Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

If plans were people, this plan would be Katara: fierce, honest, straightforward, and not going to let them down. Sokka doesn’t know why Katara of all people keeps calling it a ‘foolish Sokka plan.’ Not that it matters. Everyone else knows it’s an amazing plan, generously provided by his amazing brain.

“If this actually works,” Toph says, “I’ll eat a stone.”

Sokka is this close to dropping her. “Better make sure to harden your teeth, then,” he replies, stepping out of the tunnel, Katara on his heels. Yue is almost full in the sky, her light bright enough to illuminate the canyon and the grass and the forest. “Where to?” Sokka asks, adjusting Toph’s weight on his back. She isn’t the heaviest person he’s ever carried—he distinctly remembers trying to carry Bato when he was twelve, which has definitely not ended with Bato sticking head-first in a snow bank, he must be misremembering that part—but she is heavy enough to have him panting. One more reason to hate the treacherous firebender, and Toph’s stubbornness to come along despite not being able to walk.

“Left,” Toph orders, pulling on Sokka’s left ear as if ears were reins. “At least that’s where he was last night.”

He might be long gone now. If he has a shred of sense left in him, he will be gone. But on the other hand … The jerkbender prince and shreds of sense? Yeah, no.

Sokka shares a glance with Katara, who nods once, a fierce expression on her face, and with Aang, who looks unhappy but determined. The grass is soft and muffles Sokka’s footsteps despite the extra weight on his back.

They don’t have to go far. Shortly after entering the forest, they find a makeshift tent, a fireplace with some embers still glowing, and the sleeping Fire Nation prince curled up under a blanket. He looks almost peaceful, in sleep. Almost … harmless.

Sokka isn’t fooled for a second. His heart is thumping as if there were a tap dancer inside his chest. He hasn’t forgotten what happened to Toph when she was in the same place exactly a day ago, the blisters on her feet, the skin peeling away at her soles, the smell that made his stomach rumble in a way human bodies shouldn’t—

But this time, they outnumber the firebender, this is his plan, and it’s a great plan that will work.

Sokka sets Toph down on the ground on her knees, motions Katara to the right, Aang to the left, then goes to his position in front of the tent so they have the enemy surrounded. Aang readies his staff, Katara’s hand is hovering over her waterskin, Toph has her fists on the ground and a boulder the size of Sokka’s torso in the air in front of her. As silently as he can, Sokka draws Space Sword out of its scabbard. Not silently enough, apparently.

The prince is on his feet before Sokka’s brain has even registered him waking up, fire in both hands, and the fireplace that was empty a moment ago is now blazing with flames, the sudden light blinding, the heat beating against Sokka’s skin—

And then a big puddle of water lands on the fireplace with a splash, leaving nothing but a cloud of mist.

“You try that again,” Katara says, breathing heavily, “and you’re dead.” Which is not one of the lines Sokka has scripted for her, but seems to do the job just fine.

The jerkbender blinks, staring at Katara as if he’s only just recognized her, then rotates in place to take in Aang, and Toph, and Sokka. With an audible exhale, he closes his hands to fists, extinguishing the flames. “When will you finally learn that waking a firebender like this is dangerous?”

Sokka glares at him. “Oh, so you’re saying it’s Toph’s fault that you burned her feet?”

“I—yes, I mean … no, but—“

“Just shut up.” Sokka waggles his sword at the enemy prince menacingly, almost loses his balance, and makes up for it by glaring harder. “We’ve changed our minds.”

The prince frowns, turning his head to glance between them again like an oversized owl-giraffe, before he properly faces Aang, exposing his back to Sokka in the process. “So you’ll … You’ll let me be your firebending teacher?”

Aang’s face darkens. “No.”

“Uh …”

“We have, however,” Toph says, “changed our minds concerning the taking-you-prisoner option.”

The firebender turns to her, face unreadable. “You’re taking me prisoner?”

“We are,” Katara says. “And we don’t care whether you’ve changed your mind about wanting to be our prisoner.” Bending another puddle from her waterskin, she sends it flying at the prince, freezing his legs together and knocking him over. Sokka is there in an instant, pressing a knee between the prince’s shoulder blades to keep him down. He drops his sword to take a rope from his pocket, wrenches the prince’s arms behind his back and ties them together. The jerk doesn’t even struggle.

The prince doesn’t resist when Katara bends water into the rope so he can’t burn through it easily, doesn’t resist when Sokka drags him to his feet, doesn’t resist when Katara nudges him to keep up with Aang, who is leading the way back to the temple. He just keeps his back rigid and his jaw clenched, and doesn’t say a word, and doesn’t look at anyone.

What was he thinking, asking them to take him prisoner? Why can’t he ever think things through before speaking? You should not drink the tea before you’ve brewed it, how often has Uncle told him that?

Zuko’s thoughts are spiraling almost as fast as the steps leading down to the Air Temple. The Avatar is in front, carrying a lamp, and Zuko can feel the flame, could easily take control of it, use it to burn the boy’s hand, then turn around and kick the waterbender in the face, and run before either of them recover … But he wants to help these children, not fight them. If he hurts them now, they will never trust him, never accept his help, and then they’ll lose against Father and he will—

He concentrates on the pain in his wrists to keep from finishing this line of thought. The rope was already too tight when the boomerang guy tied Zuko’s hands, but since the waterbender soaked it, it has swelled, digging into his flesh, chafing his skin raw. He tries to hold his arms as still as possible to minimize the damage, but the waterbender keeps on shoving him as if to remind him of her presence, stirring his arms so he has to bite his lower lip to keep from grunting. He’s not going to give her the satisfaction of hearing him suffer. It’s just a rope. He can take it. He’s had worse.

“I can’t believe that worked!” the waterbender says.

“I told you it would work,” her brother replies, panting slightly. He’s the last in line, carrying the earthbender girl whose feet Zuko accidentally burned. “Best plan I ever made.”

Zuko tries to tap the fingers of his right hand against the fingers of his left, and can’t feel either hand. Not a good sign.

“The plan was literally ‘Tell the enemy we’re taking him prisoner, and then take him prisoner.’”

Zuko keeps on walking, bracing himself for another shove, but he can’t stay quiet. “I am not your enemy.”

“Oh, right,” Boomerang Boy says, “I forgot you were hunting us from continent to continent purely because you like us so much.”

They’ve been over this yesterday already, so Zuko is more than a little exasperated. “I have changed! I told you I have changed! If you’d just listen—”

The waterbender snorts, but doesn’t give him another shove. “You’ve tried that lie before. I won’t fall for it again.”

“But it’s different this time, you have to—” He’s about to turn around to face them, and there’s the shove he’s been waiting for. Zuko grits his teeth.

“We don’t have to do anything, jerkbender,” Boomerang Boy says. “But you have to shut up and walk.”

Zuko does as he’s told, not feeling like having his arms stirred more than necessary. It’s fair, he guesses, he has caused them so much pain over the last few months that he can’t blame them for wanting to cause him pain in return.

When they reach a large balcony in the temple, the children start debating how to keep him from using his firebending to fry them all. He tells them he won’t, but everyone ignores him. They’ve seen the way he can bend with his feet and debate tying him up completely, but aren’t sure whether he might be able to make sparks fly from his ears, or shoot lightning from his eyes, or breathe fire. He’s not about to tell them one of the three is true.

In the end, the earthbender girl raises her voice from where she’s sitting on the floor, the soles of her feet in the air. “You.” She doesn’t face Zuko, but her tone makes it clear it’s him she’s talking to. “Stand over there.” She points to the side of the balcony they’re currently standing on, to a place near the wall of the neighboring upside-down building, not far from the abyss.

He wrenches his gaze from the canyon and looks back at her, taking in the set face, the underlying anger, the tone brooking no argument. “I, uh …” he stammers, his throat dry because how can a twelve-year-old girl who isn’t Azula remind him so much of Father, how can she sound so much like he always did before inflicting punishments with careless abandon? Zuko gulps. “Listen, I am sorry I burned your feet, I didn’t mean to—” But Father never listened, never cared for excuses, why should anyone else?

“Stand. Over. There.”

Zuko looks at the others for help, and doesn’t find a single friendly face. No, they think he’s a threat they can’t handle, but can’t let loose on the world either, they need him removed, they need him dead, and telling him they want to keep him as their prisoner was just a ploy to make sure he’ll come along without making a fuss, and he has fallen for it like he’s fallen for Azula’s cruel games hundreds of times, because he’s apparently incapable of learning from his mistakes.

“I have changed, I swear it on my—my honor, I am dedicating my life to helping the Avatar, I won’t hurt any of—” A dishonorable yelp leaves his lips when the patch of ground he’s standing on suddenly moves and he’s racing towards where the temple wall meets the canyon. The movement stops abruptly and Zuko loses his balance, instinct wants him to catch his fall with his hands but his arms won’t move, and his knees slam into the ground with a painful crunch. His wrists are burning.

This is it. The earthbender will entomb him in the wall, or smash his head in with a giant boulder, or push him into the abyss. He takes a deep breath, trying to steady his heartbeat. His end is coming, but he’ll at least face it with dignity. “If this is your punishment, I will accept it. I am not afraid,” he says, hoping saying it will make it true. “At least let me die standing.”

“Die?” the Avatar squawks. “Why would you die?”

Zuko blinks. “Because … Isn’t she … Isn’t she going to—”

“She’s going to build you a prison,” the earthbender says, stemming her palms against the stone floor.

Zuko flinches as the floor rises up all around him, rock meeting rock with a deafening crack. When it’s over, it’s darker than before, but he is still alive, and he can make out solid walls of rock to three sides, a solid roof of rock low enough that he could touch it if his arms were free, and thick stone bars to the fourth side, the space between them too small for him to squeeze through. He can’t see the balcony or the canyon or the children through the bars, only the wall of the adjacent temple building, a few feet away.

Someone whistles appreciatively, and then Boomerang Boy moves into view. Zuko struggles to his feet, trying to keep from trembling.

“I like it,” Boomerang Boy says.

“I don’t,” Zuko replies.

“Nobody cares.”

“I can’t see the sun.”

“I can’t either,” Boomerang Boy says. “It’s the middle of the night, duh.”

“I mean I won’t be able to see the sun from here, even when it’s shining.”

“Again, nobody cares.”

The Avatar and the waterbender crowd into the small space between the bars of his cell and the temple wall too, gawking at him as if he were an animal in a zoo. Zuko glares back.

“Time for the rules,” Boomerang Boy says.

“Rules?”

“Rules,” the guy confirms, starting to tick them off on his fingers. “Rule number one: No shouting for help or we’ll stuff a sock into your mouth.” Not that anyone would hear him if he tried, anyway. “Rule number two: No insulting any of us or we’ll stuff an unwashed sock into your mouth. Rule number three: No firebending or we’ll kill you.”

The Avatar gasps. “What? No we won’t!”

“Shhh. Yes, we will,” Boomerang Boy says, waggling his eyebrows at the Avatar.

Zuko gets the ruse perfectly, but the Avatar doesn’t. “We can’t just kill a prisoner, Sokka!”

“Aang.” Boomerang Boy sighs, looks from the Avatar to Zuko, sees him watching. “Never mind.” His gaze becomes cold, those blue eyes hardening into slits. “No firebending or you will regret it. Understood?”

Zuko wants to argue, he can’t just not firebend, he’s not that good—the flames will break free when he loses his temper, and he will lose his temper eventually, especially if they don’t let him meditate properly, with a flame. But Boomerang Boy won’t understand, none of the children will, they’ll think he’s threatening them if he doesn’t accept the rules. So he just nods.

“Good.” Boomerang Boy smirks. “So glad we have an agreement.”

Chapter Text

“Hello?”

Sokka turns over in his bedroll, trying to huddle in deeper.

“Water Tribe sava—I mean, Water Tribe siblings? Avatar? Rock, uh, Rock ... Lady?”

“’M sleeping,” Sokka mumbles, but the voice keeps on talking, chasing the dream about a white-haired girl from his brain.

“Anyone? Anyone there?”

Pulling the bedroll over his face, Sokka calls back, “No.”

“Did someone say no?”

Sokka sighs, giving up. “What is it?”

“I—can you come? Just for a moment?”

He is close to saying no again, but he guesses the jerkbender won’t let him sleep until he gets whatever he wants, and there’s no one else he can delegate the job to—the others are sleeping deeper inside the temple, and he is stuck here on babysitting duty, because they drew lots and he lost. Mumbling a barrage of insults, he peels out of his bedroll and staggers to the prison cell. Just before rounding the cell corner into the prince’s line of sight, he remembers their prisoner is a firebender, and dangerous, and potentially up to something. Sokka stops in his tracks, glad he has thought of that while there’s still a solid wall of rock between the prisoner and him. “What do you want?”

