, like that was a fight he could win. He probably could win, the idiot, if he tried firebending, which was exactly what Jet wanted. Sokka wrapped his fingers around Zuko’s hand and eased it back down to his side, just in time for a pair of guards to appear at the mouth of the alleyway.

They paused to say something to a woman leaning against the bricks there, and Sokka held his breath as they came towards them—and then sped straight past, following Jet.

Zuko brushed his thumb lightly against Sokka’s jaw. He was frowning anxiously, and Sokka reached up to touch his lip, confused. The back of his hand came away wet, and he finally understood why Zuko was looking at him like that.

It wasn’t so bad. His lip was bleeding, but only a little. It barely stung. Jet hadn’t meant to elbow him, and he probably wouldn’t have if Sokka hadn’t tried to throw himself between them in a fit of Zuko-like recklessness.

“Don’t worry about it,” Sokka said. “It doesn’t hurt.”

“What did he want?” Zuko asked quietly.

Sokka turned to stare down the mouth of the alley. Jet was long gone, and the guards after him. He might have worried, but he’d seen Jet in action before. He was sure they’d never catch him with that much of a head start.

“He…” Sokka trailed off, breath hitching on the word.

Aang and Katara were in Ba Sing Se.

He was so close. It had been weeks, and now, finally he knew where they were, and he could find them, and go with them, and maybe Zuko—

Sokka looked at him, searching the concerned lines of his face. Zuko was frowning, tense and angry and looking very much like he was still planning on hunting Jet down, after all. Jet’s words were still creeping like embers in the back of Sokka’s mind, catching on the edges of his doubts, smoldering, threatening to burn him up, because...

Even Zuko had admitted that he wanted to go after Aang when he’d seen them on the mountain. He hadn’t, in the end, but that had been before, when he had no chance of catching up to them. But now Aang was here, in Ba Sing Se, within reach and not flying away faster than he could possibly hope to follow. What would Zuko do if Sokka told him about—?

Except, Sokka trusted Zuko. He did. He told himself that, even as his fingers tightened around the flyer in his pocket. The corner curled under his thumb, worn from exchanging hands, and crumpled now from Jet grabbing him.

He trusted Zuko.

But this was… a lot to take in for Aang and Katara, too. Even Sokka recognized that, and he’d been here the whole time, seen how much he’s changed first-hand. Besides, Zuko wasn’t exactly known for his patient and level-headed decision making, and the last thing Sokka needed was for him to do something rash and convince them he was still their enemy.

Because here was the thing: Jet had reacted badly when he’d learned about Zuko, and he thought he was just some firebender. Jet didn’t trust him. He didn’t understand. And why should he? He didn’t even know him.

But that was the problem, wasn’t it? Aang and Katara did know him. If Jet had reacted like that just because he found out that Zuko was a firebender, how were they going to react, knowing everything?

Maybe he could… he could find Aang and Katara, first, and tell them what happened… gently. How he’d gotten here. Who he was with. He could tell Katara about Zuko, and she would be okay with it, because she loved him. And then… and then he’d tell Zuko, and he would be okay with it, because—

Sokka let the flyer go, slowly, and shook his head. He just—he needed a little time to think.

“Jet… wanted to warn me that you two were firebenders,” Sokka said. “He wasn’t happy when he realized I already knew.”

“Are you all right?” Zuko asked. His expression twisted anxiously as he brushed a hand over Sokka’s shoulder, checking for any other injuries. Sokka caught his hand before he reached his side, and the crinkled lump in his pocket.

“Fine,” Sokka said. “Never better.”

Chapter Text

It was too dark to make out the letters on the flyer Jet had left with him, but he’d long since memorized the words. Sokka had been pouring over the page in every private moment since, turning the invitation over in his mind long after Zuko and Iroh had fallen asleep, and long after the words had started to blur together in the dark.

Zuko had dragged their bedrolls closer together, so they were overlapping slightly. He’d tried to be subtle about it, as though it was just an accident, like Sokka wouldn’t notice… just like he wasn’t supposed to notice the way Zuko had stared at him anxiously for the whole walk back from the shop, or the way he’d repositioned his dao to be easier to reach before laying down to sleep. He could feel the slow rise and fall of Zuko’s chest through the blanket, the barest brush of his knuckles against the back of Sokka’s shoulder as Zuko, in his sleep, had reached across the space that Sokka had put between them when he’d rolled over to sneak a hand into his bag. It wasn’t making Sokka feel any less guilty, or any less conflicted.

Maybe he should have just shown Zuko the invitation...

Or… or maybe he could bring it up, just hypothetically...

Sure, that would go over well. Hey Zuko, what would you do, hypothetically, if Aang was in the city, and I knew where he was but hadn’t told you, and I wanted to ditch you and go find him—

Sokka sighed. He quietly slipped the paper back into his bag, burying it as near to the bottom as he could. Then he rolled over again, pulling the blankets up under his chin. He stubbornly closed his eyes, and pretended that getting any sleep at all wasn’t a losing battle from the start.

He had to talk to them first. He needed time to explain that things had changed.

Sokka gave up on trying to sleep before the sun had even fully risen. Zuko and Iroh were both fast asleep—both being firebenders attuned to the rising of the sun, this was the first time in a long time he was up before either of them. Iroh would be up soon, at least, because they needed to go help with opening the shop. Pao didn’t expect Sokka until later, once the lunch rush had made enough work that he couldn’t get away with only paying two employees. Sokka had mentioned a couple days ago that he was planning to use the time to swing through the archives at Ba Sing Se university, to see if any of the maps there could help him narrow down more places to send letters. Obviously that wasn’t happening anymore, but at least he had an excuse to slip out early without either of them wondering where he’d gone.

All of the rings were technically walkable, separated by gated entrances, or traversable by monorail, if he’d had the money for the fare and the papers to get past the checkpoints. After his last batch of letters, all Sokka had was a handful of coins, so the monorail wasn’t really an option for him. Sokka had walked as far as the Middle Ring before, wandering with Zuko on their days off. The gate between the Lower and Middle Ring wasn’t closed during the day—only at night, apparently a deterrent against crime, though Sokka suspected it was more meant as a deterrent, specifically, against ‘crime’ wandering up from the Lower Ring into the rest of the city.

Getting into the Upper Ring was, apparently, another matter entirely.

“I’m the Avatar’s friend, so—” Sokka said. The guard snorted. There had only been one when Sokka first walked up, but two more had wandered over since, like a simple conversation could possibly require more than one person to supervise.

“Right, and I’m the Earth Queen,” he said. His buddies snickered, and Sokka flushed. He knew he didn’t exactly look like he belonged in the Upper Ring—he probably looked like exactly the kind of person they tried so hard to keep out, with his worn robes and his split lip. It was obvious from the way they looked at him that they’d already made their assumptions.

“I’m not lying,” Sokka insisted. “We got separated, but if you just let me talk to him, he’ll tell you himself!”

“You know, I didn’t even know the Avatar was in the city,” another guard said. “Where did you say you learned about him?”

“From—from a friend,” Sokka said.

“You sure have a lot of interesting friends,” he said.

He said the words like a warning, and Sokka couldn’t help but think of the Earth Kingdom soldier that had stolen his wallet. They were all the same jerks, with too much power and not enough reason to care. He wasn’t going to argue his way through. They didn’t care if Sokka was lying or not.

The guard lowered his voice slightly, so that only Sokka could hear him. “Orders are orders, and you’re not getting through without papers. Get out of here, kid, before you say something you regret.”

Sokka clenched his teeth, frustrated, and glanced over at the other two guards, who were watching the exchange with hard eyes. None of them had swords, which meant they were all earthbenders, which meant that there was no way Sokka would get past them if they didn’t let him through.

Maybe if he hadn’t already tried once before, he would have been stupid enough to bribe the man into letting him in. He knew better now. Anyway, he doubted he made enough at the tea shop to sway them, even if they weren’t going to just steal his money and tell him to get lost.

Sokka felt their eyes on him all the way to the corner. He kept his hands clenched in his pockets, trying not to let his frustration show, but—spirits, why couldn’t anything ever be easy? He kicked a rock, and got absolutely no satisfaction watching it skip away down the street. After all this time, one stupid guard was standing between him and maybe, finally, catching up with Aang and Katara.

Not that Sokka blamed the guards for being skeptical. He was just a normal guy, and he didn’t exactly look like the kind of person that would hang out with the Avatar.

Even the long walk back wasn’t enough to burn off some of his frustration. Sokka knew that they wouldn’t let him through if he went back to the same gate, and trying to force his way through would be a surefire way to get himself arrested… but maybe if he got the invitation out of his bag, and brought it to a different gate, he could bluff his way through. They hadn’t believed that he was Aang’s friend without proof, but… an invitation to a fancy Upper Ring party might be proof enough.

Of course, if they didn’t believe him, and wondered where he’d gotten the invitation, he’d have even more problems, but he had to try something. Sokka stomped all the way up the stairs and let himself into the dark apartment.

He didn’t even see Zuko at first, but he must have caught him off guard, because he startled almost as badly as Sokka did. Sokka crushed down the impulse to make excuses for himself, because he hadn’t told Zuko where he was going and…

He wasn’t doing anything wrong so he didn’t know why he felt guilty.

Zuko had a piece of paper in his hands. He turned to look at Sokka, and his heart dropped through his stomach.

“I thought you were working?” Sokka asked weakly, and immediately he knew that it hadn’t been the right thing to say.

“I was. I should be,” Zuko said, with a deepening frown. Zuko hesitated, but it was obvious that he wanted to know where he’d been. Sokka expected him to ask. Instead he held the flyer out to Sokka. “What is this?”

Sokka crossed his arms, feeling defensive.

“Why were you going through my bag?” he asked.

“I was looking for a play to read on my break,” Zuko said. Sokka cringed, feeling stupid, because… he had said that he could. “Where did you even get this?”

Sokka bit his lip. He sighed.

“Jet gave it to me,” he admitted.

“He came back?” Zuko asked. Sokka hesitated a moment too long, and something between hurt and understanding flashed over Zuko’s face. It was gone in a moment, replaced by an unsettlingly blank calm. He read the paper again, thoughtful.

“Oh,” Zuko said. “No, you just didn’t tell me.”

Sokka’s stomach churned with guilt, and anxiety, because—Zuko didn’t even look mad. Zuko was always mad, but right now he didn’t look anything but hurt, maybe, and… almost like he was waiting for something more.

“I was going to,” Sokka said.

Zuko looked at him, and for a moment his emotions were all mixed up. He made a face at himself and glanced down at the paper in his hands again. His voice was level when he spoke.

“So this is it, then,” Zuko said. Sokka hesitated. There was something about the certainty in his voice that made his heart sink, unease prickling in the back of his mind. It just didn’t feel right anymore, the way that Zuko was looking at him, all tense and unhappy. It was too much like before.

“This is… what?” Sokka asked.

Zuko sighed, short and a little annoyed. Sokka felt like he’d missed a step somewhere, off balance. Zuko clearly thought that he should be on the same page, and that alone was enough to redouble his nerves.

“Don’t,” Zuko said. “Don’t act like—” He cut himself off with a harsh breath. The corners of his mouth twisted down, like he was annoyed by the question. Or maybe he was annoyed that Sokka needed it spelled out for him. “This is goodbye.”

“What? No!” Sokka said—shouted, really, loud enough that he was sure the neighbors would be banging on the walls at any moment.

“You’re leaving,” Zuko said plainly.

“But I’m not—I was just going to talk to them,” Sokka insisted. “I just wanted to make sure… I mean, it’s a lot to take in, and they don’t even know that I’m…”

He trailed off helplessly, because Zuko was just watching him stiffly, like he wasn’t understanding Sokka’s meaning, like he was just waiting to get this over with.

“It’s okay, Sokka,” Zuko said. He didn’t look okay, back ramrod straight, fingers gripping the elbows of his shirtsleeves.

He grabbed for Zuko’s hand, like just holding on like this might be enough to keep him there. Zuko didn’t really react to the touch other than to let his other arm flop down at his side, but he didn’t pull away, either.

“Zuko. You know I trust you, don’t you?” Sokka asked.

“I know,” Zuko said, with the barest shrug of his shoulders. He looked confused now, like he didn’t understand what that had to do with anything. Carefully, he tugged back against Sokka’s grip on his hand, until he was forced to let go.

“So you know I’m coming back,” Sokka said. He reached out again and insisted, “I’m coming back, and then you and I can—”

Zuko jerked his arm back before Sokka could touch him.

“Stop it,” Zuko snapped. “Stop doing that.”

“Doing what?” Sokka asked.

Zuko made a frustrated sound and paced back a few steps. He fixed Sokka with a scowl, and it was almost startling how fiercely he glared at him, the way his eyes flashed. Zuko hadn’t looked at him like that in weeks, not really, and the anger just seemed wrong now, like it didn’t fit on his face.