“I, uh …” The voice hesitates. “I need to pee.”

“So? I’m not letting you out of there.” Because he can’t, at least not without waking up Toph.

“No need. There’s a hole in the ground that leads down into the canyon.”

Toph has apparently thought this through. “Then what’s your problem? Do you need someone to pat your royal head, sing to your royal ears?”

“… My hands are still tied behind my back.”

“Oh. Uh …” Sokka frowns. He has completely forgotten about that. It can’t hurt to take off the rope now that the prisoner is in a cell, right? He really doesn’t want to think about other possible solutions to the problem. He steps around the corner so he can see the prince through the bars. The light is bad, it’s still night, but he can make out the prince’s pale face less than an arm’s length from his own, the scar a dark blotch around his eye. “Okay. Turn around.”

The prince obeys. Sokka sticks his arms through the bars, fumbling until he finds the rope. It’s still wet, and tight, much tighter than it was when he made those knots while the rope was dry.

“Ugh, that’s … tight.”

The prince doesn’t reply.

It takes Sokka ages to untie the knots. When he finally removes the rope, his fingers accidentally brush over one of the prince’s wrists. Sokka flinches back. “Whoa, that’s … that’s a deep imprint the rope has left.”

“Happy?” the jerkbender snaps, turning back around to face him.

“What? No!” Sokka stares at the prince’s wrists, protectively pressed against their owner’s chest. Even in the darkness, the lines are visible. “Did it hurt? … Does it still hurt?”

The prince starts massaging his wrists, wincing at the touch, hands oddly stiff. “Why are you pretending to care?”

“I’m not pretending to care, moron. Can you move your fingers? Can you even feel your fingers?”

The prince is silent for a moment. “Not yet,” he says eventually, raising his chin as if daring Sokka to take advantage of that weakness.

Sokka just stares at him in horror. “Why did you just endure this for hours? Why haven’t you burned through it by now?”

“You said I’m not allowed to bend.”

“I mean, yes, but I didn’t expect you to … Why didn’t you say anything?”

The prince looks at him for a long, long moment. “I thought you’d intended to hurt me.”

Something in Sokka’s stomach suddenly feels far too heavy. “Are you nuts? Of course I haven’t! I’m not a monster, I’m not like you—” He cuts himself off. Has the jerkbender ever hurt a prisoner? Aang hasn’t mentioned anything, and Katara hasn’t either. The prince tied them up, sure, but he didn’t deliberately hurt them, did he? … Why didn’t he? Anyway, it’s Prince Zuko of the Fire Nation, surely he’s had ample supply of prisoners throughout his life.

“No, you’re not,” the prince replies quietly.

The tone of voice makes Sokka feel guilty even though the words confirm his suspicion. Well, what did Gran Gran once say after Sokka told her how he was going to kill his enemies? ‘If you want to be better than your enemies, you have to be better than your enemies.’ Back then, he thought she was referring to fighting techniques, but he isn’t so sure anymore now. “Want me to fetch Katara so she can heal you?”

“She won’t.”

He might be right, but it might still be worth a try. “I don’t know, maybe if I tell her a giant squid-rat attacked you—”

“Just go back to bed and give me some privacy. I wasn’t lying when I said I need to pee.” He sounds so tired that Sokka wonders whether the prince has slept at all. Probably not, with a rope slowly cutting off his hands.

“Okay. Whatever.” Sokka stalks off, reminding himself of all those times the jerkbender tried to capture them, to keep from thinking about the lone teenager barely older than himself suffering in silence in a stone cell, just because someone the likes of Sokka doesn’t know how to fetter people properly and then forgets about having done that altogether.

Zuko wakes to the smell of food and the happy chattering of children. He only needs a blink of an eye to remember where he is, and why. Even without being able to see it, he can feel the sun up in the sky. He hasn’t slept this late in ages. Not really a surprise, though, considering he only fell asleep when the night was nearing its end.

Stretching as far as the small cell allows to loosen his muscles, he assesses the state he’s in: he’s cold, and his stomach is rumbling, his tongue feels like parchment, and the skin on his wrists is still raw, but the feeling is back in his fingers.

There seem to be more than four voices—apparently the group has grown. He’s not sure what to make of that. Has the Avatar called for reinforcements because of Zuko? Or have the additional people been there for some time already?

He can’t hear what the children are saying, though he thinks his name is mentioned a few times. Then there’s loud crunching as if from a rock being crumpled into pieces, and people are laughing, and someone’s even applauding. What in Koh’s name is happening over there? Zuko moves closer to the bars, turns his good ear outward.

“—crazy, Toph—”

“—never thought you could actually—”

“—best earthbender to ever—”

“—can’t believe you ate a stone—”

… What? He tries to listen harder, but the commotion is apparently over and the raised voices quieten down. Well, whatever that was about, it probably didn’t have anything to do with him.

He settles into a corner of his cell to get out of the wind, rubs his arms to warm them up. Agni, it’s as if the rock all around him radiates the cold, and it has settled deep in his bones. At this latitude, the nights are cold even though it gets warm enough during the day. He’s not allowed to firebend, but there are crab-goosebumps all over his body, and none of the children can see him …

Carefully reaching for his inner fire, he takes hold of it and channels the heat to his chest until there’s smoke coming out of his nose and warmth spreading through his limbs.

Footsteps approach.

Zuko freezes for a moment, then frantically waves his arms to disperse the smoke, and stands back from the bars again as far as he can.

The Avatar rounds the corner. “Good morning, Zuko!” He looks far too cheerful for the situation they’re in, and if this were Azula, Zuko would be in real trouble.

“… Morning,” he manages.

“Are you hungry?” The boy lifts a bowl of rice and a cup of water and waves them in front of Zuko’s face.

Before he can reply, the waterbender girl is there, snatching rice and water out of the Avatar’s grasp. “Aang, I told you, you shouldn’t step into his firebending range, he might try to kill you!”

Zuko laughs humorlessly. “Why would I? I’m here to help.”

“I’m not buying your lies anymore,” she says, not leaving Zuko out of her sight for even a moment. “Aang, please. Just let Sokka and me handle him.”

“But he said he wouldn’t—”

“Aang. We can’t risk it. If you die, the whole world will suffer. Do you want that?”

The boy hangs his shoulders. “No.” He glances through the bars. “Bye, Zuko.”

Zuko says nothing, just watches him leave. When he’s gone, the waterbender glares at Zuko through narrowed eyes. He glares back. It seems to be a glaring competition, and he isn’t going to break eye contact first, and isn’t going to break the silence either. If she wants to taunt him, he can bear it. She can take the rice away again, or eat it in front of him, or throw it down into the canyon, and he won’t say a word. He’s not weak.

Instead, she just scowls at him, sets the cup and the bowl down in front of his cell, and leaves. Zuko waits until her footsteps have receded before sticking an arm through the bars and rescuing the food to the relative safety of his cell. The rice is plain and only lukewarm, but he’s too hungry to care. He isn’t sure whether he should keep some of it for later—who knows when they are going to give him his next meal—or whether he should eat all of it now, so they can’t change their minds and make him give it back.

Before he has reached a decision, the footsteps come back, and he stuffs as much rice into his mouth as he can manage.

“Dude,” Boomerang Boy say when he sees him, “you must be really hungry.”

Zuko chokes on the food, and coughs, and downs the whole cup of water trying to dislodge the rice in his windpipe. Oh Agni, he has to look like the fool he is.

When Zuko can finally breathe again, Boomerang Boy is watching him with a serious expression instead of laughing his head off. “How are your hands?” he asks, quietly enough so the rest of the group won’t hear.

Zuko puts the bowl on the floor and crosses his arms to hide his wrists. “I’m fine,” he says, unsure whether this reply will put the boy at ease because he wants Zuko to be fine, or whether it will invite more pain because he doesn’t want Zuko to be fine.

Boomerang Boy extends a hand. “Let me see.”

Zuko doesn’t want him to see. The skin is only superficially raw now, but he refuses to be fussed over by a sort-of-enemy and he also refuses to walk willingly into suffering. So whatever Boomerang Boy’s intentions, Zuko stays where he is, sitting on the floor, leaning against the back wall of his prison, and shakes his head. “I’m fine. There’s nothing to see.”

He’s almost glad there’s no door, because it means Boomerang Boy can’t enter just like Zuko can’t leave.

“Don’t be stupid,” the boy says. “Just let me make sure it’s nothing permanent. Or do you want to have more scars?”

Zuko is on his feet in an instant, hissing, and a torrent of flames leaves his mouth.

Boomerang Boy stumbles back until he hits the temple wall, wide-eyed. 

There is no rule called ‘obey every order or we’ll burn some symmetry onto your face,’ but of course they don’t care about that. Why did he think they’d be fair about the rules? Of course they aren’t. No one ever is. They’ll just make up new ones on the spot and then use that as an excuse to punish him.

Boomerang Boy seems to be turning his fear into anger in a way Zuko is more than familiar with, and snarls. “What’s so hard to understand about no firebending?”

Zuko grits his teeth, trying to suppress more sparks. “I can’t help it! What do you think I’m doing it for, what would it even achieve? Setting myself on fire? Setting my food on fire?” Not that he ever would, really; he’s not that incompetent a bender.

“It was a threat,” Boomerang Boy says, thick-headed as always. “You’re playing head games with me!”

“No I’m not! Do you ever listen? I said I can’t help it!”

“You mean you can’t control it?” He says it exactly like a nonbender who doesn’t have the least bit of understanding for what it means to have your element try to protect you when you’re driven into a corner. When you’re being threatened with more scars. He says it like a nonbender who doesn’t appreciate that his emotions are never displayed for everyone to see, never has steam coming off him when he’s angry, never has candles flare when he’s startled, never has flames erupt when he’s frightened.

“Want me to repeat it again so even your brain understands?” Zuko asks back.

The crease between Boomerang Boy’s brows is becoming almost as pronounced as the Avatar’s arrow tattoo. “You’re even more dangerous than I thought. And you wanted to be Aang’s teacher?”

Shame is burning so hot in Zuko’s gut it’s hard to concentrate, fueling his fury. He takes a step forward. “I don’t see anyone else here qualified for the job. Do you, nonbender?”

Suddenly ice-cold water rams into him with the force of a charging komodo-rhino, he bangs his head on the wall so hard that blackness clouds his vision, momentarily forgetting which way is up and which way is down, and something cold and hard creeps up his legs and torso and arms, and by the time he’s able to blink away the darkness he’s covered in ice up to his neck.

The waterbender girl is there, eyeing him menacingly, and the Avatar joins a moment later.

“What happened?” the Avatar asks, sounding concerned, though Zuko has no doubts the concern isn’t for him.

“He used firebending,” Boomerang Boy says, and he sounds equally self-righteous and … betrayed?

Zuko glares, because if this isn’t a situation that calls for glaring, he doesn’t know what is. “It was an accident. He threatened me and I overreacted.” Just reacted, to be precise, because one cannot possibly overreact when faced with a threat like that.

“I didn’t threaten you,” the lying brat has the audacity to say.

“Oh? I thought I heard you ask if I want more scars.”

There’s a sharp intake of breath from the Avatar. “Sokka?”

“It wasn’t like he makes it sound. I was offering help.”

“How does threatening help?” the Avatar asks.

“It’s not—It’s—Ugh!” Boomerang Boy jabs a finger in Zuko’s direction. “You’re such a jerk! Do whatever you want with your stupid jerk hands, see if I care!” He stomps off.

Zuko’s limbs are going numb from the cold, but he doesn’t struggle against the ice. It’s useless anyway unless he firebends, and he’s sure he would regret firebending if he tried.

The waterbender gives him one of her cold looks to match her bending. “Any more of your accidents,” she says, “and you’ll wish you’d run far from us while you still had the chance.” She withdraws the ice forcefully, and Zuko falls to his hands and knees, panting.

He doesn’t know what hurts more—the pain in his already bruised knees, warmth returning to his fingers and toes, or the disappointed look on the Avatar’s face before he trudges out of sight after the waterbender.

Resting his forehead on the ground, Zuko breathes heavily. Somehow, impossibly, he has managed to add fuel to the fire and messed the situation up even worse than it had been before. With another shuddering breath, he pounds the floor. His fist lands on something cold and sticky. Looking up, he realizes the bowl of rice has toppled over with the waterbender’s attack, and sodden rice grains litter the floor of his cell. His stomach is still rumbling.

He pushes himself back onto his knees, refuses to let the tears burning in his eyes run down his cheeks, and starts picking up the grains of rice one by one. At least, he thinks cynically, he has something to do for the rest of the day.

Chapter Text

The rice doesn’t last as long as Zuko hoped. Soon, he’s back to being bored, and soon afterwards, he’s back to being hungry.

He tries to meditate but his concentration keeps slipping, thoughts spiraling out of control, fear and desperation creeping into his gut and filling the hole in his stomach. Why did he have to breathe fire at Boomerang Boy? Why did he have to ruin it? On further reflection, the boy’s question might not even have been a threat.

But they are never going to believe Zuko now. He has messed up his second chance just like he messed up the first, and the Water Tribe siblings aren’t the forgiving type. He’s useless, he’s a liability, and he’s dangerous. It won’t be surprising if they decide he’s better off with four solid walls, no fresh air, and no more food.

Zuko starts pacing around his prison to shake off the tension. Three and a half steps from the bars to the back wall, five steps from left to right. Soon, he can do it with his eyes closed without running into a wall.

He jerks to a halt when footsteps near, carefully assessing the distance between the bars and himself, making sure he’s out of reach of whoever is coming. It’s a guy Zuko has never seen before: long hair, headband, stupid beard, green clothes, Earth Kingdom style. Must be more or less Zuko’s age.

The guy looks him over from head to toe, making Zuko feel self-conscious about the stains of crushed rice on his knees. “So you’re the Fire Nation Prince? I expected you to be more … regal, I guess.”

Zuko concentrates on his breathing. It’s a trap. They’re trying to get him to lose his temper again so they can punish him some more. “Sorry to disappoint.”

“Hm.” Headband Guy purses his lips. “Do you know who I am?”

“No.”

“I thought so. I languished in one of your prisons, but they don’t bother the royal family with details about who is suffering under their rule, do they?”

Great. So Headband Guy has a personal reason to hate him. Just great. But Zuko won’t rise to the bait. He inhales deeply, exhales slowly, and keeps his voice even. “I don’t own any prisons, and I’ve never ruled.”

Headband Guy sighs. “Get on your knees.”

Zuko freezes. He shouldn’t be surprised, he really shouldn’t, but still. His heart is hammering in his throat, blood rushing in his ears. Does the rest of the group know what Headband Guy is up to? Does the Avatar know? Should Zuko call for them? “If you want to kill me, do it while I’m standing.”

Headband Guy seems taken aback. “Do I want to know how many prisoners you’ve killed for this to be the first thing on your mind?”

Zuko clenches his teeth. “I haven’t killed anyone.”

“Okay then,” Headband Guy says. “Though I might still decide to repeat that question later to find out if you’re telling the truth. Now will you please kneel?”

Please. Why did the guy say please? Something is wrong here. Very, very wrong.

And what did Headband Guy mean, he can find out the truth later? Simply by repeating the question? That doesn’t make any sense.

Zuko watches him for a moment, considers denying, but it’s probably not worth it. It has to be a trap, they’re going to argue he can’t be trusted if he doesn’t do what they tell him, and Headband Guy might go get the waterbender or the earthbender to make him kneel, and if he needs to humiliate Zuko in order to feel better about his own prison experience, well, Zuko can take it. His honor has suffered worse than kneeling in front of some random Earth Kingdom peasant. Kneeling in front of Father, for example.

So he kneels on the hard stone floor, still more than an arm’s length from the bars, and sits back on his heels in perfect seiza. He fixes his gaze straight ahead and tries to strengthen his resolve to endure whatever Headband Guy is going to do.

“Put your left hand on the ground,” the guy orders.

Zuko frowns, and obeys, and waits.

There’s an intake of breath before Headband Guy stomps his foot on the floor.

Earthbender, Zuko’s brain registers at the same time the ground rises to swallow his left hand and stone grows over his thighs. His right hand curls into a fist, heat prickling under his skin, ready to fuel flames to throw into his attacker’s face and—

Zuko inhales, and exhales, and forces his fist to open. Without flames. He looks up at Headband Guy. “Could’ve given me a warning.”

“The others said you’re dangerous, and not to take any chances.”

“I’m dangerous when you startle me.” Which the others very well know. Which they have probably told Headband Guy. Which he then used against Zuko deliberately, because this has to be a trap. There’s no other reason someone who spent any amount of time in a Fire Nation prison would say please to the prince of said nation.

“I’ll try to remember,” Headband Guy says. “Even though in my experience, firebenders are always dangerous.” He looks off in direction of the canyon. “They broke my people, you know? They broke all of our benders. They broke my father.”

Zuko can’t help but wonder what that breaking entailed, even though he doesn’t want to know. “I’m sorry that happened to you.”

“Are you?” Headband Guy looks back at Zuko. “I might ask you to repeat that later, as well.”

“I’m not lying!” Now that Zuko thinks about it, Headband Guy was probably involved in that prison break the waterbender girl instigated. He’s suddenly immensely grateful those people got out of there.

“We’ll see. Now put your right arm in front of your face, so you’re breathing into your elbow. Good. I’m gonna earthbend now.”

Zuko is glad for the forewarning, making sure not to overreact at the stomping and the rock rising around him, securing his right arm in place and covering his hand with rock. He tries to lift his head, but there’s rock pressing into his skull too. He can’t move a finger’s breadth in any direction.

Headband Guy considers him for a moment, and Zuko’s heart is galloping in his chest like it wants to flee from his body, he is all too aware that he’s unable to move and unable to firebend and Headband Guy can easily enter his cell and make Zuko suffer for whatever cruelties the Fire Nation prison guards inflicted on him—

“Finished,” Headband Guy shouts. “I’ve got him secured. You can come over.”

Oh. Does that mean this isn’t about personal revenge?

The first to arrive is Boomerang Boy, carrying the earthbender girl in his arms. He assesses Zuko through the bars. “Hmm … Both hands entombed: check. Feet not pointing in our direction: check. Unable to breathe fire without burning himself: check. Should be safe. Thanks, Haru.” He sets the girl down on the ground and she sits with her palms flat on the floor and her legs stretched out in front of her, allowing Zuko to see exactly how badly burned the soles of her feet are. His stomach twists, and he looks away.

His gaze settles on the Avatar, who looks at him with pity in his eyes, which Zuko doesn’t want to see either. He’s almost glad when the waterbender arrives, a smug half-smile on her lips. At least she’s predictable, and he’s used to dealing with smug girls.

“Comfortable, Zuko?” she asks, her voice as sweet as Azula’s.

“Immensely.”

For some reason, she turns to the earthbender girl. “Toph?”

“If you can’t figure out that this was a lie, you need to work on identifying sarcasm.”

There are two more people: a teenager in a wooden contraption with wheels, and—a kid? A real kid, younger even than the Avatar. The kid has a stick, which it promptly uses to poke Zuko in the gut. “Take that, evil ashmaker, and that, and that!”

The stick doesn’t have a sharpened tip, but it’s pointy enough. “Ow.”

“Ha! Take that! Surrender!”

Zuko looks at the others for help, but nobody’s helping. “I, uh, surrender?” he offers.

“Surrender not accepted!” yells the kid. “Take that!”

“Ow! Someone take the kid off me, dammit!”

The boy with the wheels picks up the kid and places it on his lap.

“Thanks, Teo,” Boomerang Boy says before turning back to Zuko. “If you don’t answer our questions, or if you lie, The Duke will inflict further punishment. Understood?”

Zuko frowns. “The Duke?”

“That’s me!” replies the kid, looking proud.

… Right. This group is getting crazier and crazier.

Boomerang Boy passes an empty scroll, ink and brush to Headband Guy. “Haru, you’re taking notes. Okay, let’s begin.”

Silence.

“Begin, uh, what?” Zuko asks.

“A friendly talk. At least friendly for now. Also known as: an interrogation.”

An interrogation, right. Makes sense. Maybe they will actually listen, this time, and he’ll be able to convince them of his loyalty.

… If he doesn’t mess it up again. And if they don’t think he’s lying just because he’s the Fire Nation prince. Otherwise, this could easily get more uncomfortable than it already is. A memory flashes to his mind, unbidden, unwelcome, of that one time Father took him to the Prison Tower to teach him how to interrogate people. He can still hear the screams reverberating in his skull. He breathes deeply, trying to steady his nerves. He’s not afraid. Nope, not afraid.

“So,” Boomerang Boy says, sitting down on the ground. “Question number one: what’s your name?”

Zuko stares. This is … This … What?! “You don’t know my name?”

“Of course I know your name.”

“Then why do you ask?”

“It’s for the record.” Boomerang Boy motions to the brush in Headband Guy’s hand as if that explained anything.

Zuko continues staring. He doesn’t know what they’re playing at, but this is certainly not an interrogation. “Um, not to be mean, but have you ever done something like this before?”

Boomerang Boy narrows his eyes to slits. “Duke.”

“The Duke,” the kid says, jumping off the Wheel Boy’s lap and poking Zuko with the stick again.

“Ow!”

Boomerang Boy crosses his arms. “That’s what you get for undermining my authority. Do you know what this is?”

“This?” Zuko asks.

“It’s an interrogation.”

It’s not really, but he can’t just say that. “… I’m aware.”

“Do you know how interrogations work?”

“Yes?” Better than Boomerang Boy, certainly.

“Tell me.”

“Uh, you ask questions; I answer them; if you think I’m lying, you’ll torture me until I tell you what you want to hear?”

“Exactly. It does not include you asking questions, and me answering them. Understood?”

Zuko still stares. “Then why have you answered almost every question I’ve asked so far?”

“I said I ask the questions!”

“Ow! Someone take that stick away from the kid!” This time, the kid’s poke was close to Zuko’s solar plexus. Okay, perhaps this weird conversation is not that far from an interrogation, after all.

Boomerang Boy shakes his head. “Only if you answer my questions. So, back to the first question. Zuko, what’s your name?”

Zuko would bury his face in his hands if he could. What is wrong with Boomerang Boy? “… Zuko?” This is ridiculous.

“Why are you sounding so unsure about that, huh?”

“Because you’re …” He catches himself before saying something poke-inducing. Insulting them will not help his case, so he needs to rein in his temper for once. “I wasn’t sure if it’s what you want to hear.”

Boomerang Boy considers this for a moment, index finger tapping his chin. “Alright. Second question: why are you here?”

“Um. Because the Rock Lady pushed me here and built a prison around me?”

“Ha-ha. You know that’s not what I meant. Stick!”

“Ow! Kid, that hurts! Stop it!”

“Don’t listen to him,” Boomerang Boy says. “So, Zuko-who-is-possibly-lying-about-being-called-Zuko—”

“You know I’m not lying!” Zuko shouts. So much for keeping his temper.

“Don’t interrupt the interrogator. Why did you come to the temple?”

This interrogation is a farce. If it keeps going on like this, he’ll be spitting smoke before long, and then the waterbender will douse him with ice water, she already has her waterskin open and her eyes narrowed, and Rock Lady is looking amused and the kid is raising the stick and Boomerang Boy must have forgotten his brain somewhere because how can anyone be this weird, and Zuko has already told them he’s here to help, how is repeating it going to—

Ice-cold water hits him in the face, stinging on his skin and getting into his nose, making him cough.

“Answer the question!” the waterbender says, a threat of more violence in her eyes.

“I have already told you! I’ve come—I’ve come to join the Avatar, I’ve come to teach him firebending, I’ve changed, I’m not here to hurt you!” His clothes are sticking to his skin, and a shiver runs down his spine.

Everyone’s looking at Rock Lady. “What?” she says. “Are you all looking at me? I already told you that everything he said when he first turned up here was the truth.”

That’s already the third time someone has mentioned something about detecting the truth, and Zuko can’t write it off as intimidation tactics anymore.

“You’re able to tell whether I’m lying?” That would be good for him, wouldn’t it? She could tell the others that he’s really on their side now.

Rock Lady grins. “Yep. I am the world’s best earthbender, after all.”

“Uh … What does earthbending have to do with it?”

“Everything, Sparky. I can feel your heartbeat through the stone, and your breathing.” She pats the ground with her palm. “And people who lie exhibit very specific patterns. So don’t bother trying to lie. Oh, and Haru? He was terrified of you. I could sense it from the other end of the balcony.”

Zuko feels the heat rise to his cheeks and is grateful that half his face is hidden behind his arm. But of course Rock Lady can feel the embarrassment running through his veins, no matter how well he hides it on the outside she’ll know, his heart is beating in a betraying gallop. Not even Azula has ever managed to invade his privacy this thoroughly, and not for lack of trying.