“Pretending this is normal!” Zuko shouted. “Pretending this is ever going to be normal. That this can ever be anything at all! Just— we knew this wasn’t going to last, anyway. I don’t know why you’re so...”

For one lightning strike moment, Sokka could only stare at Zuko. It hit him all at once that, even though he was supposed to be the plan guy, the one who was always looking toward the next step, somehow Zuko had been the only one of them to think this through to the end.

“I don’t know why you’re so upset. This has always been your plan!” Zuko insisted in a furious rush, crushing the flyer in his fists. “Everyone in this stupid city is pretending. They’re lying to themselves. You said so yourself. You’re wasting your time here, acting like there’s no war. Well, here’s your chance, going to a—” Zuko threw the crumpled flyer at him, and Sokka caught it clumsily, “—stupid party in the Upper Ring! This is what you came here for. You’ve found your sister already, so just…”

Sokka was supposed to be the planner, but this time—maybe he’d known that there was only one answer to the question of what came next, or maybe it was that he didn’t have an easy answer, or one that he was willing to accept, and he’d been afraid of asking Zuko and having Zuko admit that he didn’t want this to be long term, anyway.

Which, apparently, he didn’t. Or at least, he hadn’t been planning for it to be. He’d thought Sokka would just leave. Worse, he thought he’d leave without even saying goodbye. As though after all this time together, Sokka could ever get Zuko out of his mind, let alone move on and forget about him, like this didn’t even mean anything.

Sokka caught the half-hysterical laugh that threatened to burst out of him, because Zuko didn’t know why he was upset?

“Have you just been waiting for me to leave this whole time?” Sokka asked. Zuko didn’t say anything, but his answer was clear enough just from the frustrated tilt of his frown. He glanced away. Sokka hated the way that confirmation stabbed through him, even knowing it was coming, as awful as falling through the ice. “I still want—I thought you wanted this.”

That got Zuko’s attention, his head snapping up.

“That’s not fair,” Zuko said. He was a little breathless, still, from the shouting, so the words came out like a hiss, more angry than Sokka thought Zuko meant them to be.

And it wasn’t fair. Sokka knew it, but that didn’t make it hurt any less.

“None of this is fair,” Sokka said. “None of it! It’s not like I planned for any of this.”

He wasn’t even sure which part he was talking about anymore, finding Aang and Katara like this, or him and Zuko. Things had just changed, and he’d never bothered to stop and think about what that meant, for him, for them, for the rest of the summer—not just stupid daydreams, but the hard stuff too. Not just Sokka and Lee, in Ba Sing Se, but Sokka and Zuko, in the future. He hadn’t planned for this. He didn’t even really know where to start, and that scared him.

“You should just go,” Zuko said quietly.

It wasn’t unkind, and that made it worse. Sokka snatched his bag off the counter.

“That’s it?” Sokka asked. He wanted to say something else, hurt rising nearly to the surface, but he had enough sense not to, unsure which of them would regret it more later.

Sokka let himself out of the apartment quietly. He didn’t slam the door, or stomp down the stairs. He just burst onto the street so quickly that a few pedestrians scattered out of his path. He could barely stand to look at them, moving quickly around him, hardly even sparing him a glance as they scurried on to their destinations. He finally slowed down at the corner, tucking his hands self consciously into his pockets, ignoring the way that his stomach twisted. This whole time, Zuko had thought he was just… pretending.

Pretending that this was normal, when it wasn’t. Pretending that there was no war between them, when there was. Pretending that they belonged together, when they didn’t, when everyone else in this city was already lying to themselves, and the truth was that nothing about his peace was going to last—

But that was stupid.

Of course they were pretending. It was just… this city. Of course they were pretending. Lee and Mushi had to be normal. They couldn’t afford not to be, when standing out too much meant drawing the attention of the Dai Li.

That didn’t mean they’d been lying to themselves. That was just a stupid excuse. Nothing about how Zuko made him feel was a lie. He definitely hadn’t been pretending when he kissed him. The way his heart stumbled when Zuko looked at him, the way his face warmed when they touched, all of that had been real.

He swept at his eyes with the back of his sleeve and kept walking. He kept expecting footsteps behind him, and then immediately felt stupid, and selfish, because Zuko was angry at him and… maybe he was right to be.

Maybe it just served Sokka right. Maybe he was no better than the rest of this stupid city, trying to go behind Zuko’s back to talk to Aang and Katara, just because it was easier. Pretending that if he just ignored the problem that it would go away, and he’d never have to face it.

Zuko wasn’t afraid to face it. He’d been considering it from the start, from that night on the roof, when Zuko had asked him if he was sure, and Sokka had told him he was. Zuko had asked him then, if he’d thought it through, and Sokka...

Spirits, he was such a coward.

Sokka’s fingers ached. He glanced down and realized that he’d been subconsciously crushing the flyer in his hand since Zuko had thrown it at him. He unfolded it miserably.

What was he supposed to do? Show up unannounced on Aang’s doorstep, back from the dead and with the Fire Prince that had been hunting them all, and hope that it didn’t go up in flames and bring the whole city down on their heads? He could have at least talked to them first, and then he and Zuko could have…

Well, it didn’t matter anymore. He still needed to find Katara.

Sokka trailed slowly to a stop. He hadn’t really been paying attention to where he was going, but now that he was close to the Middle Ring gate he could hear the faint sound of a commotion rising up over the tightly packed buildings. He quickened his pace to the end of the block.

The street was practically unrecognizable from how it had been only an hour ago. The gates were firmly shut, but there were way too many people crowded around the entrance for a closed checkpoint. Sokka could hear the crowd shouting from down the street, angry voices resolving into more pointed demands—to open the gate, to let them through—as he came closer.

“There is no war in Ba Sing Se,” one of the guards said. It wasn’t anyone Sokka recognized, but he could see more of them lingering by the gates. A silent presence, backs tense like they were worried that the gathering crowd would try to rush the gate at any moment.

“You are perfectly safe, here,” he continued, over shouts of protest and disbelief. “The wall will protect us. Return to your homes—”

“What’s going on?” Sokka asked. He grabbed the arm of the nearest man, who was clutching a leather suitcase to his chest like he was fleeing for his life, not just waiting in a queue for a gate that wasn’t going to open. “Why is everyone trying to get into the Middle Ring?”

“The Fire Nation is attacking the Outer Wall,” he said. Sokka blinked at him, and nearly blurted that’s stupid. If there had been a Fire Nation army in the Earth Kingdom, Sokka definitely would have noticed it while they were travelling. There was no way they could move that many people without being spotted, and any group small enough to hide would have to be—

Oh, no.

“How do you know?” Sokka asked. The man jerked his arm out of Sokka’s grip, annoyed.

“Everyone knows,” he said, which meant he’d heard it from a person who’d heard about it from a person who— “They brought some machine to attack the wall. And if they get inside, they’re coming here first.”

This couldn’t be a coincidence, could it? The siege of Ba Sing Se had been a failure, and the Fire Nation had retreated. But now almost as soon as Zuko and Iroh showed up in the city, the Fire Nation started attacking the wall again. This had to be Azula.

Sokka doubted she knew they were here—Iroh’s pai sho buddies didn’t seem like the types to spill their location to the Fire Nation—but she must have decided to set her sights on the city after she’d followed them into the Earth Kingdom.

The real question was what he should do about it. After all—could she even get through the wall, when Iroh had tried and failed for six hundred days? And… so what if she did try? Maybe Zuko had been right from the start. She wasn’t his responsibility. He needed to find Aang and Katara, not Azula, so—

Someone tapped him on the shoulder. For one pathetic second he thought it might be Zuko, but when he looked back—it was a familiar face, but it took Sokka a moment to place him, without the wine and the cards and the group of other old men to give him context.

“Clear out of here, kid, before there’s trouble,” he said. They were clearly well on the way to that, with the shouting of the gathered crowd rising, the single soldier shouting assurances back as though he was reading from the same script as the woman who’d handled Sokka’s letters.

The people around them weren’t buying it.

“They’re not going to let anyone through,” he insisted, clearly thinking Sokka’s hesitance was because he was trying to get into the Middle Ring too. He was, technically, but not because he was afraid of the Fire Nation. In fact, he needed to get through now more than ever, because Aang and Katara were all the way in the Upper Ring, rubbing elbows with the Earth Kingdom’s nobility.

They were safe there, but that was the problem. If the guards were insisting that there was no war, that everything was fine, even to the people in the Lower Ring who’d fled to this city as refugees, who could go and see the drill with their own eyes and know it wasn’t true, would they even bother telling Aang that something was wrong?

“You don’t seem worried,” Sokka said. He wasn’t sure why he said it, but in the middle of a crowd growing more frantic by the minute, walking a knife’s edge between being dispersed by the Dai Li or boiling over into a full blown riot, the man’s calm stuck out like a beacon.

“I’ve lived here a long time,” he said. “Since before the siege. If the Fire Nation couldn’t break through with an army, I don’t see how they think they can with a single machine.”

Maybe he couldn’t imagine it, but he didn’t know Azula like Sokka did. Aang probably wouldn’t know what he was getting into, either, and that was if the Dai Li even bothered to tell him about the attack at all. He cast one last glance back at the gate.

“Thanks,” Sokka said. “You should go home, too. Just in case.”

Sokka hesitated at the corner, with the baying of the crowd behind him. Maybe the old man was right. Even Iroh and his army hadn’t been able to break through Ba Sing Se’s walls, and no matter how scary and competent she was, Azula was still just one girl. Maybe Ba Sing Se’s soldiers would take care of it themselves.

Sokka couldn’t take that chance.

He turned left, away from the streets that would take him back to Pao’s, onto streets that grew more and more deserted, as he made his way toward the Outer Wall.

The streets were rapidly emptying of people. It was obvious that the citizens of the Lower Ring weren’t fooled by the whole there is no war in Ba Sing Se thing, and if the Fire Nation was coming, they weren’t going to be on the streets when they got here. There was no way that Sokka could get through to even the Middle Ring right now, with so many guards posted at the gates.

(He would think they might want to put a few of those guards on the wall where the Fire Nation was currently attacking, but keeping the rings separated was obviously as important to the people running this city as keeping the Fire Nation out.)

Fewer guards would make sneaking out of the city easier, at least, since no one would expect someone wanting to head toward the Outer Wall during an attack. He hadn’t actually decided what he would do when he got there, but he figured—he’d made it this far, and he at least needed to see what he was dealing with before he could make a plan. If nothing else, he could confirm that it was Azula, and warn the guards not to underestimate her just because she was a fourteen year old girl—

A hand closed on Sokka’s arm, and he flinched. Spirits, he hadn’t even gotten past the Inner Wall yet, let alone the outer one, and he was already getting stopped by—

Sokka blinked.

“Zuko?” he asked, embarrassingly hopeful. Seeing the look on Zuko’s face made his stomach flip, the same guilt from before rising in his throat when he thought back to their stupid argument. “How…?”

Zuko huffed.

“You’re not that hard to track down,” he said. Was… that a joke? Hope budded up in his chest, despite himself.

“Well… why are you here, then?” Sokka asked hesitantly.

He hated how small his voice sounded, because this was Zuko, and he’d never been shy around him before, not even in the beginning. Zuko’s expression wobbled. He immediately tried to hide it, and Sokka felt like the absolute worst person in the world.

“I want to help you,” Zuko said.

Sokka blinked at him, and Zuko scowled.

“They were talking about a drill, in the tea shop. And I already know how reckless you are,” he said, with absolutely no irony, “so I figured you were going to try to stop it.”

“You’re gonna get fired,” Sokka said faintly, even though… that was such a stupid thing to say, obviously they had bigger problems, but Sokka didn’t know what to think right now.

“I—who cares about that?” Zuko said.

“What about your uncle?” Sokka asked

“I didn’t... I was in a hurry,” he said.

“You ran off on him again?” Sokka asked.

“Wh—so did you!” Zuko said. “Just… I thought you probably didn’t learn your lesson, when you went to help Sensu. I figured that you’d try to do something stupid, which you clearly are. And you… you asked me for my help, once, finding your sister, and you can’t do that if you go off and get yourself killed. So here I am. I’m coming with you,” he added, frown deepening. “Don’t look so surprised.”

Sokka was surprised, though. Not that Zuko was worried about him, or that he knew him well enough to know where to look for him as soon as he’d heard about the drill, but just…

He was just surprised that Zuko had still come. He’d kind of thought he’d used up his second chances. Sokka took a deep breath.

“Zuko, I’m...” Sokka said, and then his words failed him. Just I’m sorry felt too cheap, but Sokka didn’t even know where to start with the rest, only—

Sokka threw his arms around him. Zuko stiffened, surprised for just a second, and then his arms came up around Sokka’s shoulders, squeezing him back.

“I… understand why you didn’t say anything,” Zuko said. Somehow that just made Sokka feel worse, because maybe it was understandable, for the old Zuko, but it wasn’t fair to this Zuko, no matter how worried Sokka was about how Aang and Katara would react.

And maybe, just a little bit, Sokka had been afraid that if they tried to merge what he’d had with Katara and Aang with what he had now with Zuko, it would break. Maybe he was scared, and maybe things were easier before, but it was still selfish of him to think that he could decide for him.

“I should have told you,” Sokka said firmly. “And… we should have talked about this before. I just assumed that you’d want—I was just worried things would change, but… that’s not an excuse. Things have to change, if we want to stop the war, and I should have trusted you. We can go find them together, if you want. But right now, I’m going to stop that drill and… you’re right. I could use the help.”

Zuko nodded, and only then did they reluctantly let go.

It was easier to leave the Lower Ring in the other direction. They rode the empty monorail as far as it would take them, and walked the rest of the way, without so much as a single city guard stopping them to check their papers. The gates to the Upper Ring had been locked tight, but no one seemed to care if the riff raff left the city, so long as they couldn’t come back.

Maybe it was the quiet, or maybe he was just on edge, but…

Sokka glanced over his shoulder. There was no one there. Of course there was no one there, because he was definitely imagining the prickling feeling of being watched. Who would even be stupid enough to come out here, when the Fire Nation was attacking?

Well, other than them. Sokka glanced over at Zuko, but when he turned Zuko was already looking at him. His expression soured, seeing the look on Sokka’s face, and that made his nerves prickle all over again. They crossed into the shadow of the Outer Wall. It loomed impossibly high, but even here Sokka could hear the mechanical thrum of the drill. It set his teeth on edge, the sound seeming to resonate through the stone, so much more powerful than one lonely tank on the mountainside.

“We should hurry up and find a way though,” Zuko said.

That was where Sokka was a little stuck, too. When they’d come inside the city, they’d needed an earthbender to let them through, which, obviously, neither of them were. Sokka could see where they’d come inside on the far end of the customs area, smooth stone marked out with a gate frame design inlaid into the wall.

Considering that the Fire Nation had brought a whole, gigantic drill to get through, there was no way he and Zuko would get out without bending. The Outer Wall was way too tall to climb without risking someone spotting them. The last thing they needed was to attract the interest of the guards and be taken in for questioning now, which meant that going over the top of the wall wasn’t going to work. They had to go through.

Sokka took Zuko’s hand wordlessly and tugged him toward the back of the monorail track, to the stone pads marking the very end of the line. This part of the wall was designed for travelers, would-be citizens of Ba Sing Se and transit employees. It was made to look nice, and non-threatening, so it was easy enough to slip beyond the simple gates leading away from the platform.

They didn’t have to walk far before the careful facade of serenity fell away. They could see where the city’s soldiers were making their own way up the wall. Sokka watched the stone platforms gliding along the wall’s surface, so many in places that the stone seemed to ripple beneath the sliding shadows. They moved with the same militaristic efficiency Sokka was used to from the Earth Kingdom—it was jarring to see it here, out in plain sight, just beyond the reach of a city with no war. Sokka pointed to the spot. Zuko followed his finger as he traced down toward the base of the wall.

“With that many people, someone’s bound to pass through to the other side. I mean, they’re earthbenders. There’s only so much they can do from all the way up there,” Sokka said, with a sweeping gesture at the stretch of blue sky peeking beyond the top of the wall. “We’ll wait for our chance, and when one of them makes an opening, we’ll sneak through.”

“Sokka,” Zuko said. He tugged back gently on his hand to slow him down. Maybe it was stupid how much easier it made this, that Zuko still hadn’t let go. “What about your sister? Once we cross through the wall…”

Getting back through the Inner Wall, back to Iroh and their apartment in the Lower Ring… that would have been difficult.

But getting back through the Outer Wall again, even if they did manage to stop the drill, even if there was a city for them to come back to…

“I know,” Sokka said. He cast one last look over his shoulder, back toward the Inner Wall and the city beyond, like he might have been able to see straight through to the Upper Ring. Zuko didn’t have anything else to say to that. He just nodded, thumb brushing over the back of his hand, and let Sokka lead the way.

Ba Sing Se’s best and brightest were hurling rocks at the outside of the drill like their lives depended on it. The rocks crumbled over the reinforced armor like they were made from tissue paper, and considering that this thing was designed to drill straight through the city’s stone walls, Sokka doubted they’d make a dent in it even if they pulled the entire wall down around it. They sat crouched in the abandoned trough of one of those earthbender’s tunnels, watching the drill’s approach. The bender they’d secretly followed had already sealed the rest of the tunnel behind them, so there really was no turning back now.

The best chance of stopping it was getting inside. It was a machine, and that meant that all Sokka had to do was find out how it worked, and what parts were essential for holding it together, and sabotage those without Azula realizing that he and Zuko were inside...

...easy, right?

Sokka suppressed a snort, and waved off Zuko’s questioning look.

“I think our best chance would be to sabotage the drill’s power,” Sokka said. “No power, no fancy drill, right? Then it’s just an oversized piece of armor.”

“...How do we do that?” Zuko asked.

“Well, most of your Fire Nation stuff is steam powered, right?” Sokka asked. “I’ve seen some of the prototypes, from a guy the Fire Nation was forcing to build for them. Even with a machine this size, the basics should be mostly the same. So the engine needs—” Sokka cut himself off, because Zuko was already making a face at him, just from the threat of Sokka going into detail. He huffed. “It doesn’t matter. Long story short, we find the boiler room and see if we can break some stuff.”

Simple enough, and Zuko seemed satisfied with that. He glanced back at the drill.

“You realize there will be firebenders in the boiler room, right?” Zuko asked.

“Yeah, well, good thing I have this,” Sokka said, patting his boomerang. He nudged Zuko with an elbow, “and you.”

The smile Zuko gave him was just the tiniest tilt of his mouth, but Sokka knew him too well by now to be fooled. That look was so stupidly fond that a thrill shot right through him, warm and a little embarrassing. Sokka couldn’t help but smile back, leaning in just slightly against Zuko’s side.

Yeah. They had this.

They waited for a lull in the volley of rocks from the wall before leaving their hiding spot. Sokka sprinted after Zuko. The drill’s treads tore against the ground, kicking up plumes of dust to mingle with the debris raining down from the boulders shattering against the drill’s hull. He had to hope that the hazy cloud was enough to keep either side from spotting them. He ran as hard as he could, because just because they couldn’t see them to attack them didn’t mean a stray boulder couldn’t crash down at any moment and… well, they wouldn’t have to worry about the drill anymore, that would be certain.

Sokka couldn’t even pause to feel relieved when they finally ducked under the metal hull of the advancing drill, safe at least from being crushed by an unfortunate rock, because almost immediately he had to side-step one of the drill’s enormous treads. It was so loud under the drill that Sokka couldn’t even hear the sound of the boulders slamming into metal anymore.

Zuko’s stride didn’t even falter as he jumped to catch the bottom of one of the maintenance catwalks that ran along the underbelly of the drill. He didn’t even look tired from the sprint, the jerk, although maybe he was just better at hiding it. He reached down to catch Sokka’s hand and pulled him up behind him. Zuko looked tense and nervous already. Sokka didn't let go, even when his knees hit the catwalk. He squeezed Zuko’s hand instead, trying to be reassuring.

“We need to find a way inside,” Sokka said, only a little out of breath. He didn’t say, we can do this, but Zuko squeezed his hand back, looking a little less uneasy, and Sokka thought he’d understood, anyway.

“What about that?” Zuko asked, pointing to the stream of muddy water flowing out the back of the drill. It had to lead somewhere, but…

“I think that could be a way out,” Sokka said, “but unless they stop drilling, there’s no way we’ll be able to crawl against the current. I was thinking something more like…” He rapped his knuckles against one of the pipes, and instead of ringing hollow, like an empty pipe might, it gave a muffled thunk. The pipe was cool to the touch, and his knuckles came back a little wet with condensation. “Something more like this,” he said.

Zuko looked skeptical.

“It’s a coolant pipe,” he said. Sokka was, maybe, ninety percent sure. It took a lot of energy to make steam, and all that heat had to go somewhere. A machine this large would be like a furnace inside without a good coolant system, and since they’d need a way to pipe the excess heat from the boilers to the surface, the pipes should, in theory, spider all the way through into the belly of the drill.

He wasn’t going to mention that the other ten percent was either fuel or more slurry, and would make an absolute mess if Sokka was wrong. They’d get inside either way, though. He pointed to the lever beside it, locked into an open position. “That’s for leaks and repair. If we cut off the water, we should be able to crawl through the empty pipe, but…”

“But?” Zuko asked.

“Well, it’s a coolant pipe. When we turn it off, it’s gonna get really hot, like, really quickly, so—”

“So I’ll go, and you stay out here,” Zuko said.

“No,” Sokka said pointedly, because Zuko wasn’t leaving him behind. He could handle a little heat. “It’s gonna get really hot, so once we close the valve, we have to be quick.”

Sokka waited a few seconds after Zuko turned the lever all the way, until the pipe sounded hollow when he tapped it, and then stuck his boomerang into the gap between the door and hull to break the seal. It hissed faintly, and Sokka braced himself, praying that he was right, and wasn’t about to do something incredibly stupid.

But no, he was just about to do something a normal amount of stupid. The door popped open to reveal an empty pipe and a humid waft of hot air.

Sokka crawled in first, and picked a direction without waiting to see if Zuko would follow him. It was cramped, and he’d barely made it to the junction before the air started to turn muggy, way worse than the dry heat near the Si Wong desert. It was a little hard to breathe, and Sokka had to pause to pull his sleeves down over his palms as the metal underneath him started to heat.

“Sokka, maybe you should...” Zuko whispered, but Sokka ignored him, pulling himself up onto the next level. There was another valve there, and he didn’t really have the luxury of worrying whether this was another maintenance hatch, or whether this was going to dump a thousand pounds of water on their heads.

Sokka grabbed the handle and then immediately snatched his hands back, hissing. Spirits, it was hot. He was sweating so badly that it stung his eyes, getting… a little dizzy, actually. Sokka tried to grab it again, and Zuko reached around him before he could, teeth clenched against the heat. He yanked the lever to the left.

Sweet, cool air rushed in, and Sokka gasped in relief. He was right. He hadn’t led them into a dead end. Sokka leaned clumsily over the edge. The overwarm metal dug into his side. It was healed, but still sensitive, and the touch stung. He hissed through his teeth.

And then Sokka looked down. He met the eyes of the engineer, peering up at the suspected broken coolant pipe. He froze.

“What the…?” the engineer said, and that startled him into motion again. Sokka heaved himself over the side with absolutely no grace. The man bit off a startled curse as Sokka landed on him, knocking him flat. There were two more loitering in the doorway, and the sound of them colliding with the metal deck was enough to stun them both.

Just for a moment, though.

The man in front raised his fist, just as a jet of flame burst out of the open pipe. Fire must have been the very last thing they expected from an enemy raid, and he didn’t even have time to dodge, or bring his hands up to defend himself. The soldier slammed into his friend behind him, and both of them slammed into the metal door behind them, so hard that the sound of their armor striking the plated door rang in the air.

Zuko’s boots hit the deck beside him. He wrapped his hands around Sokka’s elbows, trying to guide him to stand.

“Are you all right?” he asked, holding on a little too tight. Sokka took the help, leaning against Zuko’s side until he’d found his footing. He nodded. The rush of cool air had helped to clear his head. A quick flex of his fingers told him that he hadn’t actually been burned.

Sokka nudged the man he’d fallen onto with his boot, testing that he was down for the count. He wasn’t wearing the same armor as the other two soldiers. He looked more like an engineer, with a space on his belt to carry his tools. He’d probably been sent by someone to investigate when they’d noticed that the flow through the coolant pipe had been blocked.

“I’m good,” Sokka said. He glanced up. “I think they were alone, but someone had to order these guys here to fix that pipe. They’re probably going to get suspicious when they don’t report in, so we need to hurry.”

“We don’t know where we’re going,” Zuko protested.

That was true, but these guys had been sent down here for repairs. Maybe Fire Nation machinery was standardized enough that they had the layout of the drill memorized, but more likely…

Sokka took a moment to poke through the man’s pockets, and then snatched a rolled piece of paper off the ground, from where it was half-pinned under the unconscious engineer. It was a little scorched on the edge, but Sokka pinched the ember out with his thumb and unrolled it triumphantly to turn toward Zuko.

“They’re the drill’s schematics,” Sokka explained when Zuko made a face, obviously not understanding what Sokka meant to do with it. “Come on.”