Headband Guy looks at Zuko, frowning, before lowering his gaze to the floor. “For some reason, that doesn’t feel very satisfying.”

Boomerang Boy pats Headband Guy’s leg. “That’s because you’re a good guy. Like me. I’ve long given up on trying to terrify people.”

“But only because you’re not very terrifying,” Rock Lady says.

Everyone laughs. Zuko doesn’t join in, because he’s not feeling like getting poked.

“Hey, I am very terrifying if I want to be!” Boomerang Boy says. “Jerkbender, third question: who’s the most terrifying of the group?”

“Uh …” There goes his chance to get out of this without being poked. “You?”

“Lie,” Rock Lady says.

“Ow.” Zuko sags—as much as the restraints let him, anyway. “If you knew it was the truth when I said I’m here to help you, why didn’t you let me join?”

The Water Tribe siblings exchange a glance. “Prior experience,” Boomerang Boy says. “You could be as good a liar as your little sister is. Toph’s magic didn’t work on her.”

“It’s not magic,” the waterbender says, exasperated. Zuko wonders how often they’ve had this conversation already.

“I’m really not a good liar. Far worse than Azula.” Everyone knows that, right? Azula has made fun of him for his terrible attempts at lying so often that Zuko could recite her words from heart.

“That’s exactly what you’d say if you were a good liar,” the waterbender replies. “Besides, even if we knew for sure that you think you are on our side, well …” She looks at him like she wants to impale him with an icicle. “You and I both know how quickly you can revert to your old ways.”

Zuko closes his eyes for a moment, mentally kicking himself. Why did he have to be so stupid back in the Crystal Catacombs of Ba Sing Se? “I have changed for real, this time. There’s no turning back.”

“Yeah, sure,” she says, sarcasm heavy in her voice. “Sokka, go on with the next question, I can’t listen to this worm-rat’s pathetic whining anymore.”

Zuko suppresses a sigh. He can’t believe they have a literal truth reader right here, and he’s telling the truth, and they still manage to turn that against him. This is hopeless.

“One moment.” Boomerang Boy furrows his brow in concentration, looking off into nothing as if trying to read something written in the air. “Okay, fourth question: why did you want to be our prisoner?”

Everyone is looking at Zuko expectantly, and he doesn’t know what to say. ‘Because I didn’t think before speaking’ doesn’t seem to be a good answer. He has to say something, though, because they’re waiting, and this is the first non-stupid question out of Boomerang Boy’s mouth, and he has to convince them of his innocence because otherwise—

“Is it so that you can spy on us?” the Avatar asks.

“No.”

“Are you planning on launching a surprise attack?” the waterbender inquires.

“No! You guys are paranoid.”

Boomerang Boy crosses his arms. “Paranoid as in ‘expecting to be persecuted by people who want to harm us’? Oh, wait, maybe that’s because we were persecuted by someone who wants to harm us.”

“I don’t want to harm you anymore.”

“Sorry not sorry, we’re not gonna take the chance. Now answer the question.”

Zuko inhales, and exhales. Losing his temper will not help.

“Did you think we’d change our minds and let you join eventually?” Rock Lady suggests.

“I … no, I mean—maybe, I don’t know? Does it matter? It’s obviously not working.”

“Then why,” repeats Boomerang Boy, “did you want to be our prisoner?”

“Because I have nowhere else to go!” Zuko shouts. “I committed treason, I told Fath—the Fire Lord that I’m going to join the Avatar, I turned my back on my nation—and then you didn’t want me, no one ever wants me, but I can’t go back, the Fire Lord, he will—they’ll execute me, and they won’t make it quick, and I’m sick of hiding in the Earth Kingdom as a refugee, and I’d just get killed at the poles, and Uncle is gone, and he hates me anyway, so I have nowhere left to go.”

Zuko’s heavy breathing is the only sound in the ensuing silence. He should scan their faces, find out if they believe him, but he can’t bring himself to meet anyone’s gaze.

Sokka doesn’t know what to make of the prince’s latest bout of shouting. Sure, it sounded sincere enough, but who knows how good an actor the guy is? Do royal firebenders get theater classes while growing up?

Also the prince is not looking at anyone. Which is a clear sign of lying, because it’s easier to lie to people when you don’t have to look into their eyes.

He’s just trying to cause them to take pity on him, and then he’ll use their compassion against them, like he did in the morning, with the sudden fire attack when Sokka let down his guard. Katara was right; the prince can’t ever be trusted.

Aang nervously steps from one foot to the other. “Toph?”

A slight hesitation. “I think that was the truth.”

The jerkbender lets out a relieved sigh.

Sokka, on the other hand, frowns. Because something about that statement is wrong. “Wait, what do you mean, you think?”

“What I just said, pinhead. I mean that I think it was the truth.”

“But you don’t know?” Katara asks. “You’re not sure?”

Toph scowls. “Look, Sugar Queen, I’ve perfected seeing with my feet, but my feet happen to be indisposed thanks to our shouty little prisoner here.”

“I’m sorry,” the jerkbender says.

Sokka nods at Toph’s palms that are pressed against the ground. “You’ve still got hands, though.”

“Congratulations on that breathtaking observation, detective.”

“I’m just saying …”

“Yes, I can earthbend with my hands, and yes, I can see a little with my hands, too, and yes, when I want to be entirely sure if someone is lying, I’ll use both my feet and my hands to make sure I’m not missing anything. But no, the finer subtleties are lost on me as long as the soles of my feet are literally peeling off.”

“I’m sorry,” the jerkbender repeats.

Katara enters a waterbender stance. “You did this on purpose!”

“I did not! I swear, it was an accident, I didn’t—”

Sokka knows his sister well, so he’s not surprised when she bends another puddle of water right into the prince’s face.

The prince coughs worse than the first time. “I didn’t even—” he starts, then coughs again. His hair is plastered to his forehead and hanging into his eyes. “I didn’t even know she could truth-read with her feet until your interrogation started!”

“Toph, is that true?” Katara asks.

“Lost your ears? I don’t know!”

“But you knew he was lying when he said Sokka’s terrifying.”

“Oh, come on, that was obvious.”

Sokka huffs. “Rude.”

“Haru,” Aang says, “can you do it?”

Haru shakes his head. “I wouldn’t know where to start. I don’t know how to—how to see with earthbending.”

Toph looks pleased with herself, and Katara looks furious, and Aang sits down on the ground and rests his head in his hands. “Then what are we supposed to do?” he asks.

“Hmmm.” Sokka taps his chin, watching the prince who is watching him back. The jerkbender is shivering violently, probably from the cold, drenched as he is. No, that can’t be the reason, he must be shivering from fear, because Sokka is terrifying, and jerkbenders don’t ever feel cold. “We’ll just have to do this the old way.”

“The old way?” Teo asks.

“We’ll rely on observation and on knowledge of human nature to determine whether he’s lying.”

“Oh, great,” Katara says. “Let me guess, you’re to be the judge of that, superdetective?”

Sokka grins. “Exactly. And if he starts lying …”

“I’m not,” the prince says, gaze fixed on Sokka, “and I haven’t, and I won’t. You can torture me all you want, but—Ow, dammit, take that kid away!”

Katara snickers. “No, we won’t, Prince You-Can-Torture-Me-All-You-Want.”

“I think,” Aang says, then looks at Katara, blushes, averts his eyes, looks back at the prince and seems to find new resolve, “I think we should be a bit nicer to him? Maybe?”

“What?” Katara and the prince ask almost at the same time.

“It’s just, you know …” Aang scratches the back of his head. “I know it’s not very nice when you’re taken prisoner and your captors are so …” He makes a vague gesture with his arms. “Mean.”

Katara snorts. “He was always mean when he had the upper hand.”

“And also when he didn’t have the upper hand,” Sokka adds. “Which was most of the time.”

“I know,” Aang says. “But revenge won’t make it unhappen. We’re imprisoning him so he can’t hurt anyone, and not to make him suffer.”

Sokka deflates. Stupid Air Nomad kid with his stupid monk philosophy. The prince spat fire at him, and he’s not allowed to take revenge for that? “Can’t we do both?”

“Monk Gyatso always said if you carry a grudge, your baggage is heavy.”

Sokka wonders if that’s why his back always hurts.

Rising to his feet, Aang bends the water out of the prince’s clothes and hair, letting it flow back into Katara’s waterskin, then does a circular motion with his arms, and there’s a gust of warm air.

The prince stares, which seems to be his second favorite facial expression after glaring. “Thank you,” he says quietly. The shivering has stopped. Probably because Sokka has stopped saying terrifying things for the moment, and certainly for no other reason that has anything to do with warmth.

“What?” Sokka snaps. “When Aang tries to be nice to you, he gets a thank you, and when I try to be nice to you, you spit fire at me?”

“It was an accident.”

“Was it?”

“If I’d wanted to attack you, your face would look worse than Toph’s feet.”

The image is dangling in Sokka’s mind now. He narrows his eyes. “Is that a threat?”

“Uh … It wasn’t supposed to be, it was just …” The prince’s face suddenly looks tired. At least the half of his face that Sokka can see. At least the half of the half that is not a giant scar. “Look, I’m bad at talking, but I didn’t mean to breathe fire at you, I didn’t even breathe it at you, the flames were just, just there, and it was an accident.”

“You know what? If that’s true, you have to be the worst firebender in the world.”

The prince sighs. “Azula has been saying the same since she was five.”

“Oh, yeah, your evil little sister.” Sokka considers. Now that the topic is there, he may as well expand on it. “Fifth question: what are her weaknesses?”

“Azula’s? She doesn’t have any.”

Sokka motions at The Duke.

“Ow. I wasn’t lying! She really doesn’t—Ow, stop that—”

Aang steps forward. “Hey, Duke?”

“The Duke!” The Duke replies with another royalty poke from his royalty poking stick. It looks fun doing that, and Sokka is perhaps a tiny bit jealous.

“Ow!” the prince shouts. “I’m not the one who said your name wrong!”

“The Duke,” Aang repeats. “Want to go ride an air scooter with me?”

The Duke’s eyes widen. “Yes!” He drops the stick and runs off with Aang.

The prince, now unpoked, sags in relief. “Thank Agni the kid is gone.”

“Don’t start celebrating yet.” Sokka picks up the stick. No need to be jealous anymore, now. “I can poke just as well.” And get some revenge for being called nonbender like he wasn’t worth anything just because he can’t do some stupid element magic. He’ll show the jerk how terrifying a nonbender can be. He’ll show all of them.

“But …” The prince hesitates. “But the Avatar told you not to be mean.”

“Aang,” Katara says. “The Avatar has a name, and it’s Aang. And Aang isn’t here right now.”

The prince looks up at her, and Sokka is sure there’s a sliver of fear in the prisoner’s gaze. Why is everyone scared of Katara, but not him? This is just unfair.

“And you’ll just,” the prince asks, “go against his orders?”

Sokka raises an eyebrow. “His orders?”

“Isn’t he … Isn’t he the leader of your group?”

Toph snorts. “Our group doesn’t have a leader, Sparky.”

“And if it had one,” Sokka adds, puffing out his chest, “it would be me.”

“No, it wouldn’t,” Katara says, because she’s an insufferable little sister who says insufferable little sisterly things. “And anyway the point is moot because there is no leader. So, Your Royal Highness, I advise you reconsider your reply. My waterskin has just been refilled.”

The prince breathes deeply, fixes his gaze on the ground, and starts talking about his too-perfect sister.

“Seventeenth question: at what time does the Fire Lord go to bed during holidays?”

“Thirty-fourth question: what’s the Dragon of the West’s favorite color?”

“Sixty-fifth question: where on Fire Nation ships is the food stored?”

“One hundredth question: how often does the Fire Lord cut his toenails?—What do you mean, a pig-parrot would ask better questions?—Watch what you say or I’ll get my sword and poke you with that.—My threats are very scary!”

Chapter Text

The interrogation continues, and continues, and keeps on continuing. Zuko answers Boomerang Boy’s ridiculous questions as best as he can, even though the majority don’t even make sense. One by one, the others get bored and leave, until Boomerang Boy has to write the interrogation record himself.

It’s early afternoon by the time Boomerang Boy fetches some food, eating all of it in front of Zuko while asking question after question about Fire Nation dishes until the rumbling of Zuko’s stomach is louder than his answers.

It’s evening by the time Boomerang Boy rolls up his notes and declares the interrogation finished for the day. He leaves, then comes back a short while later to place a cup of water and a bowl on the ground, a bowl of steaming hot soup smelling deliciously of ginger and onion.