“Can you read those?” Zuko asked.

“Of course I can,” Sokka said confidently. He was pretty sure, anyway. How hard could it be?

It took him a little while to orient himself, and he had to turn them around more than once, but after a few minutes of sneaking through empty hallways, Sokka was pretty sure he’d figured out which way they needed to go, if they wanted to stop the drill. Based on these schematics, they would have three options.

They could sabotage the drill, making it structurally unsound, but he wasn’t sure how they would do that, with only Zuko’s firebending and Sokka’s boomerang. They could go to the conning tower and find where the controls were to stop it directly… but that was where Azula was, so that was a terrible idea. So that left the engine room, because a drill this size needed fuel, and if they could manage to cut that off, it would lose power.

It was probably going to be a tough fight, but Sokka had his boomerang, and he had Zuko, and fighting their way past the firebenders in the engine room was still probably a better idea than challenging Azula.

“Definitely the third one,” Zuko emphatically agreed.

Sokka traced the path with his finger, memorizing the turns, and then folded the schematic away into his pocket. He led the way down the empty hallways. Even if a machine this size needed a large crew to man it, most of them would be at their stations now that they were approaching the Outer Wall. The halls were empty, quiet aside from the mechanical thrum of the machinery, and the occasional hammering in the pipes behind the maintenance panels.

Zuko followed close behind him. Every so often his hand would wander up to brush against Sokka’s in the low light, or to rest on his elbow or back when Sokka paused at a hallway junction to orient himself. His skin felt sticky with the humidity the deeper they went—it was kind of impossible for the air not to be at least a little uncomfortable, really, considering how gigantic the drill was, and the amount of water it took to keep it running smoothly. Sokka wasn’t complaining though, because it was a major upgrade from the unbearable heat inside the pipe.

He felt much better after a few minutes of walking around, even if Zuko still seemed stubbornly concerned. He’d seemed a lot less bothered by the heat. Sokka wasn’t sure if that was a firebender thing, or if he was just used to it from growing up in the Fire Nation. He wondered if they had any nonbender engineers, or if they were all firebenders like the ones they’d run into earlier. The heat had to get to them, working in the bowels of the drill in all that heavy armor, unless they—

A high pitched whistle shrieked down the hallway.

—took frequent breaks.

“Shift change,” Zuko whispered, snatching Sokka’s arm and dragging him back toward the corner. Zuko glanced over his shoulder at the sound of boots clanging against the metal deck. He wasn’t looking where he was going, too busy watching for the workers. Sokka followed his line of sight, and then quickly glanced back.

He nearly tripped Zuko as he stumbled to a halt. Zuko made a startled sound. Sokka clapped a hand over his mouth and shushed him, praying that the sound didn’t carry.

There was a girl at the end of the hallway. She’d introduced herself to him the last time they’d fought, in between paralyzing him with a single hit, and flirting like they were at a dance. It was… Ty Lee, if he remembered right, and thankfully she wasn’t looking in their direction, half-turned back toward the doorway that she’d just come through. Sokka grabbed Zuko’s sleeve, and Zuko turned confusedly to follow his gaze.

The girl with the knives stepped through the door a moment later. Sokka felt Zuko stiffen as they locked eyes, and saw the change in her posture at the exact moment that she noticed them, too. Ty Lee turned to see what had caught her attention. They both looked as shocked to see them as Sokka was, which was stupid, because of course Azula would bring her scary friends with her—

Sokka cursed, already yanking on Zuko’s sleeve.

“Run,” Sokka said, shoving Zuko backwards.

“Hey, wait up!” Ty Lee chirped behind them, her voice echoing down the long corridor. They skidded around the corner and ran back in the direction they’d come, past doors they’d already checked, boots thundering on the metal deck. If they’d been getting close to the engine room before that was ruined now, but it wasn’t like they had a choice other than to backtrack and pray they could find another route. He didn’t want to stop for a fight unless they absolutely had to.

They hit a junction, and Sokka pulled up short.

“Oh,” he said, stupidly. The end of the hallway stared back at him accusingly. He must have taken a wrong turn. He’d run them into a dead end. There wasn’t anything here except for another maintenance hatch. He could hear the water rushing behind the door, leading to a quick dunk into the slurry of stone and water that the drill was pulling out of the wall.

Sokka knelt to unscrew the valve, and pushed the door aside, grimacing. He peered down into the darkness, and then whirled back toward Zuko.

“Should we try to fight? They’re pretty tough, but with the two of us, maybe…” Sokka said. He was rambling, just on the side of panicked, and he knew it. “Or… they probably won’t follow us down here, and we could try again. Get in from the other side, maybe, or—”

Zuko put a hand on his shoulder, and Sokka cut himself short.

“Sokka,” Zuko said quietly.

“What?” Sokka asked.

“This isn’t going to work,” he said.

Sokka almost protested. They just got here. They still had to stop the drill. They had to try something. It was either stay and fight and hope that Azula’s scary friends didn’t stop them here, or retreat and try again...

...but when he caught the look on Zuko’s face, the protest died in his throat.

Zuko’s mouth was set into a grim line, but he looked strangely relaxed, shoulders back and arms at his side with none of the anxious tension that Sokka was feeling. He looked determined, and in the darkness it was almost hard to read him. It was strange—after weeks and weeks of traveling together, Sokka felt like he was getting better at reading Zuko’s emotions than he was at reading his own.

The look on his face now was wrong, so much more like the carefully calm mask he’d shown Sokka after that first night on the raft. He’d been so awkward, trying to comfort him. He’d thought he looked regal, then, but looking at him now, Sokka wasn’t sure that was quite right. He didn’t look regal. He looked closed off, and the thought sank through his stomach like a stone.

There was Zuko, Prince of the Fire Nation, with all the expectations and the lies that he’d told himself while trying to fight for his fathers approval, and there was Zuko, Sokka’s friend, the boy he cared about so damn much.

He was both of these things, and for a long time Sokka had thought he couldn’t be, that he would have to choose. Zuko had been holding back parts of himself while they were in Ba Sing Se, for Sokka’s sake and for his Uncle’s. This pressure had been rising for a while now, maybe since the day he’d pulled him out of the ocean, and these weeks in the Earth Kingdom had been building steadily, like piling blasting jelly at the base of the dam.

“Zuko,” Sokka said warningly.

“We tried,” he said, and Sokka could practically see the fire flickering in his eyes, like Sokka was the match. “That’s enough.”

“What are you talking about?” Sokka asked. “We have to—”

Zuko curled a hand behind his neck, his thumb brushing just below Sokka’s jaw, and the gesture was so tender, so out of place, that for a second the words stuck in Sokka’s throat.

“We’re never going to make it,” Zuko said.

“Well, we can’t just give up!” Sokka said.

“You said it was possible to stop the drill from the conning tower,” he said.

The conning tower, which peeked out over the very top of the drill—even if they wanted to get inside, they’d have to climb or… or override the controls, maybe, but that would require that they get past all the officers in the control room, and they’d already agreed that they couldn’t get past Azula. Sokka didn’t understand why Zuko was saying this, now, when they’d already agreed—

“That’s stupid,” Sokka said. “We can’t even get past Azula’s friends. How are we going to get inside?”

“We’re not,” Zuko said, fingers brushing gently down Sokka’s jaw, trailing to his shoulder.

And then he planted a hand against Sokka’s chest and pushed.

“Wait!” he shouted. Sokka grabbed for him, but Zuko let his hand slip through his like water. He hit the disgusting, muddy slurry with a splash, only barely remembering to shut his mouth, eyes already squeezed shut in frustration.

He grabbed for the slick walls, trying to pull himself back up. His fingers scraped uselessly against the edges. The current was too strong to climb against. Zuko didn’t follow. The little light from from open hatch winked out a second later with a hollow clang, and Sokka wanted to scream at that stupid, self-sacrificing—

He hit the ground covered in mud, with absolutely no grace, hard enough to punch the air out of his lungs. Sokka coughed, forcing his arms under himself. He pushed himself up to wipe the mud from his eyes. If Zuko thought that Sokka was going to just run away after everything he was out of his mind.

Someone’s breath hitched.

Sokka blinked away the disgusting water, the suddenly too-bright sunlight, and then blinked again, hardly understanding what he was seeing.

“Sokka?” Katara asked, her voice so small that it drove a dagger into his heart.

Sokka stared.

Katara.

It was Katara, and Aang, standing half-hidden in the shadow of one of the drill’s enormous treads. It wasn’t moving very quickly—they were too close to the wall for speed, and Sokka was all too aware of what that meant for them. They’d already started drilling, and soon the whole area in the shadow of the wall would be flooded by the high-pitched squeal of metal on stone, the acrid stench of smoke and friction.

The slurry was still pouring steadily, the wheel treads coated in a chalky dust from the splatter. Little flecks of it were flying in every direction, and they were close enough that their robes were steadily darkening with the splatter. They didn’t even seem to notice.

They both looked like they’d seen a ghost.

Which… wasn’t too far from the truth. Sokka had known that they would think he’d drowned, but knowing that, and actually seeing it on Katara and Aang’s faces were entirely different things. His eyes stung, and only part of that was from the gritty mud streaked on his face. He felt like someone had torn his heart out, ground it up, and tossed it into this stupid slurry with the rest of him.

“Oh,” Sokka said, stupidly. He had been imagining this moment for weeks, but now that he was here his words failed him. He’d thought he’d be knocking on some fancy door in the Upper Ring, not falling out of a slurry chute at Katara’s feet. He’d been running it over in his mind, dwelling on it all night, as though finding the right words might soothe over all the weeks of heartache he’d put her through.

He’d planned out a whole speech. How stupid. He could barely force the words past the lump in his throat.

“Hey, Katara,” he said.

Katara jolted at the sound of his voice, like she was snapping out of a trance.

She threw herself at him, hard enough that they both slapped back into the mud. Her arms were so tight around his neck that she was choking him, a little, and she was shaking… no, Sokka was shaking. He swiped at his eyes with the heel of his hand and squeezed her with all his strength.

“Sokka,” she choked out. “I thought you...”

The way her voice cracked nearly choked Sokka, too, emotion thick in his throat. She buried her face in his shoulder, and he was getting mud in her hair from the way it rasped against his cheek. He could barely breathe, reeling from the relief that Katara was here, and from the guilt at making her cry. Underneath all of that, his heart was still hammering, anxiety churning his stomach, because...

Sokka glanced back at the drill. The pipe was still spewing nothing but muddy water onto the ground beside them. Of course it was. No one was going to follow him. Even if Azula’s friends had seen him, he doubted they’d think it was worth it, coming after him. Zuko was the one with the firebending. He was the one who could stop the drill. Zuko had pushed him away, because he didn’t need Sokka to—

No. Zuko had pushed him away, because he’d thought he was protecting him.

He squeezed Katara a little harder. Zuko was just trying to protect him, but Sokka had people he wanted to protect, too, and he wasn’t going to let anything happen to them.

Chapter Text

Aang and Katara weren’t alone. There was a girl with them that Sokka didn’t recognize. She planted her bare feet firmly in the mud and put her hands on her hips, her entire stance giving the impression of a much larger person than her tiny stature should have allowed. She cocked her head defiantly.

“Sokka?” the girl said, sounding completely out of the loop, and more than a little annoyed with herself for it. “Like, the dead guy?”

That set Katara off harder, the quivering of her shoulders shaking into real sobs. He was the worst big brother ever, and he was going to die from shame. She was squeezing him tight enough that it was kind of hard to breathe, but he did his best to shush her placatingly, anyway.

“Sokka, you’re...” Aang said. He stopped, like he couldn’t even bring himself to say the words. A little more hysterically, he said, “You’re...” and then stopped again.

He was standing so still that he’d have blended right into the hall of Avatars. Sokka could barely begin to parse the look on his face, if not for the fact that he knew Aang, and how he seemed to carry every bad thing that ever happened like it was his personal responsibility.

“Not dead,” Sokka finished for him. “Aang, I’m fine. I’ve been looking for you.”

Sokka offered his other arm tentatively. Aang’s expression wobbled, and then he was tackling him too, hard enough that the force of it knocked all three of them backwards. Sokka let out another little groan, as they landed back in the mud again. He rubbed Katara’s back and brushed the muddy hair away from her cheeks.

“Guys, please,” Sokka said, after it became clear that neither of them were going to let him up any time soon. The chill of the slurry was seeping into the back of his robe. He was pretty sure it was hopelessly in his hair—it was in his mouth, he might as well just give up—but that didn’t make splashing around on the ground any more comfortable. “After all that I’m not drowning for real in, like, an inch of muddy water.”

As if on cue, the treads kicked up another splatter of slurry as they rolled past. Sokka sputtered indignantly. Reluctantly, they leaned away enough to let him sit up.

“How did you…?” Aang started to ask, and then his face crumpled. He looked absolutely miserable as he whispered, “We left you behind.”

“Hey, it’s okay. You didn’t know,” Sokka said.

“I’m sorry,” Aang said wretchedly, like he hadn’t even heard him. “I’m so sorry, Sokka, I—”

“Aang, it wasn’t your fault, okay?” Sokka said. “You couldn’t have known what would happen. And—Yue had just… you didn’t have a choice.”

His voice wobbled slightly when he said her name. It had been weeks, but the grief still felt as fresh as when Zuko and Iroh had told him.

“You’ve heard,” Katara said, and the watery tone of her voice made Sokka’s heart squeeze. “You… how have you heard?”

Well, it was probably better to just rip the bandage off.

“Zuko,” Sokka said. “He saved me. Him, and his uncle.”

They both stared at him like he’d grown a second head.

“Zuko,” Katara said flatly, “like... Prince Zuko?”

Sokka nodded.

“Of the Fire Nation?” Katara asked, more insistently, like Sokka might have mistaken him for someone else.

“I knew it,” Aang whispered, almost to himself, but Katara was still talking, voice rising.

“Why would Zuko…” Katara asked, “How did he even find you?”

“Uh,” Sokka said. “Luck, mostly.”

It hadn’t felt particularly lucky at the time, or for several weeks after, but he couldn’t exactly explain that. It was… complicated, and he doubted that Katara would be very happy to hear that at first he’d saved him as a hostage, and then saved him again almost on impulse, when they’d been running from Azula, but then they’d been traveling as friends, and then—

Sokka fought back the urge to flush. Okay. That part was going to be very hard to explain, considering that the last time Aang and Katara had seen Zuko, it had been the angry, Avatar-obsessed, fire-punching Zuko from the North Pole.

“He saved me,” Sokka repeated. More sure of himself, he took Katara’s hand and squeezed. “I would have drowned without him. We’ve been traveling together for weeks, and… he’s good now, Katara. Not just deep down, but on the outside, where it matters.”

She made a face at him and tried to pull back, confused. She clearly didn’t believe him. He could tell that she was skeptical, just from her expression. Sokka turned to look at Aang. He wasn’t sure why he was even surprised to find that there wasn’t a shadow of doubt on his face. Aang just looked hopeful, eyes still shiny and huge, and like he was half an impulsive moment away from dragging Sokka into another hug.

“Sokka,” Katara said carefully, “I don’t know what he said to convince you, but… are you sure that he’s—?”

She cast a suspicious glance back at the slurry chute he’d just fallen out of, like Zuko might pop out at any moment. Sokka wished he would, his own worry leaden in his stomach. Katara bit her lip.

“Sokka,” she tried again more slowly, fingers twisting in the fabric of his robe. “This is a Fire Nation drill. How do you know he’s not helping them?”

“He’s not,” Sokka said firmly. “I know he’s not. It's kind of a long story, but I trust him, Katara. He’s not with the Fire Nation anymore. His sister is super scary, and she’s after him, too, and he still agreed to help. We came to stop the drill.”

“I don’t know…” Katara said.

“Well, I believe him,” the girl butted in. Katara shot her an exasperated look. She just scratched at a little blob of slurry that had splattered on her neck and shrugged, entirely unphased. “Hey, if he says this guy is on our side, what do I care where he’s from?”

“Toph, you don’t know him,” Katara said. “Aang and I have seen what Zuko is like. He—”

“Actually,” Aang said. “I think… maybe Zuko isn’t so bad.”

“Wh—Aang! How could you think that?” Katara asked. Aang shrugged sheepishly.

“He’s helped me before, too,” he said, “at Pouhai Stronghold.”

Well. That was the first Sokka was hearing of it, but that definitely explained why Zuko had been so weird when he’d been talking about his run-ins with the Earth Kingdom Army around the stronghold. He’d ask him about it, as soon as they were all safe.

Katara still didn’t look convinced. Her fingers curled tighter in the front of Sokka’s robe, her mouth twisted down. She turned to study Sokka’s face. Her eyes were wide, red-rimmed and distrustful, and something about the way she looked at him clicked into place in his mind.

Of course she was wary. Zuko was from the Fire Nation, and she’s just gone for weeks thinking the Fire Nation had stolen her brother from her. She’d probably spent the whole time wondering when Zuko was going to show up again. Knowing Katara, she’d probably spent those weeks darkly hoping he would try. He tucked a muddy strand of hair behind her ear.

“You don’t have to believe me,” Sokka said gently, “but I still have to go. Zuko is still inside, and he’s all alone. I can’t just leave him there.”

Katara took a short breath and caught his hand.

“Okay,” she said. “I trust you. And… we need to stop the drill, anyway. We were trying to find a way inside.”

Katara scrubbed her hands over her face. It left dirty streaks on her cheeks, but when she opened her eyes again, she looked fiercely determined. Sokka smiled gratefully.

“Zuko and I got inside through one of the coolant pipes,” Sokka said. He turned to scan the underbelly of the drill for another opening. “But now that you guys are here, maybe we can...”

“Yeah, no way am I going in there,” Toph interrupted. “I’ll try to slow them down from the outside. My feet can’t see in there.”

Sokka stared at her.

“Your...” Sokka said. “Your feet can’t… What does that even mean?”

“Sokka, focus,” Katara said. “You’ve already been inside once, right? So how do we stop the drill?”

“Right,” Sokka mumbled. He scrubbed his muddy hands on his equally muddy pant legs and then dug around in his pocket. “So based on this...” He pulled the schematic out of his pocket with a wet sshct. It dripped little flecks of slurry down the front of his shirt as he tried to peel it apart “...based on this... muddy blob of paper, uh, you’re just gonna have to trust me—”

Sokka pointed to the smear that was the boiler room, then traced his finger along to where the outer supports of the hull criss-crossed though the drill. “Originally we were going to try to sabotage the engine room with Zuko’s firebending, but since none of us can firebend…”

He glanced at Aang for confirmation, who shrugged helplessly.

“Since none of us can firebend,” Sokka repeated, pointing to the schematics again, “we’re gonna need a different strategy. So. If you just find these supports and break them, the drill won’t be able to handle the strain—”

“Wait. What do you mean, if we find them?” Katara asked. “What about you?”

“I’m not going with you,” Sokka said. “I’m going to find the conning tower.”

“No, Sokka,” Katara said, fingers tightening on his arm. “Absolutely not!”

“I have to find Zuko,” Sokka said.

“We can’t split up!” Aang said. “Sokka, we just found you again. We can’t let you go alone.”

“Guys, we have to,” Sokka said. “You need to stop the drill, and I can’t—you don’t need me there for that.”

There was no point in Sokka coming with them when he couldn’t bend. The only thing he could do for them was watch them work, or maybe read the map, though now that it was thoroughly water logged he wasn’t even sure he could do that much. And if he couldn’t help them, then at least he could help Zuko.

“If we go to the conning tower, do you think we can stop the drill from there?” Aang asked.

“Well, yes—” Sokka said.

Katara cut in before he could finish. “Then that’s what we’re doing,” she said firmly.

“Yes, but that’s stupid and dangerous,” Sokka insisted. “There will be guards. Azula will be there. Even if she doesn’t know we’re coming, she’s not going to just let us waltz in and take the controls.”

“We’re coming with you,” Aang said stubbornly. “Just tell us what to do.”

He should argue, and talk them out of it, because this would have been a huge risk even if they didn’t have any other options. But when he opened his mouth to protest, the words caught. Both of them fixed him with such fiercely determined looks, Sokka couldn’t help but nod.

They weren’t going to beat Azula by fighting her head on. Even with Aang and Katara, the drill was enormous. Who even knew how many firebending crewmembers it took to operate it? Even if they could beat them all, and Azula and her equally scary friends—and that was a big if—they’d never be able to do it fast enough to stop the drill before it breached the Outer Wall.

The schematics were only so detailed. They assumed a certain amount of Fire Nation engineering background, which Sokka didn’t have, and while he was pretty good at figuring things out as he went, there was a limit to what he could manage from just a piece of paper.

But Katara wouldn’t even hear of splitting up when they’d just found each other, so that plan was out. At least the control tower was what sent Azula’s signals from the bridge to the rest of the drill. If they could get there, they should be able to sabotage the drill’s operations long enough to shut it down.

This plan had a lot more ifs than he was comfortable with. Honestly, breaking down the drill’s supports would be a much safer, much more reliable strategy…

But the control tower was right next to the bridge, the bridge meant Azula, and if he could find Azula he could find—

Spirits, this was a terrible idea.

They left Toph outside. She needed solid ground to see, but she insisted she was a good enough earthbender to help them from there. Katara and Aang both looked a lot more confident knowing she was going to try to slow the drill’s progress, so Sokka was inclined to believe her.

Aang gave them a boost up to one of the maintenance portals. It was too high up on the body of the drill for them to have reached when it was just him and Zuko, but not too tall for someone who could build a convenient stone elevator. The column crumbled to dust as soon as they stepped off, shattered with a quick trust of Toph’s hand.

Katara drew the water from her flask and slashed at the bolt on the hatch until it wobbled enough to pry open. It clearly wasn’t built to be an entrance, though, which meant it dumped them into a cramped corridor far from the main walkways that might take them to the control room. It was near pitch black when they pulled the door closed behind them, but they couldn’t afford to leave it open with the mechanical grinding of the drill echoing too loudly down the passage.

At least having done this once before, Sokka had a vague idea of where he was going. Still, there were about a million maintenance tunnels marked out on his schematics. Sokka’s memory was good, but it wasn’t that good, so they ended up doing a lot more fumbling in the dark than he would have liked as they tried to find their way to the main deck. Sokka banged his head on a support in the low light, and cursed quietly as he groped for the knob that should be… somewhere around here...

His hands found the edge of it in the dark, and he leaned his weight into it to push it aside. It opened into another dark corridor, but this one was wider, at least, built with foot traffic in mind, so they had to be getting closer.

Boy, did he miss having a firebender around. The thought twisted anxiously in his stomach. He hoped Zuko was okay. He was so reckless, especially when it came to his sister, and if he’d gotten hurt trying to protect Sokka...

“You’re really that worried?” Katara whispered. Sokka jumped, and shot her a guilty look in the dark. He should be paying attention, not letting his mind wander. Katara frowned a little more at his distraction. “About Zuko?” she prompted, like she wasn’t completely convinced they were talking about the same person.

Sokka glanced back at her, then at the corridor up ahead of them. He gestured for her to wait, just a moment, and not just because he needed to gather his thoughts. He could hear muffled conversation echoing in the distance, but the coast was still clear when he leaned around the corner. There was light up ahead, though, and a ladder leading upward. That had to be the control room, and the conning tower above it. They were almost there.

He glanced back. Katara was watching him, clearly impatient and trying not to show it. He sighed.

“It’s a long story,” Sokka said at length, “but he’s… Katara, he’s important.”

She looked skeptical. He hesitated for just a moment, warring with a flicker of nerves. But this was his sister, so…

“To me,” he clarified. “He’s important to me.”

“What!” Katara shouted, much too loud. Sokka clapped a hand over her mouth to muffle whatever she was about to say next.

“Shh, Katara, we’re sneaking!” he hissed. She made an indignant noise behind his hand. The startled look on her face made him dart his eyes away. He could feel a thread of self-consciousness curling in his stomach as she tugged insistently on his hand. “Just… please.”

He’d meant please keep your voice down, except the words came out much too tight, and it was embarrassingly obvious that he wasn’t just nervous about being caught. Katara’s eyes widened just a fraction, startled by the honesty, and the raw edge to his voice. Her gaze softened. Sokka couldn’t help but flush at the startled, knowing look on her face.

Katara opened her mouth to say something, but before she could the sound of hurried footsteps echoed down the hall. Sokka cut her off with a frantic gesture. They pressed back against the wall in the darkness and watched as two engineers sprinted past, heading in the direction they’d just come from. Sokka bit his lip. If they looked close enough, they’d probably find the broken hatch. They might not have much more time...

Aang glanced between them both, practically bouncing with impatience as they waited for the engineer to hurry off, probably, to fix something Toph had broken. He’d obviously been listening to every word, and that only made Sokka’s flush deepen, but… he wasn’t embarrassed, and he definitely wasn’t anxious about how they’d react. He told himself that, heart in his throat, palms pressed flat against the wall, waiting for the coast to be clear, and waiting to hear what Katara was going to say, if she….was okay with it, or if...

“Aang and I can take care of the drill,” Katara said softly, once the sound had disappeared down the corridor. She put a hand on his forearm, and every ounce of nervous energy flooded out of him in a relieved rush. “We’ll make sure of it, so don’t worry. Zuko’s going to be okay. Okay? He has you.”