Zuko, still half-entombed and unable to move, wrenches his gaze away and looks up into Boomerang Boy’s smug face. “And how am I supposed to eat that?” His throat is so dry it hurts to speak, and his voice is raspy.

Boomerang Boy shrugs. “Inhale it?”

“I’ve answered all of your questions. I spent the whole day answering questions. Let me out of the stone.”

“Sorry,” Boomerang Boy says with a grin that tells how not-sorry he is and motions to his chest, “nonbender.”

Zuko groans. He won’t call the Avatar for help, he just won’t. They’ll have to let him eat eventually. He’s not going to beg. “Is there any particular reason you’re being so vile?”

“I’m not being vile. I’m being scary.”

“Uh …” Zuko is out of words. This is the most inaccurate self-assessment he’s ever heard, and he’s had to listen to himself for sixteen years. It’s not easy to beat that. “No, you’re not.”

Boomerang Boy scowls. “Hasn’t my interrogation taught you not to lie?”

As if that stupid interrogation had taught anyone anything useful, apart from the fact that Boomerang Boy might be crazy and weird, but not in a scary way, more in a laughing-stock-of-the-group way. But if Zuko says that, the laughing stock is not going to let him eat for who knows how long. So he breathes deeply, trying his best to remain calm. “I’m not lying. Sorry to disappoint your hopes, but you’re just being mean.”

“Mean prison guards are scary prison guards.”

“That’s not the same thing,” Zuko says. Because it’s not. He’d know, having seen the ones in the Fire Nation’s Prison Tower.

“It’s not?”

“No.”

“You sure?”

“Very. There’s an overlap, absolutely, but it’s not the same thing, and you’re on the mean-but-not-scary side.”

Boomerang Boy slumps on the ground, moaning. “Then what am I doing wrong?”

“Nothing.” Zuko can’t believe he’s consoling the guy who’s been tormenting him the entire day, but apparently that’s what he’s doing. “There’s nothing wrong with not being scary.” Mother was never scary, after all.

“Easy for you to say. You’re scary.”

“Azula always said I’m the world’s tamest turtle-duck.”

… He shouldn’t have shared that with an enemy. His cheeks are warming in shame.

“Are you kidding me? You’re terrifying! With your firebending and your scar and your glares and your yelling. Only the stupid ponytail ruined the image somewhat, but now even that’s gone.”

Zuko is not sure whether Boomerang Boy is making fun of him, or whether he should feel flattered, and whether he even still wants to be scary. “You really think so?”

“Of course. What did you think why I’m not coming near you anymore unless you’re kneeling on the ground with your hands covered in rock?”

Zuko would have thought it’s obvious. “Because you like seeing me like this?”

“Because you’re scary, man. You could’ve burned my face off in the morning!”

“Yeah, I could have.” Too late, Zuko realizes that that may have sounded like a threat. Again. Why does he have to be so stupid? “I mean, I wouldn’t. I won’t. I’m here to help.”

“Yeah, well, I’m still not sure whether to believe that.” Boomerang Boy picks up a pebble and throws it into the direction of the canyon. “And I seem to be unable to scare you into telling the truth.”

“I am telling the truth.”

“You’re just proving my point.”

This is one of the weirdest conversations Zuko has ever had, so he may as well go ahead and make it even weirder. “Look, I may not know much about what it’s like to be a good guy because I’ve only recently started trying it and apparently, I’m not any good at it—and, and anyway, I was never good at being a bad guy either—I mean, of course I did horrible, unforgivable things—and I don’t expect you to forgive me, I know I just said it was unforgivable—but I’m hoping you might come to the conclusion that I can still be useful—if, well, I guess it’s stupid to think you’ll give me another chance after all the mistakes I’ve made, I couldn’t even do the wrong things the right way, I’m just not good at anything—”

“You’re a bit of a self-critic, huh?”

Oh Agni, he’s trying to give a compliment and the only person he’s talking about is himself. He can’t even do this much right. “Anyway, what I’m trying to say is—and don’t get me wrong, I’m not trying to—”

Boomerang Boy holds up a hand to silence Zuko. “Man, just come to the point.”

“Yeah. Um. The point is … I do know what it’s like to have a little sister who’s a bending prodigy and better than you at literally everything—”

“Katara’s not better than me at everything.”

“… Of course not.” Agni, what was he thinking, raising the subject? He’s a trampling komodo-rhino when making conversation, and he’s on thin ice here. Thin ice is never a good place to be if you’re a firebender. Or a komodo-rhino. “I just meant … It must be hard to be a nonbender surrounded by the Avatar and the world’s best earthbender and, well, Katara … But you have other qualities.”

“I do?”

“Sure.”

“Which ones?”

Zuko hesitates. Thin, thin ice. “Uh … You can be very mean?”

“Oh, great,” Boomerang Boy says darkly. It was very obviously not the right thing to say.

“And, uh, you’re really good at confusing your enemies. Which is, you know. Pretty impressive. Lots of people can withstand scary interrogations, but not many can withstand confusing interrogations.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

“Thanks.” Boomerang Boy—Sokka, says a voice in his head that sounds like the waterbender’s, he has a name and it’s Sokka—is silent for a moment. Then his eyes narrow. “And you’re not just saying this so I’ll let you eat?”

“Um …” Damn it. To lie or not to lie? “Partly?”

Sokka scowls, and gets up, and walks away.

“Wait!” Zuko calls. “I didn’t mean it like that! Come back!”

But there’s no reply, and no one coming back. Zuko struggles against his fetters, which achieves exactly nothing, and stares the soup down as if it was the soup’s fault that he’s still hungry. Why does he always have to say the wrong thing?

He has just resolved to close his eyes so he won’t have to see the food, at least, wishing he could also close his nose, when Sokka does come back, carrying the Rock Lady. He sets her down on the ground, then hovers over her, avoiding looking into Zuko’s direction.

“Sokka,” she says, “stop looking at me like that.”

Sokka frowns. “Like what?—Hey, you don’t even know what I’m looking at you like!”

That has Rock Lady snickering. “You fall for it every single time!”

Sokka shoots a look at Zuko as if daring him to laugh. Zuko is glad his mouth is still hidden behind his arm. “Now let the jerkbender out of the stones so I can take you back.”

“Nah,” she says. “I want to talk to him.”

“To Zuko?”

“Of course to Zuko, or do you see anyone else? Because I don’t.”

Sokka rolls his eyes.

“Stop rolling your eyes,” Rock Lady says.

“How do you—Never mind. Have fun talking to the jerk.”

Rock Lady waits until Sokka is out of earshot before raising a slab of stone to lay her feet on and a second one to lean her back against. “Sparky,” she says, palms flat on the floor.

Immediately, Zuko is aware of his heart rate, and his breathing, and feeling stupidly self-conscious. “Rock Lady.” If she gives him a dumb nickname, he might as well give one back.

She smiles.

With a tiny twist of her hand the rock keeping him in place is rushing down into the ground, and a blink of an eye later there’s nothing left but smooth stone floor, and he can finally move. He rubs his arms and scratches his head and stretches his back and stands up and falls right back down again because damn it, he can’t feel his legs. Every part of his body that he can feel aches from sitting in the same position for so long. He rolls onto his back, stares up at the stone ceiling of his prison cell, and groans.

“You sound like a dying cat-rat,” Rock Lady says.

“I feel like a dying cat-rat.” Now there’s a prickling in his legs, followed by the worst pins and needles he has ever experienced. He groans again.

“Are you finished now?” she asks. “Or shall I call over Sokka so he can see you like this?”

“I’d prefer no one to see me like this.”

“Then stop behaving like a wimp.”

Zuko sits up, his cheeks warming. Why has he let her witness his weakness like that? She has her own way of seeing him, after all, even if she’s blind. “Sorry.” He remembers the food and scrambles closer to the bars to pick it up. The water is delicious, caressing his sore throat like Mai’s fingers when she kissed him, and the soup is still warm and full of vegetables.

Rock Lady lets him eat in silence, only speaking up once he’s finished. “Better?”

“… Yeah.” Zuko wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, puts the empty bowl down and stretches his legs. They’re back to normal now. “Thanks, Toph.”

“Don’t get used to it. I won’t always save you from Haru’s and Sokka’s wrath.”

“I—“ He doesn’t know what to say. “Okay.” His legs want to move so he gets up and walks back and forth in his cell. “What about—you know, your own wrath? For the burned feet?”

“I’ll get back at you for that, don’t worry.” She grins, but it’s not a malicious grin like Azula would showcase, instead it almost looks … amused?

Zuko is not sure what to make of that. The combination of the not-malicious-enough grin and the direct-enough threat is creepy, and his hairs stand on end. “I’m—And I don’t say this so that you’ll forgive me, I don’t expect you to, and it’s well within your rights to exact revenge, and within your abilities anyway, and—”

“Just spit it out, Sparky.”

“Alright.” He inhales. “I am sorry I burned your feet. It was an accident, but I’m aware that doesn’t help, and I’m sorry. I know how much burn wounds hurt.”

“Do you?”

“… Yes.” He paces faster, which unfortunately doesn’t help with running from this conversation.

Toph blows a strand of hair out of her face. “For crying out loud, sit down.”

The order is not a surprise, Zuko has been expecting it ever since finishing his soup, so he doesn’t even think about trying to resist. Sitting down cross-legged on the floor, he places his hands on the ground and waits, hoping she’ll accept him sitting in a new position, because the pure thought of getting back onto his knees makes his legs ache.

Nothing happens.

“Um,” he says when the silence has stretched too long, “I’m sitting.” Because she is, after all, blind.

“I’m blind, not stupid,” she says.

“I didn’t say you’re stupid.”

“I’m blind, not deaf.”

Agni, he has no idea how to interact with this girl. Silence. “Aren’t you going to immobilize me?”

She raises her eyebrows. “No.”

Zuko blinks in surprise. “But … Aren’t you afraid that I’ll burn you? Again, I mean?”

Toph snorts and puts one of her arms behind her head, facing some point above Zuko. “I’d love to see you try, Sparky. Might be the last time you’d ever use your hands, though.”

“Um.” Zuko can’t help but think of those Earth Kingdom soldiers who tried to crush Uncle’s hands. He makes a mental note to never ever ever firebend near Toph again. “Fair. Then why did you want me to sit?”

“Because your pacing was annoying.”

“… Sorry.”

Now it’s Toph who groans. “You’re the worst prince I’ve ever met.”

“How many have you met?”

“That’s beside the point.”

Which Zuko takes to mean only you, but he’s not stupid enough to argue. Earthbenders are singularly stubborn. “So … What did you want to talk to me about?”

She shrugs. “Oh, I was just wondering.”

“About?”

“What did Sokka mean when he did or maybe didn’t threaten you with ‘more scars’?”

Zuko can hear the blood rushing in his ears, and he’s sure Toph can feel it too. Until now he has never thought about what it means that she’s blind, and that she’s the first person he’s ever met who doesn’t know—

“Touchy subject?” she asks.

Zuko breathes deeply—and she’ll know he just did that, and his No gets stuck on his tongue. It would have been such an obvious lie that she might have called him out on it, anyway.

“Yeah,” he says. She is silent, so he feels he has to say something more. “I already have a scar.”

Well, now it’s out. Now even the blind girl knows. Zuko’s stomach is in knots. How can he grieve a lost opportunity so much when he wasn’t even aware of it a moment ago?

He expects all sorts of replies, but he doesn’t expect the one he gets.

“I have one too.”

“What?”

“A scar, Sparky. Do keep up.”

“Ooo-kay?” he says, stretching the word.

She pulls up her left sleeve and shows him a tiny scar on her shoulder, thin as a noodle and half his pinky finger in length. “I got this when I was five. Ran away from my tutor and climbed up a tree because I’d heard children who aren’t blind do that all the time. But then I got bored when they didn’t find me, and wanted to go back down, and I was pretty sure I remembered where the next lower branch was. Turned out it was a hand’s breadth to the left.” She shrugs. “So I got this. Cool, heh?”

There must be words appropriate for a situation like this, but Zuko doesn’t know what they are. “Cool,” he says.

Toph cocks her head. “Are you lying?”

“Was it that obvious?”

“Yeah.” She sighs. “I know the story is a bit lame,” she continues, completely misinterpreting his lack of enthusiasm. “There’s not even any fighting involved, unless you count fighting against gravity. I bet your scar’s story is way better.”

Zuko’s chest feels too tight to breathe. At least she’s pulling down her sleeve right now, so she can’t see.

“Anyway,” Toph says, “I’ve never shown this to anyone. Consider yourself lucky.” Some part of Zuko’s brain registers that she’s trying to be nice, opening up to him like that—why is she trying to be nice?—but the other part of his brain is still panicking.