Sokka had to blink rapidly a few times, and clear his throat, for no particular reason at all.

“Thanks,” he said, and if it came out a little choked, Katara didn’t even tease him about it. He’d missed this—the support of his sister, no questions asked—more than anything, and the fact that Katara would extend that to Zuko, too, even if it was just for Sokka’s sake, was such a relief that it was almost too much to bear. He couldn’t just say that though, so... “I really missed you.”

“We really missed you, too,” Katara said, and Sokka thought that she got it, anyway.

Sokka nudged Aang and Katara toward the control room.

“Just be careful,” he whispered, “and don’t do anything until my signal.”

Katara nodded seriously. Sokka started up the ladder alone, as quietly as he could manage on the metal rungs. It was easier to sneak when it was only him, and he needed all the advantage he could get. Azula was scarily perceptive, and the second she noticed that something was off, their plan would be blown. He could hear voices coming from the control room. Men Sokka didn’t recognize, at first, reporting the distance until breech, and Sokka’s heart sank at the sound. Katara and Aang slipped through the door. He held his breath, but after a moment another unknown voice responded, just as calm as before. They hadn’t been spotted.

The conning tower was built directly above the control room, on a steam-powered lift that could raise it into the air for a better vantage point. It was lowered now, though, in preparation for penetrating the wall. The short corridor between the ladder and the room was connected with a retractable grate, and it wobbled slightly under his weight. He slowed down to keep the rattling from giving him away, hoping that the muffled whine of the drill was enough to cover for him.

“—not a traitor, are you Zuko?” Azula asked.

Sokka froze. His heart leapt into his throat. He’d found him—and Azula, which wasn’t great, but right now Sokka didn’t care about anything other than finding out if Zuko was okay.

“I need you. We could take the city together,” she said. It was quiet in the room for a beat too long. Sokka shuffled forward, trying to see. “Join me, and at the end of this day Father will see what we can accomplish. You can have your honor back—everything you want.”

Anxiety rose in Sokka’s throat, but…

But Sokka wasn’t worried that Zuko would agree. He wasn’t worried that he would betray them, or help his sister capture the city. Sokka knew him, and he wasn’t afraid of any of those things. He was afraid because—

“No,” Zuko said sharply.

Because Zuko was a stubborn idiot, and a terrible liar.

Azula hissed through her teeth, and Sokka couldn’t see her, but he could picture the expression on her face, unused to rejection. That was definitely Sokka’s cue, if he didn’t want Zuko to dig himself any deeper than he already had—

He needed a distraction. Sokka tried to lean forward enough that he could get a look around the corner. His elbow touched one of the pipes lining the wall, and he snatched his arm back quickly, biting his tongue to keep quiet. The metal was burning hot, probably connected to the coolant system. He hesitated, testing the heat with the back of his hand. If the pipes were this hot, they probably were filled with steam…

Yeah, that could work.

Sokka brought his boomerang down hard on the seam, and the pipe burst with a shriek of water and steam. It stung his hand as he wrenched his arm back, near scalding, and the cloud instantly flooded the room.

The bridge erupted into confused shouting. Moments later the sound of distant, and much, much more alarmed shouts rose from below. That must be Katara’s handiwork as she took the commotion as Sokka’s signal to get moving. It was already dark inside the corridor, and the steam made it impossible to make out more than vague shapes in the dim light.

Sokka ducked down, sprinting toward the sound of Zuko’s voice. He wasn’t hard to find—Azula hadn’t cried out when the pipe burst, but Zuko was swearing like a sailor. Sokka moved to grab his arm, and then immediately shied away when Zuko flinched, with fire in his palms.

“Relax,” Sokka whispered. “It’s me.”

Zuko stared at him, dumbfounded. The fire winked out. Sokka took that as permission to grab Zuko’s hand without the risk of freshening up the burn on his side that had just, finally, stopped twinging when it rained. He was so ridiculously glad to see him, and to see that he was okay—perfectly okay, actually, because Azula must have wanted to try to recruit him, first, and they’d gotten here just in time—

“What are you doing here?” Zuko asked faintly. Sokka scoffed.

“What do you think I’m doing, dummy?” Sokka asked.

“You... came back to stop the drill?” Zuko guessed.

“Unbelievable,” Sokka muttered under his breath, “Zuko, I came back for you.”

Sokka tugged on Zuko’s hand, guiding him away from the center of the room, back toward the door. The air was so thick with steam that he could barely see, but it wasn’t nearly as bad as the coolant pipe they’d crawled through earlier. Zuko stumbled a little, and pulled back against Sokka’s hand.

“What about the controls?” he asked.

“Aang and Katara are handling it,” Sokka said.

Zuko’s expression flickered, uncertain but mostly surprised, because as far as either of them had known they didn’t know about the drill. Maybe he was just surprised that Sokka had found them so quickly—luckily, more like—but Sokka suspected the real reason for the uncertainty was the same reason that he’d been so upset when he’d realized that Sokka knew they were in the city, and had been hiding it from him.

“Zuko,” Sokka said, pulling him a little closer… because they needed to go, yes, but also because he wanted Zuko close to him, all the time, even when it was probably stupid and dangerous when they were in a hurry. “I trust them with their job, so trust me with mine, okay?”

Zuko frowned, determined, and Sokka’s heart warmed at how he nodded without hesitation.

“I’ll help,” Zuko said. “What is it?”

Sokka shoved him toward the doorway.

“Saving the prince in distress, of course,” he said.

Zuko flushed, and only partly managed to squash down the incredulous laugh that startled out of him. The grate rattled beneath their boots as Sokka groped for the ladder, the sound echoing strangely down the corridor. He couldn’t help but grin at the look on his face, partly shrouded by the steam.

The deck beneath them shuddered violently. Sokka yelped and stumbled backward as it retracted, the high-pitched whine of the conning tower controls rising behind them. He whirled to try to grab Zuko’s arm, to push him to jump for it before the tower rose too high, but before he could the whole floor lurched as the tower began to lift away.

Heat flashed over his shoulder, and Zuko flinched forward to deflect it before he even seemed to register the blue light. He pushed Sokka behind him with a hand on his waist, and Sokka ducked his head as another bolt of fire split over Zuko’s fingers.

“Frankly, it’s insulting,” Azula said, “that you thought you could use the same trick to escape me twice. Unlike you, I learn from my mistakes.”

Azula leaned away from the control panel and strolled out of the cloud of steam. The air was rapidly clearing as the conning tower rose, steam whisking away on the wind. She clicked her tongue with an exaggerated, disappointed look that was probably meant to goad Sokka. It really shouldn’t work when both of them knew she was doing it, but Zuko bristled like she’d insulted him personally.

The tower lurched to a stop again, only half-raised. Sokka might have thought that was on purpose, if it wasn’t for the tick of Azula’s brow, and the way her eyes flashed lightning-quick back toward the conn. Why had it—?

The lift was steam powered. The lift was steam powered, and Sokka had broken one of the pipes.

Sokka slammed his boomerang down on another pipe. The steam shrieked through the little puncture, and he flinched badly at the way it burned his hand. He just grit his teeth and turned for the next one.

Azula scowled and moved to take a bending stance, but before she could the ground lurched violently. The force nearly threw Sokka to his knees. Zuko grabbed his arm to steady him as the conning tower plummeted several feet downward, the lift losing pressure as the steam escaped.

“Jump,” Sokka said, and Zuko was thick-headed, impulsive, and absolutely perfect, so he didn’t even hesitate, shoving Sokka backwards before Azula could even register the word.

They hit the deck hard, and it shuddered terrifyingly under their weight. He nearly lost his footing again, and somehow managed to keep it between Zuko’s vice-like grip on his arm and the adrenaline-fueled thundering of his heart.

Azula screamed behind them, and the deck thundered again as she jumped down after them. Sokka spared a glance over his shoulder, and his heart leapt in his throat.

Azula was glaring icily, widening her stance in a way Sokka was growing much too familiar with by now. Zuko saw it, too, reacting almost as soon as she raised her fingers to—spirits, to shoot lighting in a tiny, metal room—

A gust of air rushed past them. It slammed into Azula and threw her backwards out the open-ended walkway, the metal of her armor spitting sparks as it scraped along the hull on the top of the drill.

“Hi, Zuko!” Aang shouted as he skidded past, barely pausing before diving out the opening after her. “You guys go help Katara!”

Zuko looked completely stunned, although it was hard to say if it was because Aang had saved them, or because, just this once, it wasn’t him being thrown around with airbending. Sokka nudged him.

“Isn’t it so much better to be on the good side?” Sokka teased.

Azula shoved her bangs out of her face with a snarl and leapt to her feet. Aang barely touched the ground before he was darting past her. Azula had to know she was being taunted. She spared Zuko an angry look before whirling to follow him, anyway.

“He’s the Avatar,” Sokka assured Zuko. “If anyone can take her, it’s Aang.”

The whole drill rumbled, and Sokka chuckled nervously at the horrible grinding noise that followed. He could hear alarmed shouting from somewhere behind the cloud of steam. That must be Katara. The drill was winding to a shrieking halt, its moving parts protesting the sudden loss of power. He did not like that sound at all. It was time to go, because they really didn’t want to be around when whatever Katara had just broken proved how important it was.

Sokka squeezed Zuko’s arm, tugging him toward the doorway.

The ladder was slick with condensation. He slid more than climbed down. The steam was even worse down here, without the wind from the open tunnel to clear it. The sound of his boots hitting the deck was swallowed by the fight echoing down the corridor. Zuko landed beside him before he could even turn back to check he was following, arm hovering at his elbow so that they didn’t lose each other in the mist.

“Katara?” Sokka called out. There was a pause, and then Sokka could feel the steam prickling against his arms, the sticky humidity clinging to his skin.

No, not clinging, but gliding past like water. The steam cleared in a rush, condensing around a shadow at the end of the hall. The air cleared as Katara pulled the water toward her. She swung the condensed water back toward the doorway like a whip, one-handed, with her left arm held awkwardly at the elbow. Ty Lee flinched back from trying another strike. She yelped as the water burst, and Katara clenched her fist, flash-freezing her to the floor.

Katara spun on her heel and met Sokka’s eyes. Her gaze flicked to Zuko’s face. Her expression was hard to read—she almost looked surprised to see him, like she hadn’t fully managed to convince herself that the Zuko Sokka had been talking about was in fact the same Zuko who’d been chasing them across the world.

Which… he wasn’t. Sokka took Zuko’s hand, and that little gesture seemed to snap her out of it. She glanced quickly over her shoulder, realized it was time to go, and sprinted down the hall.

“No fair!” Ty Lee shouted after her.

There was a hairline cut on Katara’s cheek. Sokka noticed it and tensed, because, oh, right—

The gloomy girl. She leaned around the doorway, knife raised. There wasn’t much room in the hallway, but he was not taking his chances with Katara wide open. She was too good with those knives. Sokka aimed to deflect her throw, and Katara yelped in surprise as the metal-on-metal clang echoed down the hallway. His boomerang bounced to the side and clattered against the wall, and Katara barely hesitated to snatch it as she ran past. Her boots slid on the floor as she skidded through the entryway.

Zuko slammed the door shut between them. His gaze locked on the girl’s through the window. She glared—no, they watched each other, and then…

The tiniest smile flashed over her face. Sokka almost moved to pull Zuko back, expecting some kind of trick, but then Zuko smiled too. Instead of trying to force her way through, she spun one of her knives on her finger and turned back. Ty Lee was still ineffectively scratching at the ice freezing her to the floor. She offered Ty Lee the knife with a little shrug. Ty Lee flashed her a grateful smile, and then she turned one last quick look toward Zuko before he turned away from the window.

Did she just—let them go?

“What was that about?” Sokka demanded, delighted. That gloomy girl had just smiled at him, not a knife in sight. More importantly, Zuko had smiled back. Sokka might not have even noticed, if he wasn’t so used to reading his tiny expressions.

“We’re running, Sokka,” Zuko said.

“We can run, and you can tell me what that was about,“ Sokka said.

“Sokka, let’s go!” Katara shouted. She was flexing her fingers, like she was trying to will the sensation back into them. Zuko grabbed the front of his shirt, yanking him through the doorway, and Sokka allowed himself one last curious glance before he let him drag him down the hallway. Right. Escaping.

The pipes on either side of Sokka groaned, and then burst, shrieking steam. At first Sokka thought that the drill was just collapsing, that whatever Katara had done was rippling through the drill piece-by-piece, but then another pipe burst ahead of them. The water coiled toward Katara’s outstretched hand.

The shouting from the control room was drawing attention, and Sokka could hear boots ringing on the metal deck of the hall. He barely had a chance to reach for his boomerang. Katara thrust her arm forward the moment the first man rounded the corner.

The water whipped across the soldiers, hissing angrily in places where the firebender had attempted to counter. There was a resounding clang as five sets of armor slammed against the back wall, the ugly note hanging in the air for a moment.

Sokka couldn’t help but laugh at the look on Zuko’s face. Katara may have learned her forms in the North, but she’d gotten good in the time they’d been apart. This time he was the one pulling Zuko along, through the doorway that Katara had cleared, and out into the dusty air, boots ringing against the metal grating of the catwalk.

“Where’s Aang?” Katara asked. She jumped off the catwalk without looking, and a little bubble of slurry rose up to break her fall when she landed. She wheeled around to look back at the drill.

“I think,” Toph stomped, and a slab of stone slammed up to block the door they’d just run through, “he’s still dancing with that angry girl on the roof.”

Toph punctuated that with another crack of stone, sealing off another entrance.

The drill wasn’t moving anymore. The low, grumbling sound of the treads against the earth and the sound of the drill head winding up had been replaced with a banging, groaning sound, as the control tower tried and failed to send signals to the rest of the drill, and the pieces buckled under the strain.

Zuko grabbed Sokka’s arm again, this time to help lower him down, and then he just jumped off the catwalk like the graceful jerk he was, splattering Sokka with slurry up to his waist. Sokka put out a hand to steady him, anyway, and then he just didn’t let go, because spirits. Zuko was okay, and they’d gotten out, and the drill was broken, and—

“Aang!”

Sokka jolted, and immediately felt guilty. They hadn’t even finished their escape yet. He couldn’t get distracted now. Katara and Toph had stopped running far enough back to see onto the roof of the drill. Sokka dragged Zuko over toward them. The wind had started to kick up. The dust and stone that had been raining down on them from the wall was spiraling toward the head of the drill.

Katara gasped and took an aborted step forward, before she visibly held herself back from running to him.

“What’s wrong?” Sokka asked.

“Nothing,” she said immediately. “He just—he’s entering the Avatar state.”

For a moment Sokka didn’t understand, and the expression on her face was so vulnerable that he immediately wanted to pull her into a hug. Aang would be fine! So why was she so—?

“He just,” Katara said quietly, “he hasn’t been able to since…”

Oh. The last time Sokka had seen this, he’d been staring down an enormous wall of water, all alone, knowing that he was just one small person against the power of the ocean spirit. Now a wall of dust and stone was churning around the hull of the drill, but Sokka wasn’t alone this time. Zuko grabbed his shoulder, like he thought that he could push Sokka behind him and somehow save him from whatever was coming next.

The wind was so strong that Sokka had to throw a hand up to shield his face from the sting of the sand buffeting against his cheeks. He could see Aang above them, and Sokka had an instant to pick Azula out from the roof of the drill. The ground around the drill cracked, columns of earth wrapping around them both like a closing fist.

She looked so small—both of them did—and Zuko’s hand tightened on Sokka’s shoulder. Toph stomped into the space between them, throwing up a wall of stone. The last thing Sokka saw was the moment that Azula’s fighting posture broke, and she dove for the open hatch she’d left behind her, and then they were swallowed behind Toph’s shield. The screech of metal warping under stone was deafeningly loud.

Something slammed into the wall a second later, but Toph didn’t even flinch. Sokka wasn’t going to question how she’d noticed that coming when he hadn’t even seen it.

“Wow,” Toph said, with a low whistle. The shrieking had stopped, replaced by the slow creaking of settling metal and stone, and the wind that had been howling a moment ago had dropped to a gentle breeze. Toph tapped her foot against the ground, and the wall retracted, revealing a boulder the size of Sokka’s torso, that probably would have taken his torso clean off if it had hit him. Sokka cringed at the image.

Toph stomped forward.

“Where was that energy when we were training, Twinkletoes?” she shouted, jabbing an accusatory finger toward the warped mess of metal and stone.

...It really did look like an enormous stone hand had reached out of the ground to wrap itself around the drill. The doors were buckled and blocked with thick slabs of rock… hopefully enough to keep Azula and her people trapped inside, at least until they could figure out what to do with them.

Sokka had to admit, it was impressive, and a good idea to trap her like that—better than trying to fight Azula head on, in any case. Katara was already running ahead of Toph, full tilt toward the spot where Aang had dropped. He sat up on his elbows when he heard Katara shout his name, so Sokka was going to leave her to it.

Sokka whirled on Zuko again. He startled at the sudden turn, looking every bit the guilty jerk he was. Sokka punched him in the arm, which earned him a scowl, and then pulled him into a hug, which, to his smug satisfaction, had Zuko clinging as tightly as Sokka was.

“Stupid,” Sokka said, into Zuko’s ear. “What was the plan, exactly?”

Zuko hesitated long enough that Sokka didn’t really need to hear Zuko’s answer, to know that he didn’t have one. He knew that well enough by now.

“I just wanted to make sure you were safe,” Zuko admitted.

“Stupid,” Sokka insisted, squeezing tighter.

“I would have figured it out,” Zuko said. “I wasn’t going to just let her keep attacking the city.”

“You at least could have pretended to join her,” Sokka said, “instead of being your stupid, stubborn—”

“How many times are you going to call me stupid?” Zuko asked, exasperated. “Do you even like me?”

“Shut up,” Sokka scoffed. He hesitated, and then sighed, bumping his forehead against Zuko’s shoulder. Quieter, he said, “Shut up, you know I do.”

Zuko hummed, because he did.

“She would have known I was lying, anyway,” Zuko said. Sokka sighed.

“Yeah, maybe,” he said. Even if Zuko was a good liar—which he very much wasn’t—Azula was too clever. She probably would have been onto him from the start, and that was assuming her plan hadn’t been to double-cross him all along. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

Zuko hesitated, his hands rubbing little circles into Sokka’s back, more of a nervous gesture than soothing. It made the grit under his clothes from Zuko shoving him into a slurry pipe rasp uncomfortably against his shoulders. Sokka leaned into the touch greedily, anyway.

“Are you okay?” Zuko asked.

“Yeah,” Sokka said. “More than okay. I found my sister.”

Zuko’s worried frown deepened just a fraction.

“I… noticed,” he said at length. Sokka could guess why he was nervous. “What did she say?”

“Well, we didn’t really get a chance to talk much,” Sokka said, “considering I was trying to keep your sister from killing you—”

“Azula wouldn’t kill me,” Zuko said, with way more confidence than Sokka thought Azula deserved, but whatever.

“If you say so,” Sokka said, sidestepping that argument for another day. He gave Zuko what he hoped was another reassuring squeeze, and then let go. “I told her the important parts. That I trust you, and you’re on our side.”

“Hey, Dead Guy!” Toph shouted. She was waving at them with her whole body from the base of the wall. Aang looked like he was half asleep, leaning against Katara’s side and not really paying attention to anything, but Sokka didn’t miss the suspicious way that Katara was watching them both.

“Please don’t call me that,” Sokka called back.

“Dirtnap,” she said.

“No,” Sokka said.

“Snoozles,” she said.

“That one doesn’t even make sense,” Sokka tried to say.

Toph ignored him completely, shouting over his protests. “You’d better hurry up, if you don’t want to climb this wall yourself!”

She stomped the ground for emphasis, and a little platform jolted up a few inches under their feet. Sokka glanced back over at Zuko, whose expression had leveled out into an inscrutable mask. Sokka could tell that he was nervous, but to anyone else, he probably looked completely unphased. At least it was a step up from glaring.

Sokka laced his fingers through Zuko’s. He very graciously didn’t roll his eyes at how grateful Zuko looked, like he’d actually worried that Sokka would pretend the last few weeks had never happened, as he tugged Zuko over to join them at the wall.

They left the drill to the soldiers.

The top of the wall was swarming with earthbenders. They would have gladly thrown Sokka into a holding cell only a few hours ago, but they were with the Avatar now, and that meant that they didn’t even look their way twice except to thank Aang for his help. Sokka was hesitant to let them take over, at first, if only because these people didn’t know Azula like he and Zuko did, and just because she was trapped inside the broken drill didn’t mean she was completely harmless.

They couldn’t exactly say no when the Dai Li showed up though, so they let the man in charge take them back inside the wall. He introduced them to an overly cheerful woman named, of course, Joo Dee, who had brought a private carriage to escort them back to the house in the Upper Ring that they’d been staying in.

She put an arm out to bar the entrance into the carriage, fixing them all with a wide-eyed smile that brought Sokka straight back to the aviary. The intensity of the look made him want to edge a little closer to Zuko, but he wasn’t sure if that would be suspicious.

“I was told to escort the Avatar and his two companions back to the Upper Ring,” she said.

“Well, there’s four of them now!” Aang said, trying—and failing—to match her cheer. “This is Sokka, Katara’s brother, and—”

“Lee,” Sokka said hastily, because it wouldn’t take much digging for the holes in their story to show through, if the Dai Li tried probing at it. He really didn’t want to make their job any easier, and having Zuko’s name actually match his papers was probably the lowest bar possible. Sokka cleared his throat, awkwardly.

“And Lee!” Aang parroted happily.

“I see,” she said, and for a very long moment she didn’t move out of their way, waiting for a further explanation. She was clearly very curious as to how they had gone to fight the Fire Nation and managed to come back with two more esteemed companions than they’d started with.

“So,” Aang said, elongating the vowel just a little too much to be casual. He turned sideways, to sneak past her, and that seemed to jolt her into motion. The rest of them climbed awkwardly into the carriage, and Sokka nearly groaned aloud when she climbed in after them. Sokka took Zuko’s hand, mostly so that he could remind Zuko not to say anything too suspicious, even though Zuko looked like he was more likely to actually turn to stone than say anything. He let Sokka lace their fingers together, anyway.

Thankfully, his wonderful sister seemed to sense the tension, and even though Sokka could see in her expression that she was, maybe, only slightly less curious than Joo Dee was, she distracted their escort with a question about the wall.

Asking her pointless questions seemed the best way to distract her, and from the way Aang and Toph jumped in, he was going to guess that this wasn’t the first time they’d used this strategy. By the time they were pulling up in front of the house, Sokka knew more than he probably ever wanted to know about Ba Sing Se—and from what Sokka had seen while he’d been living here, some of it was just complete lies. At least she had agreed to send for Lee’s very normal and harmless Uncle Mushi, who would certainly be worried about them by now.

Appa was dozing in the courtyard when they arrived, but he climbed to his feet with a long stretch when he heard the carriage rolling down the road. Sokka had never been so excited to see that stinky pile of fur in his life. He stepped down from the carriage and into the courtyard.

“Appa, buddy—!” Something collided with Sokka’s head, making him stumble back into Zuko as he was trying to step down after him.

“Momo!” Sokka grabbed the lemur before he could crawl another excited lap around his head, tucking him under one arm so that he could pet him with the other hand. “Did you miss me buddy?”

Appa let out a low rumble. He sniffed them both, and then before Sokka could warn him, Appa licked Zuko all along his side. The expression on Zuko’s face was hilarious, torn between scandalized and disgusted. He glared at Sokka when he burst out laughing, grudgingly wiping saliva from his cheek.

Katara was staring very pointedly at his and Zuko’s joined hands. Sokka was sure he was going to get the grilling of a lifetime, but he was honestly so relieved that everyone was together again and okay that he would sit through a hundred needling questions. He glanced over his shoulder. Aang had stopped Joo Dee at the gate—good thinking, because she was watching them both over Aang’s shoulder like she was planning to follow them all inside. She seemed pretty suspicious of… everything about them, really, but it was hard to tell under that creepy smile.

“Let me talk to my brother, for a second,” Katara said. It was not a question, and Zuko didn’t need to be told twice. He shot Sokka one more nervous look, and then fled further into the house. Sokka cringed.

“Listen, if this is about…” he said. Sokka waved vaguely back in the direction of the door, where Zuko had gone, “I really need to talk to him first, so—”

Katara threw her arms around him, crushing the air out of his lungs. She squeezed him so hard that for a second he couldn’t breathe, arms near shaking with the effort. Had she always been this strong?

“It’s not—I mean, we definitely need to talk about that,” she said, her voice bobbling strangely between incredulous and tearful, “but that’s not what I wanted to talk about. Sokka, I thought you died.”

“I know,” Sokka said. He wrapped his arms around her back, and held her tight enough that her feet lifted off the ground for a moment. “I’m okay, though, really. I was just worried about you guys, but… I guess you didn’t really need me after all.”

“Don’t say that,” Katara said furiously. “We do need you. We…” She looked suddenly hesitant, her eyes flicking back toward the doorway. “You are coming with us, right?”

“Of course I’m—“ he began, but he trailed off at the look on her face. Katara looked strangely guilty, and the expression made his stomach flutter with nerves. “…Why are you being weird?”

She took a deep, bracing breath.

“I told Dad what happened,” Katara said. Sokka balked.