“Thanks,” he says. Maybe Toph is not aware that lots of people have scars like hers, stories like hers. He himself has dozens of them all over his body, from small burns and cuts during training and—and Father being angry with him for some reason or other. Nobody ever mentions those, though, for evident reasons.

“How does Sokka know you have a scar?” she asks.

Zuko thought that would be obvious by now, but of course it’s not obvious for her. “Um. It’s kind of visible.”

“Oh?”

His breathing is audible even to his own ears. “… It’s on my face.”

“Oh.”

He doesn’t know why, maybe it’s because Sokka’s endless interrogation has overcome any reserve in offering up information, but for some reason, he continues talking. “Around my left eye, from forehead to cheek, nose to ear. Dark red.”

“That’s … huge,” she says.

“… Yeah.”

“I see.”

Zuko isn’t sure whether that’s supposed to be a pun, but he doesn’t feel like laughing anyway.

“I already guessed you weren’t lying when you said you know what burn wounds feel like.”

His inhale gets stuck halfway through his throat. “I wasn’t.” He’s not surprised she’s figured it out.

“How’d you get that wound?”

It’s too much, she’s too close and the cell is too small and his chest is too tight and he can’t keep sitting here and he can’t breathe, he’s on his feet and turning his back to her so she can’t see his face but of course she couldn’t anyway but she can feel everything and maybe she can feel Father’s hand pressing against his face and feel it light up and feel the heat—

“Zuko. Zuko, calm down. Hey. You with me?”

He nods, but of course she can’t see that, so he manages to croak a yes, and then exhales slowly, and inhales slowly, and exhales slowly again so that the dizziness fades at least a little.

“Okay. I feel like I shouldn’t have asked that.” Silence. “You okay?”

“… Yes.”

“Want to be alone?”

“Yes.”

“Okay. I’m going.” There’s a shuffling sound, she must be crawling away on her hands and knees, and he’s feeling bad for her, and bad for himself, and just generally, awfully bad.

Father was wrong to give him that scar, Zuko knows that now, but the knowing doesn’t help with the shame bubbling in his throat and threatening to spill over from his eyes, the feeling is now worse than ever because the shame Father made him feel for his cowardice in the Agni Kai is still right there, only now there’s also the added humiliation of having bought Father’s lie for years, how can he have believed that he deserved it, how can he have let Father ruin his life like that, how can he have let someone do this to him and still have been on their side? How can anyone be this stupid?

“—no, Katara, let him—”

Zuko jerks around in time to see the waterbender arrive, brows furrowed in a furious glare, and he backs away until he bumps into the wall, the rock feeling rough beneath his fingers, jagged edges digging into his back, and there’s already water flying at him and he flinches and then his forearms are frozen to the wall.

“What,” she says, “did you do to Toph?”

“Nothing!”

“She fled from you on her hands and knees instead of calling for someone to pick her up, and she said you’ve freaked out, and she looked all anxious, so think again before telling me you did nothing.”

Zuko’s brain is empty and he feels sick and it’s hard to breathe again and why do these situations keep happening? It’s weak to call for help and he knows it, but he can’t deal with the waterbender right now and there’s no other solution—

“Toph?” he shouts.

“Don’t bother,” the waterbender says. “Sokka is taking her to the fountain to cool her feet. We’re not letting you hurt her again.”

“I didn’t—I mean I did, I hurt her, but not right now, and it was an accident back then, and I won’t do it again, why won’t you ever listen—”

“Because,” she says, stepping as close as the bars let her, “I’ve listened to you before, and believed you, and then you helped kill Aang.”

“I know.” Zuko concentrates on his breathing, trying to get it back under control. Inhale, exhale. Just like Uncle showed him. Inhale, exhale. Like meditating. Inhale, exhale. “And I’d understand if he … if he wanted to kill me, like, in return.” Inhale, exhale. “But he doesn’t … seem to want to?” Inhale, exhale. “And I’ll never willingly hurt him again.” Inhale. “Or any of you.” Exhale. “Not your brother, and not you.” Inhale. “And certainly not Toph.” Exhale.

“Then what did you do?”

“We talked.” The breathing is getting easier, and Zuko can focus on getting his thoughts in order. “She raised a … sort of sensitive subject. I—I may have freaked out a little—but I didn’t do anything, I didn’t firebend and I didn’t hurt her and I didn’t even yell, I just—And, and she asked if I wanted to be alone, and I said yes, so. That’s all.”

The waterbender’s face is half in shadow, but her unnaturally blue eyes have a menacing glint. “And what subject did she raise?”

Zuko looks away. “Ask her.”

“I’m asking you.”

He exhales slowly and deliberately. He doesn’t want to talk about this, and he doesn’t want to talk about it with her, but she’s not going anywhere and he can’t leave and he just wants to be left alone. “My scar,” he says, still not looking at her. “We talked about my scar. Now will you let me do the rest of my freaking out in peace?”

Zuko expects her to push the subject, to ask all the questions he doesn’t want to answer, won’t answer, not right now, not ever, not her.

“Listen, Zuko.” Somehow, she manages to make his name sound like an insult. “You might be able to trick Aang into forgiving you, and maybe Toph too, and maybe one day Sokka. But I know you in a way they don’t, and you can’t fool me. The Fire Nation has taken one family from me already, I won’t let you take another one. One wrong move, one step in the wrong direction, one more accident, and you will find out just how long you can hold your breath underwater before there’s no air left. Is that clear?”

Her eyes are the coldest blue, and he can’t look away again. “Yes.”

“Good,” she says, and leaves.

Zuko sighs in relief. His forearms are still covered in a thick crust of ice, so he just stands there and concentrates on breathing, on getting his heart rate down to normal, on not fainting. When he’s sure his body is not about to forget how to keep him alive anytime soon, he tries to get free, pulling with all his strength, but the ice doesn’t budge.

He’s not allowed to firebend, his waterbender nemesis would certainly classify that as a wrong move, but the ice is burning on his bare skin, and he’ll get frostbite, and it’ll take hours for the ice to melt, and he’s just so, so tired. Still, he counts to one hundred, waiting for someone to come back. No one does, so he calls a tiny flame to each of his hands, trying to make it as hot as possible without enlarging it, thankful that it’s not yet dark enough for the fire to cast shadows onto the temple wall. It takes far too long for the ice to melt, and his ears are pricked up for any hint of approaching footsteps, but everything stays silent, and Zuko keeps working, and finally there’s enough room in the ice for him to pull his arms out. He quenches the flames, still afraid to have been caught out, but there’s nobody there, and nobody complaining, and nobody killing him.

Well. That’s something, at least.

He uses his breath of fire to carefully warm the skin on his arms. Then he smashes the remaining ice with his elbow and places the shards in the cup and the bowl no one has taken away and no one has seen fit to refill, as if that little bit of food and water were enough for a still-growing teenager. Enough to keep him alive, yes, but not enough to keep him in a good shape. Makes sense that they don’t want him to be in a good shape; he’ll be easier for them to handle if he’s weak. He still remembers the hunger from his time roaming the Earth Kingdom as a refugee, the trembling in his limbs the first few times he went too long without food, the lightheadedness. His short stay in the Fire Nation wasn’t enough to make up for all the muscle mass he’d lost.

In the thickening darkness, he watches the ice melt, glad the waterbender didn’t think this through before providing him with extra liquid.

If he wants to get out of here alive, he has to start being creative. And possibly, he thinks as he takes his first gulp, he might actually be up to that.

Chapter Text

Sokka is on babysitting duty. Again. (“You did that so well last night, don’t you want to do it every night? We need a proper man to protect us from the firebender.”) He wakes up in the middle of the night. Again. For a moment, he’s not sure why he has woken. Was there a sound, or—

And then he hears it.

“—No, please … Please don’t—”

Zuko, he thinks immediately, Zuko has managed to escape from his prison and is attacking Aang, and Aang is begging—

Sokka is out of his bedroll, boomerang in hand, before he realizes it’s Zuko who is doing the begging.

… What? Why?

There are three possible reasons that jump to mind: A) It’s a trap, and Zuko is trying to lure Sokka into his firebending range. B) Haru or … or Katara are scaring the prince for real. C) A monster is about to maul their prisoner to death.

Either way, he should check it out. He hurries to the dark rectangular shape on the side of the balcony, thankful that Yue is not hidden behind clouds, and stops short of entering the prince’s field of view (mindful of option A). He carefully peeks around the corner of the cell, expecting to see either the prince’s grinning face and a handful of flames, or some kind of monster, because Haru and Katara would have said something by now.

It’s neither.

The prince is thrashing around on the floor.

“Zuko?” Sokka whispers.

“—please … No, I am loyal to you—please don’t … I’m begging you, please, please—“

Dreaming, Sokka realizes. Nightmare. He stands there dumbly, unsure what to do.

The prince whimpers, making the hairs on the back of Sokka’s neck stand on end because no sixteen-year-old should ever sound like that, and then Zuko hisses as if in pain, and then he screams and keeps on screaming, and Sokka cannot just watch this anymore.

Having learned his lesson, he steps back to bring one of the solid prison walls between Zuko and himself before shouting, “Zuko! Wake UP!”

The screaming stops abruptly, and there’s a gasp. No eruption of flames. No smoke. Just heavy breathing. Sokka risks another peek. The prince is sitting bolt upright on the floor, fists pressed against his eyes.

“Hey, you okay?” Sokka asks.

The prince flinches violently and looks up at Sokka, who takes that as his cue to duck back behind the wall. It’s silent for a moment.

“’M fine,” the prince says, not sounding fine at all. “Just a nightmare.” He pauses. “I’m not gonna attack you.”

Before Sokka can think of a reply, Katara and Aang come running out of the temple, Haru on their heels.

“Sokka!” Katara shouts, running straight into him and crushing his ribs in a hug. “I’m so glad you’re okay. Are you okay?” Holding him at arm’s length, she turns him around to look him up and down in the moonlight. “Are you hurt? We heard screaming and—”

“I’m fine,” Sokka says before she can fuss over him any more, shoving her hands away. “Zuko just had a nightmare.”

“Oh.” She steps forward to be able to see into the cell, and glares. Sokka is grateful he’s not on the receiving end of that glare. “You sure that’s all?” she asks. “And he’s not, I don’t know … planning something?”

“What would he be planning? I saw him have the nightmare. There was no bending, no fighting, no trap, and no monsters eating our prisoner.” The others give him that kind of look. “What?” he says. “I’ve thought this through, and I have everything under control. You can go back to bed.”

Aang steps forward too, looking into the cell with pity. “Are you okay, Zuko? I know that nightmares are just the worst.”

Katara grabs Aang’s arm, pulling him back out of the area Zuko can see and throw fire at. “Don’t get too close,” she says, and Sokka wonders whether she might mean that in more than just the physical way.

“But he’s all—all shaken, and troubled and stuff,” Aang says. “Hey, Zuko, would you like me to stay and talk to you? I can take over from Sokka if you want.”

“No,” Katara says. “We’re not leaving you alone with him, Aang. If anyone takes over Sokka’s watch, it’ll be me or Haru.”

Sokka winces at the word watch, because he thought he was just supposed to be near Zuko, not necessarily watching. “Hey, I got this, alright? Just because I’m not a bender doesn’t mean I can’t keep watch. You can go back to bed.”

“Are you sure?”

“Go,” he repeats, shooing them away with his hands. “Let Sokka do the babysitting.”

The others exchange a glance, then say good night and go back into the temple.

So far, so good. He is capable of handling the prince, even if he’s a nonbender, damn it.

Silence.

Sokka juts his head around the prison wall again, ready to duck back at any moment. His eyes need to adjust to the darkness in the cell again before he can make out the prince huddling in the far corner, knees at his chest, using his sleeve to wipe his forehead. When he notices Sokka watching, he stops and wraps his arms around himself.

“I screamed?” he asks quietly.

“Yep.”

“Oh.” The prince hesitates. “Did I wake you?”

“Yep.”

“Oh. Sorry.”

“Well, it’s not like you did it intentionally, so.” At least Sokka is eighty percent sure the nightmare wasn’t just an act.

“Did I …” The prince gulps audibly. “Did I talk?”

Sokka shrugs. “Just a bit of begging.”

The prince lets his forehead sink onto his knees with a groan, hiding his face.

“It was very nice begging, if that helps,” Sokka says.

“Shut up.”

“Okay. Shutting up.” Sokka looks down at his hands, realizes he’s still holding his boomerang, and sheathes it. “Can I ask—”

“No.”