“You did what!” he said. How could she tell him—

But of course, she hadn’t known that he was okay… and it would have been worse, if the news had come from the Northern Water Tribe. His chest felt like it had been hollowed out, anyway, just imagining what Dad was thinking. Disappointed was not the right word, but Sokka’s mind jumped there, anyway. Dad had never wanted either of them to have to fight.

“Did you… see him?” Sokka asked. It wasn’t fair for him to feel jealous of that, either, but he was still strangely relieved when Katara shook her head.

“We sent him a letter,” Katara said. “But you’re—we have to go tell him you’re okay, in person, so you have to come with us.”

“Of course I’m coming with you,” Sokka said. Her shoulders sagged immediately, and Sokka realized that she’d actually been worried that he would want to stay in this stupid city—

With Zuko. She’d been worried he would want to stay with Zuko.

“Of course I’m coming,” he said again. “That was never a question. I just need to talk to Zuko and see what he’s going to do. If… he wants to come, too.”

Katara’s mouth twisted, skepticism and concern all wrapped into one.

“Are you sure about him?” she asked.

“I’m sure,” Sokka said immediately. “You missed a lot. Like, a lot. I’ll fill you in.”

The corners of her eyes crinkled.

“All right,” she said, and then she abruptly turned around, stomping further into the house like a woman on a mission. “Zuko!”

Oh no.

Zuko was standing awkwardly in the middle of the room, obviously just waiting for Sokka to come back, and not wanting to make himself comfortable. He stiffened like he was expecting an attack, when Katara called his name. That probably would have made sense, considering that the last time they’d fought had been at the Northern Water Tribe and, apparently, Katara had trounced him.

He looked like he might have preferred an attack when Katara threw her arms around him instead. It probably shouldn’t have been possible for him to go more stiff, but Zuko managed it, eyes as round as lotus tiles as he stared at Sokka over her shoulder.

Sokka offered him a little shrug, and then abandoned him to his fate. He turned his attention to exploring. This house was just ridiculous, with enormous high walls and embroidered curtains and a kitchen stocked with way more than three kids would have ever needed.

Still… their own apartment was better. It was such a strange thought to wander through Sokka’s mind, but it was true, if only because it felt like a home instead of a sterile, pretentious palace. Pretentious or not, a comfy cushion was a comfy cushion, and Sokka was not in the mood to be choosy. He hadn’t realized how exhausted he was until he was collapsing onto an empty sofa.

Zuko made a straight line for the spot beside him as soon as Katara tearfully let him go. He looked somewhere between baffled and disgruntled when Aang launched himself into the spot on Zuko’s other side.

“Hey, buddy,” he said to Aang. Sokka leaned over, to whisper in Zuko’s ear. “I told her you saved me from drowning. And I want her to like you, so I left out some of the details about why, and how, and also… most of the rest of it.” Sokka patted Zuko on the thigh. “So, you’re welcome.”

“So,” Toph said. She flopped down into the armchair across from them, hands behind her head, both legs sprawled in front of her. She leaned up a bit to stomp her foot, raising a stone footrest from the floor, and then stabbed one toe at them imperiously, like she couldn’t be bothered to point with her finger. “You’re Angry Ponytail.”

“We cut off the ponytail,” Sokka said helpfully. Zuko frowned.

“I’m not—” he started to snap, and then abruptly cut himself off, maybe realizing how absurd it was to shout about how not angry he was. Sokka snorted, and Zuko turned a half-hearted glare on him, instead.

“Katara said you tried to capture Aang,” she said.

“Many times,” Sokka agreed cheerfully. He refrained from further teasing, if only because Katara was starting to give them a look. Zuko cringed.

“I should… apologize for that,” he said. Sokka didn’t know what was funnier: Zuko’s awkward, stilted apology, or the fact that Aang was looking at him like he’d personally promised to take him penguin sledding. Aang grabbed onto his sleeve, and didn’t look the least bit deterred when Zuko looked at him like he had septapox.

“I’m just glad you’re okay. I was worried something happened to you, when you stopped chasing us,” Aang said earnestly.

That looked like the very last thing that Zuko had ever expected to hear. Of course, that was exactly the kind of thing that Sokka would have expected from Aang, because he was the kind of person to worry about his enemies as much as his friends. Zuko stared at him for a long moment, lips barely parted and clearly at a loss for what to say to that. Toph, oblivious to his plight, snorted.

“That’s because you’re a softie, Twinkletoes,” Toph said. “You need to toughen up, if you ever want to stop sucking at earthbending.”

Sokka had already guessed that she was the one teaching Aang earthbending, based on the very loud and unsubtle griping about his earthbending prowess in the Avatar state. Sokka listened to their stories of what he’d missed with growing horror, and the resolution to never leave Katara and Aang alone again. They clearly needed someone around to keep them out of trouble… and Sokka was not going to examine whether or not he was that person, considering how much trouble they’d found during their own journey.

If nothing else, they needed someone to keep them focused. Aang gave Sokka a brief rundown of the plan that they’d made for stopping the Fire Lord, once they’d left Ba Sing Se, and… well. Sokka was the plan guy, that was for sure. He beamed at Sokka anyway, when Sokka told him they would work on it, like that had been exactly what he’d wanted to hear.

They were always wound up after a fight, and Aang and Katara were especially so. Katara kept staring at him when she thought he wasn’t looking, eyes shiny and pretending she wasn’t sniffling, which was only making him feel even more guilty.

Sokka kept a hand on Zuko’s knee the entire time, trying to get him to relax, but Zuko was as tense and awkward after they’d shared their stories as he’d been back on the wall. At first Sokka thought that he was just being careful around Joo Dee, so that she wouldn’t figure out who he and his uncle were, but even after she’d left, even after Iroh had arrived with his usual unflappable cheer, Zuko seemed uncomfortable.

Sokka glanced over at him, not at all subtly. He looked like he was about to vibrate out of his skin, which just didn’t make sense, because his uncle was fine and the drill had been stopped, so the only thing he had left to worry about was…

Right. It was Katara and Aang he was worried about, not the Earth Kingdom. He was worried they were going to change their minds about him, because Zuko didn’t know them like Sokka did, so he didn’t know that Aang was probably already braiding friendship bracelets.

“You can relax, you know,” he said. Sokka patted him consolingly on the thigh, and only raised his eyebrows in challenge when Zuko gave him a flat look back.

“I’m relaxed,” Zuko insisted tensely.

“I’ll make some tea,” Iroh suggested. Zuko and Toph both snorted, and Katara gave them both a weird look, like she was trying to understand the joke.

That was how they got the story that Toph and Iroh had, apparently, met before, at some point during the time that they were traveling apart. There was something reassuring about the fact that she was at least a good enough judge of character to think that Iroh was great, and it didn't hurt that it was helping to warm Katara and Aang up to Zuko’s uncle.

Iroh was a professional by now at talking around their shared awkward past of chasing them all the way to the North Pole, and Sokka didn’t miss how relieved Zuko seemed, that neither Aang nor Katara were holding it against him. It was almost like he was more worried about them accepting his uncle than he was about them accepting him.

If Sokka didn’t know him better, he’d think it was because he didn’t care if they accepted him or not, or maybe that he thought that he didn’t have to try to win them over, since he’d already won Sokka over a hundred times.

Sokka didn’t really think that was it, though, and the alternatives made him nervous, because they hadn’t ever talked about what would happen next. The conversation was a long time coming.

Sokka waited until Zuko got up to help clear away their empty tea cups, and then followed him out. Katara tried to catch his eye as he made his way to the kitchen, one eyebrow raised in an obvious question that did nothing to cover up how worried she looked underneath. She’d been hovering ever since they’d gotten back, and… Sokka understood, really, because she’d thought he was gone. Still, Sokka wanted to talk with Zuko alone, before he did this with an audience, so he just shook his head a little, and waited until she reluctantly settled back into her chair before he ducked through the door.

Zuko was standing by the far wall, both hands flat against the countertop. He was thinking so hard that he was going to hurt himself, and Sokka could guess what was on his mind. He jumped a little when Sokka walked in, and then immediately looked nervous, which only confirmed Sokka’s suspicions.

“Come outside with me?” Sokka asked.

Zuko hesitated, but it only took a second for him to nod. He followed Sokka into the back garden.

“I wanted to talk about… what’s next,” Sokka said. That wasn’t exactly a surprise, but Sokka could still see how nervous it made him. He’d been so tense while they were serving tea, Sokka was surprised he hadn’t snapped the handle off of his uncle’s teapot.

That was Sokka’s fault, probably, because this conversation had been a long time coming. If he’d been less afraid of his answer, they would have talked about this before Zuko had found that flyer hidden in the bottom of his bag. It could have saved them a lot of heartache.

Sokka couldn’t stand to see Zuko still uncertain, though, so he reached out. It was like every bit of tension sank out of him when he took his hand.

“Aang and Katara have a plan for stopping your dad. It’s pretty terrible, but I’m gonna work out the kinks, and… Aang still needs to master earth and fire, so… they’re leaving. And I’m going with them,” Sokka said.

“I know,” Zuko said immediately. “I wouldn’t ask you to—”

“You know, Aang still needs a firebending teacher, and…” Sokka interrupted. He frowned, and shook his head, because this wasn’t really about Aang. Sokka wasn’t going to pretend that he didn’t want Zuko by his side for completely selfish reasons. “No. I want you to come with me, because I want you there.”

Zuko stared at him for a second too long to not be at least a tiny bit offensive.

“Oh, come on, you can’t be that surprised,” Sokka said. “You know I care about you. That I want you to stay with me.”

He almost hesitated, but—no, Sokka was sure. He knew how he felt, and he knew what he wanted. Sokka squeezed Zuko’s hand.

More softly, he said, “Zuko, you know I love you.”

The words came so easily. Sokka didn’t know why he waited so long. He could feel, in real time, the way Zuko’s skin warmed under his hand at the words.

“I know,” Zuko said faintly. “It’s just…”

Just that Sokka had never said it out loud, before. He’d just assumed Zuko knew, like Sokka knew that Zuko felt the same way. Zuko still looked kind of stunned, and also maybe the faintest bit pained, with that grumpy frown of his, maybe thinking that since Sokka had said it, now he needed to dig deep into that emotionally stunted heart of his, and—

Sokka put a hand around the back of Zuko’s head, and kissed the stupid look off his face. Zuko’s fingers tightened in the fabric of his tunic when he pulled away, and that might as well have been a grand declaration.

“The firebending would, you know, be helpful,” Sokka added lightly, “but you don’t have to. If you wanted to stay with your Uncle, Aang would understand.”

Sokka would understand, too. He wouldn’t like it, and it would kill him for Zuko to stay behind while Sokka went on ahead, but if Zuko had had enough of the war, Sokka would let him go. Zuko loved his uncle more than anything, and they’d spent too much time apart. It was a big ask, too, wanting him to keep fighting against his own nation, maybe even to have to face his sister and his father again one day, when he’d already suffered more than enough from both of them.

“Really?” Zuko asked, with a wry twist of his lips. “You’d just let us stay in Ba Sing Se, unsupervised?”

“Of course we would,” Sokka said. He trusted them, and he knew that even if they both decided to stay behind, Aang and Katara wouldn’t out them, because they would trust them if Sokka did.

“I mean, I wouldn’t be happy about it,” Sokka added. He put his hands on Zuko’s shoulders, and Zuko looked like he was suppressing a smile, as he obediently let Sokka pull him a little closer. “But that’s not because I don’t trust you. I’d miss you, but… even if I wanted to stay, I have to help Aang and Katara. You don’t have to come with us.”

“No, you’re right,” Zuko said. “I can’t stay in Ba Sing Se and pretend the war isn’t happening. I’ll help. If they’ll have me, I’ll help.”

Sokka grinned.

“They will,” Sokka insisted. He felt like he was going to burst, he was so happy, but Zuko only looked indulgent and a little wondering, like he could still hardly believe it even though it was written all over Sokka’s face. His hand drifted tentatively down to Sokka’s waist, fingers tracing the edge of his scar through the fabric. Sokka reached up to cup Zuko’s face, to trace his thumb over the bottom edge of his scarred cheek. Zuko’s breath shivered on a sigh, and he curled his fingers a little tighter, dull pressure against the sensitive skin.

Sokka kissed him under the ornate eave of the Avatar’s private garden, with the faint sound of his friends’ laughter drifting out from somewhere inside. It was cool, and private, and smelled of the ancient wisteria that had been coaxed to grow over the garden pagoda.

It was no dingy roof with broken tiles, but it would do. Sokka didn’t really care about the place, anyway. They’d find a hundred broken roofs, and ornate gardens owned by rich jerks sucking up to the Avatar, and breathtaking views from creaky saddles, and it wouldn’t matter nearly as much as it mattered that it was Zuko there with him.