“Yeah, I understand, I was just wondering—”

“I said no!”

Stepping out of the possibly-getting-fried area at the prince’s angry tone, Sokka hesitates. He gets that Zuko doesn’t want to talk about it, he really does, if someone had seen him in a state like this, he’d be mortified … But he just needs to know.

“Did you dream about—about us actually, you know …” He looks at his feet. “Torturing you?” The ground is cold through his socks. He should have put on shoes.

There’s a sigh. “No, Sokka.”

“Oh. Good.” But then Sokka considers the possibility that Zuko might dream about worse things than being tortured by his enemies, and his dinner feels like it’s about to climb up his throat. If you want to be better than your enemies, you have to be better than your enemies.

Sokka peeks again.  “Um … do you need anything?”

“I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine.”

“I said I’m fine!”

“You’re trembling.”

“I’m just cold.” Zuko scowls up at him. “Now leave me in peace.”

“I thought firebenders never feel cold.”

“What? Of course we do. I can keep myself warm with firebending, but—”

“No firebending!” Sokka snaps.

“I know. That’s why I’m feeling cold, idiot. Wait, uh … I didn’t mean the idiot part, it was an—it was—I didn’t mean it.” He tugs his knees tighter against his chest, and Sokka can’t help but feel sorry for him, even though ‘idiot’ is technically an insult and according to rule number two, he should take off his sock and stuff it into Zuko’s mouth. But how is he supposed to do that if he can’t enter the cell? Not to mention that he doesn’t want to stuff a sock into Zuko’s mouth, washed or unwashed or whatever. Technically, he is an idiot, and Zuko can’t be held responsible for telling the truth.

And Sokka was a jerk yesterday, wasn’t he? It’s not Zuko’s fault that Sokka can’t be as scary as Haru, and definitely not as scary as Katara. And if being mean doesn’t help make him any scarier, he may as well try being nice.

“Wait a moment,” Sokka says, “I’ll be right back.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Zuko replies bitterly.

“That’s … Wow, that was a joke. You joked. I can’t believe it.”

“It’s not really a joke if it’s true.”

Approaching their main camp area at the other end of the balcony, Sokka gropes around until he finds the lamp and the spark rocks, lights the candle so he can see properly, puts on his shoes and then starts rummaging through their luggage. They don’t have any spare bedrolls, and The Duke got the last blanket, and Teo is using the one they found in Zuko’s tent, so in the end he grabs his winter parka from back home.

“Not your color,” Sokka says back at the cell, stuffing it through the bars, “but it’s warm.”

Zuko doesn’t move, he just stares at the lamp like a starving man would stare at a pile of sausages. And then looks up at Sokka and narrows his eyes.

“What?” Sokka says, still holding the parka out to the prince. “Are you not going to wear it just because it’s blue?”

“That’s not … Why would you … I’m not falling for it.”

“Uh … Falling for what?”

“The trap.”

Sokka looks around. “I don’t see a trap.”

“You’re trying to lure me close so that you can punish me for insulting you.”

What in La’s name?! Why would anyone think that? Is this like Zuko interpreting Sokka’s offered help as a threat again? “No,” he says. “I’m not. I am literally offering you my parka. Take it or don’t, I don’t care.”

“And the lamp?”

“What about it?”

“Are you letting me have fire?”

… Good point. Sokka puts the lamp down on the ground so fast the metal clangs against the stone, and drops the parka so he can take a step to the side. How can he have forgotten about the firebending problem? Zuko could use that flame to burn him to a crisp. “Okay, you’ve got me there. I’m an idiot. I forgot.” He should probably blow out the candle, but in order to blow it out he would have to get close, and he’d rather not do that.

Zuko blinks at him. “You forgot?”

“Yeah. Now do you want the parka or do you not want it? It’s not a trap.” He takes a few more steps to the side to show he’s not going to grab Zuko and stuff a sock into his mouth the moment he comes close enough to the bars (and not at all to get closer to that possibly life-saving or at least unburnt-skin-saving cell wall).

Zuko scowls at him—whatever for—but does stand up to snatch the parka off the ground and put it on. It’s too small for him, the sleeves end above the wrists and it seems tight around the shoulders, and Sokka is close to demanding it back because it’s just unfair that Zuko is a bender and a prince and taller than Sokka and more muscly, too.

“Thank you,” Zuko says, and Sokka can’t bring himself to reclaim it.

“Just don’t burn it. I’ll want it back eventually.”

“Alright. Maybe just this once I won’t burn something someone lent me.”

Sokka stares at him, aghast. “Was that another joke?”

“Well, yes.”

“Dude, it was horrible. It wasn’t even close to being funny.”

“I’m not known for being funny.” Zuko sits back down in his corner, shrinking into the parka. With the light of the lamp, Sokka can see him properly now, can see the hair hanging limply into Zuko’s face, and the dark circles under his eyes, and the way he’s still shivering. All in all, he looks miserable.

“We have to change that,” Sokka decides. Because Zuko might be a firebender and dangerous, but he’s still just a boy. A boy who just had the worst nightmare of his life.

“What?”

“I’m going to teach you how to joke properly. I’m the jokes guy. The meat and sarcasm and jokes guy, but we’re almost out of meat, so. Sarcasm and jokes are what I’ve got left. With me as your teacher, you’ll start being funny in no time!”

Zuko sighs. “I’m not in the mood.”

“Wanna hear a real joke? Here’s a real joke: If an ostrich-horse doesn’t like daylight, what is it?—A night-mare!” Sokka cracks up at his own joke.

Zuko doesn’t. “Stop making fun of me.”

“I’m not making fun of you. I’m making fun for you. That’s a big difference. Like the difference between day and night. Or between a stallion and—guess what—a mare!” The glare Zuko sends him makes Sokka take another step back. “Okay, no more nightmare jokes, got it. New topic, then. Hm …” Sokka taps his chin, thinking. “Ah, I have one! What do you call a firebender who blackmails Earth Kingdom citizens and presses them for money? Hm?” Zuko doesn’t try to guess. “A c-ashmaker!”

Zuko doesn’t even have the decency to laugh. “That’s not something to joke about.”

“Nonsense! It all depends on context. From the Fire Lord that joke would be inappropriate, yes, but from me? From me it’s hilarious. I have another one with fire, listen: A flame is in love with another flame, but they’re running low on fuel and are about to get extinguished. So the flame finally finds the courage to ask: ‘Wanna go out with me?’”

Zuko just rolls his eyes. “That one is old.”

What’s wrong with that guy? Does he just not like jokes about the Fire Nation? “Okay, okay, how about this one: What’s an earthbender’s favorite part of a fruit?” Sokka waits expectantly. Toph cackled like a goose-hen when she first heard this pun, it has to make the prince laugh.

Zuko doesn’t reply.

“The stone!”

Zuko groans and puts his head into his hands, undoubtedly to hide a smile. “Is this some kind of punishment?”

“Ha!” Sokka exclaims, pointing at Zuko triumphantly. “I knew I’d get through to you! Pun-ishment? Not bad for a first try.”

“I didn’t mean to … ugh!” Zuko rubs his face with his hands. “Just leave me alone.”

But Aang had a point, right? Nightmares are just the worst, and this one seemed … worse than the worst. And Sokka can’t get the image of Zuko whimpering and screaming out of his mind, so if he sleeps now, he’ll have nightmares of Zuko having a nightmare. “No, I won’t.”

“Sokka. Just go back to bed. It’s the middle of the night.”

“I know,” Sokka says, “I can perfectly tell that it’s the middle of the night even without that creepy-firebending-sensing-where-the-sun-is magic you mentioned yesterday.”

“It’s not magic.”

“I know, dammit, stop sounding like Katara!” That shuts the prince up for a short moment, at least. Too short a moment.

“Sokka, just go back to sleep. I promise I won’t wake you up with my screaming again tonight.” Which sounds a lot like ‘I won’t sleep again tonight.’ With dawn still hours away.

“You still look miserable,” Sokka says.

“Is that supposed to cheer me up or make me feel worse? I can’t tell.”

An idea pops into Sokka’s head. “Ha!” he exclaims, making Zuko flinch, “thanks, brain. You know what? We’re going to play a game.”

Zuko watches him doubtfully. “A game?”

“Yes! What kinds of games did you play with your sister when you were kids?”

“Uh … Dodge the flames? Hide and explode?”

“Dodge the flames?” Sokka echoes. “Hide and explode?” Fire Nation royals, he reminds himself. Crazy, crazy Fire Nation royals. “Nope, I’m not playing that with you.”

“Good. Then are you going to leave me alone?”

“So you can wallow in misery for the rest of the night? Nope, not doing that, either. We’ll play … middle of two words!”

Zuko frowns. “I don’t know that one.”

“I’ll explain. I’ll just,” Sokka motions at the cell wall, “sit around the corner. Just in case.”

“I won’t throw fire at you when I lose. I’m a good loser. I always lose.”

“Third joke in a single night. I’m proud of you.” Sokka sits around the corner anyway, because not being able to be scary is not the same as not being able to be scared. Leaning his back against the cell wall, he says, “There are no losers in this game, just winners.”

“… How is that supposed to work?”

“You’ll see. First, think of a word.”

“What word?”

“Any word. Just … anything.” Sokka waits. “Got something?”

“I think so.”

“My word is jerky. What’s yours?”

“Prison.”

“Not very creative,” Sokka says.

“You said any word.”

“Okay, okay. Now what we do is to try to find a word that is in the middle of these two words, and I’ll count down from three and we’ll both say what we think is in the middle. If we decided on the same word, we win, if not, we’ll repeat the process with the two new words. Got it?”

“I think so.”

“Good. Have you decided?”

“Yes.”

Sokka considers. “Me too. So, three … two … one—butchery.”

“Hungry,” Zuko says at the same time.

“That’s not in the middle,” Sokka complains.

“Yours is not in the middle.”

“Mine is—Never mind. Let’s go on. Middle of butchery and hungry. Three … two … one—shopping.”

“Burglary.”

“Burglary?!” Sokka says. “Why would you break in when you can just buy food?”

“I tried to think like you.”

Sokka crosses his arms. “I’m not a thief!”

“Hey, you suggested the game.”

“I know, I know. Fine. Next one. Middle of shopping and burglary. Three … two … one—stealing.”

“Prison,” the prince says.

“You already started with prison.”

“I know.”

Sokka throws up his hands. “Ugh, I’m trying to lift the mood, and all you think of is prison and hungry.”

“Well, I have my reasons.”

“Fine!” Sokka snaps. “Fine, I’ll go get food, but don’t tell Katara when she asks where the last jerky has disappeared to.”

He finds the bag with the jerky without the lamp because of course he knows exactly where the jerky is, takes out half of the contents for himself and throws the rest at the prisoner.

“Now let’s start over with two new words because this is hopeless,” Sokka says, sitting back down and taking a bite. “Iceberg.”

“Turtle-duck.”

Chapter Text

Zuko misses the lamp. Sokka took it away when he went to fetch Zuko’s breakfast, not saying a word about how the flame was still alive even though the candle had already been nothing but a stump hours before. It was risky, using his firebending to keep the wax from burning too quickly, but he needed the flame. He couldn’t just let it go out. And Sokka hadn’t punished him for the insult either, so it was worth the risk. What Zuko doesn’t understand is why Sokka didn’t just blow out the candle after admitting that he forgot they wanted to starve Zuko of his element.

“Hey, Zuko.”

Zuko jumps out of his skin, whirls around. He hasn’t heard any footsteps approach. It takes him a moment to spot the Avatar’s face hanging upside down from the roof of his prison cell, watching Zuko through the bars.

“You shouldn’t be here.” The waterbender will make him suffer if she catches him talking to the Avatar, whether it was his choice or not.

“Why not? I’ll just stay up here. You can’t hurt me with all that stone between us.” The Avatar grins, which looks more like a scowl when seen upside down.

“I don’t even want to hurt you.”

“Then I don’t see a problem.” The face disappears to leave only empty space and the rustling of clothes from above, which probably means the Avatar is getting comfortable on the roof.

Zuko sighs, lies down on the floor because that’s the furthest he can get from anything the waterbender might mistake as an aggressive stance, and crosses his arms. Better to get it over with quickly. “What do you want?”

“I was wondering … How long have you been looking for me before I came back?”

Great. What a great conversation to have with the Avatar. “I already told Sokka about that yesterday.”

“Oh. That must have been after I left, sorry.”

Zuko sighs again. “Almost three years. Is that all? Then you’d better go.”

“Why did you think you’d find me if nobody had seen me for ninety-seven years?”

Amazing how quickly a bad conversation can get worse. “I was banished. Father said I can only come home if I catch the Avatar. I didn’t have any other choice.”

“Oh. Okay.”

There’s a long silence. Zuko can’t hear any sound from above. “Are you gone?”

“No.”

Zuko suppresses another sigh. “What now?”

“I was just thinking … You spent a lot of time looking for airbenders, right?”

“… Yes,” Zuko says, wary of where this is going.

“Did you find any? Apart from me?”

The excitement and hope in the Avatar’s voice make Zuko wince. This is just getting worse, and worse, and worse. “No, Aang. I’m sorry.”

“Oh.” The sudden disappointment sounds as if Zuko had just killed the Avatar’s pet. “Have you been to all of the air temples?”

“Of course.”

“Oh.” There’s a pause. “Wait, does that mean you’ve been to the Southern Air Temple?”

Zuko rolls his eyes. “What is there to misunderstand about ‘all of the air temples’?”

“I’ve been there too. Since I came back, I mean.”

Zuko doesn’t reply. He has no idea what the Avatar is getting at, but knowing his luck, it’s nothing good.

“I saw the …” He hears the Avatar take a deep breath. “The corpses.”

Yes, definitely not good. “I’m sorry,” Zuko repeats, because there’s nothing else to say.

“You were there before me. And you didn’t even … you didn’t even lay their bodies to rest. You didn’t even do that much for my people.”

Zuko tries to blink away the images of the skeletons, the broken bones, ash and soot, splintered skulls, often impossible to discern who was Fire Nation and who was Air Nomad, except for the too-small skeletons of children, who must definitely have been Air Nomads. He was barely older than the Avatar when he saw them. It’s his fault that the Avatar saw them. “I didn’t want to …” To what? To touch the skeletons? To burn those who had died burning? To acknowledge he had no idea what Air Nomads used to do with their dead? To make the genocide seem much more real than a line in a history book? “I didn’t want to stay longer than necessary.”

“Oh, right.” There’s anger in the Avatar’s voice now. “I forgot you had no time to lose hunting me.”

“That’s not—”

“You’re the worst!” Now he’s shouting. “My people died, and you saw how awful the Fire Nation was, and you didn’t even take the time to honor our dead! You just wanted to finish what your great-grandfather had started! You only ever think of yourself!”

It’s difficult to breathe. Which might be Zuko’s body forgetting how to function properly again, or it might be the Avatar reducing the amount of air in Zuko’s cell. Perhaps he has misjudged the boy. Perhaps the Avatar does want revenge, and will just bend all of the air out of Zuko’s lungs. Would that be preferable to being drowned by the waterbender, or would it feel worse?

“What, now you don’t even say anything?” the Avatar yells. “You know what? I’m done with you!”

The wind picks up, there’s something that might be a sob, and then a whoosh, and then no more sounds.

Zuko’s heart is hammering in his throat. He concentrates on breathing, relishing every single inhale, grateful that the air is still there.

He wonders how long it will take the waterbender to come here to punish him.

Even if she doesn’t kill him right away—he hasn’t done anything to deserve that, has he?—now that even the Avatar hates him, it’s only a matter of time until one of them decides to get rid of him permanently. And then he won’t be able to help with defeating Father, and won’t be able to apologize to Uncle. He can’t let himself get killed, not yet. He has to do something about it. He has to come up with a plan. Never give up without a fight.

Operation: Get Out Of This Alive—Step 1: Observe

Mealtimes are the only bright spot of Zuko’s days. Sometimes, he gets three meals a day. Sometimes, they make him skip one. Zuko can hear the children eating and laughing at the other end of the balcony, then, but nobody gives him anything.

It’s either to teach him his place or to sap his strength or to pressure him into begging or just to be mean. With time, he’ll surely find out which.

Zuko has just finished eating his lunch and is trying to decide which meditation exercise to do this afternoon when Sokka appears in front of the cell, carrying … another meal?!

“I’m afraid it might have gone cold,” Sokka says, stepping nervously from one foot to the other as if he expects Zuko to fry him. “I had to chase away a cat-owl that was fighting Momo before I had time to bring you this.”

Which explains why Sokka is late about bringing lunch but doesn’t explain why Sokka is bringing lunch. Katara already brought him lunch half an hour ago. Today is one of those days they made him skip breakfast, and the morning hours stretched into an eternity filled with nothing but the rumbling of his stomach. Why did they let him stay hungry half of the day only to give him a double serving now? It doesn’t make the least bit of sense. If they’re trying to starve him until he’s too weak to fight, they’re doing a bad job of it.

“Anyway,” Sokka says, setting the food down, “enjoy?”

Not a word about why they’re doing this, about what their plan is. Maybe it’s one of Sokka’s methods for confusing his enemies. Zuko is still not clear on what the confusion is supposed to achieve.

He squints up at Sokka, takes his second bowl of peanut-beans and noodles, and starts to eat. Better not to let them know the confusion is working.

Dinner was amazing. The stupid cat-owl came back and ended up in the frying pan thanks to Sokka’s terrific boomerang skills. Finally some meat! Sokka thinks he might be in a food coma now. He can’t move anymore, and he doesn’t even want to move, so he just won’t move. At least until he gets hungry again. Toph is lying on the ground next to him, picking her nose. The rest of Team Avatar has run off to do whatever.

Except for Katara, who is playing with her magic right beside Sokka’s coma bed, sprinkling his face with droplets.

“Hey!” he complains. “I’m in a coma so stop splashing me! Go play with your water somewhere else!”

She raises an eyebrow at him. “Play?! I am washing the dishes, Sokka. Ever heard of washing the dishes? No? That’s because I always do it!”

“Okay, okay, keep on splashing me, then.”

“Gladly,” she says, and a giant ice-cold wave of water crashes over Sokka.

He sits up with a jolt. “Ugh! Yuck! You’re the worst sister ever!”

Katara is looking smug. “If you don’t like the way I wash the dishes, how about you make yourself useful?”

“I am useful. I’ve been very useful today. And every day. Ever.”

“Oh? How have you been useful today? I bet you couldn’t name three things.”

“I caught dinner.”

Katara nods. “Okay. That’s one.”

“And, uh…” Damn it. He did more useful things today, he knows it. Now he just has to remember them. Does sharpening Boomerang count? “Uh… I brought Zuko lunch.”

“I brought him lunch. You brought him breakfast, but okay, I’ll count it as number two.”

Sokka frowns. “No, it was your turn for breakfast. My turn for lunch.”

“No, it wasn’t.”

Toph stops picking her nose. “Are you saying you both brought him lunch, and no one brought him breakfast?”

Sokka looks at Katara, who is looking back at him. “Yes,” he says.

“Apparently,” she admits.

Toph snorts. “Maybe you should have practiced keeping a potted plant alive before testing your skills on a human.”

Katara glares at her. “We already have lots of practice caring for Appa and Momo.”

“Appa and Momo,” Toph says, “are both better than Zuko at making themselves felt when they’re hungry.”

Sokka can’t deny she has a point.

“Why don’t you make yourself useful?” Katara asks, a scowl on her face.

Toph shrugs, grinning. “Can’t really do anything with the state my feet are in, can I?”

Despite the constant fear and worry and the hunger and the thirst, being a prisoner is boring. They leave him alone for most of the day. Sokka sometimes chats with him for a moment when bringing his food, though he always either hides around the corner of the cell or looks really on edge when he does stay in Zuko’s firebending range. He keeps on bringing food anyway instead of leaving the job to the benders. The boy has courage. Not that Zuko had any doubts about that since the moment they first met, and Sokka attacked the Fire Nation ship all on his own—it was foolish, yes, but also courageous.

Sokka never brings him a candle again, after that one night. Makes sense that they want him to suffer, and cutting him off from his element is an easy way to do that. Why else wouldn’t they even let him have a lamp? It’s not like he can do any harm with a candle that he can’t also do without a candle. Still, he can’t help but keep on hoping that Sokka might forget again that they want to make him suffer.

Katara usually stops by to check on him once or twice a day, just looking at him as if she wants to make sure he’s still there, and inspecting his cell as if she expects to see signs of him burrowing through the rock with his bare hands. Worse, she usually finds a reason to be mad at him even though he doesn’t try to burrow through the rock with his bare hands. And when she gets mad at him, it usually ends with him getting soaked. On the bright side, this increases his water supply—he just waits until she’s gone, then takes off his vest and tunic and wrings them out to drink the water she threw at him.

One of Father’s first lessons was not to complain about how he’s being treated. Zuko might have been slow at learning Father’s lessons—the multitude of scars all over his body are a testament to that—but he has learned a thing or two. It was pure luck Sokka didn’t punish him when Zuko’s frayed nerves made him complain about not being allowed to eat after that day-long interrogation, but he can’t count on his luck to persist. He has to rein in his temper or it will end badly. So he keeps his mouth shut when there’s no water to accompany his breakfast, even though he already woke up thirsty at the crack of dawn, hours before any of the children rose. And then he regrets it when the hours drag on and on and he can’t concentrate on anything but his thirst.

He never thought he’d say that, but he’s almost glad when Katara stops by to check on him. She doesn’t always attack him with waterbending, but often enough. (Too often.)

Not today, though. Not today, when he really needs it. Today, she just glares at him and then turns to leave without having said a single word.

“Wait!” he calls, getting to his feet.

She stops, turns back to watch him through narrowed eyes. “What?”

Now what? He doesn’t know what to say. She’ll only provide him with water if she gets angry, but he has no idea what usually makes her angry. And whatever he says, he won’t be able to take it back, so it had better not be something like ‘I want to kill the Avatar.’ Though if she drowns him, it will solve his problem of being thirsty very effectively. No, he will get out of this alive. He has to, so he will. Purely out of spite. So. He just has to figure out what to say.

Well, what would make Azula angry? “Uh … There’s a strand of hair out of place on your head.”

Her narrowed eyes get narrower, but she doesn’t open her waterskin. “I don’t care if my appearance is not perfect enough for your royal court standards, Your Highness.”

The way she says it sounds like she hates that he’s a prince. Because she isn’t a princess? Is that the reason? Maybe he can take advantage of that by saying … by saying ... “Of course a Water Tribe peasant like you wouldn’t understand.”

“Your insults are getting old.”

Damn it. Okay, new attempt. What would make Father angry? “Your plan to use the Avatar for fighting the Fire Nation is wrong. He’s just a kid, even younger than our newest recruits. You can’t just force him to risk his life, you can’t use him as a pawn to be sacrificed!”

She still doesn’t open her waterskin. “You’re so easy to see through.”

Oh no. That means she figured it out, right? Now she won’t provide him with extra water ever again. She’ll find other methods of punishing him.

“No matter what you say,” Katara continues, “you won’t be able to protect your father. He is evil, and he deserves what Aang is going to do.”

Zuko almost sighs in relief. So she hasn’t figured it out. Now he just needs to figure out how to make her angry. Why is he so good at annoying her when he’s not even trying but fails to annoy her when he wants to?

… Maybe he should try his best not to make her angry. Give her a compliment, or something. What would make Azula happy? “Father would be proud of you.”

The water hits him harder than he anticipated, knocking him off his feet, his head and his shoulder crash into the rock, and then he slides down the wall and ends up in a heap on the floor.

“I will never do anything that would make your father proud of me!” Katara snaps before stomping away.

Great. His strategy worked. Now he has the water he wanted, plus a headache and a bruised shoulder.

For some reason, he’s not too keen on reusing this strategy.

The sun is shining. Zuko can tell because the sunlight is illuminating the temple wall in front of him. It does that sometimes, in the afternoon hours. The sun never shines into his cell, though. It’s an especially cruel kind of torture to let him see Agni’s light right there, just out of reach. Like starving while someone is eating in front of you. He needs the sun. Needs it like he needs to breathe, needs to eat, needs to drink. But the children don’t care about that, Sokka said so when they imprisoned him here.

Zuko leans against the cell wall cutting off his view of the canyon. The rock is warm. The rock is warm like it wants to say ‘I can see the sun and you can’t.’ Zuko does what he usually does when the rock starts taunting him: he stands in the corner of his cell, sticks his arms through the bars as far as he can, and lets the sun shine onto his hands. It’s not enough, of course. Never enough.

But it’s better than nothing.

The children don’t actually do much. From what Zuko can deduce from the noises and snippets of conversation he overhears, the Avatar trains his bending with Katara or Toph, Sokka sometimes leaves the temple for hours on end to go hunting (since there’s not often meat in Zuko’s dishes, they must be keeping most of it for themselves), Haru sometimes tries to practice earthbending with Toph when she’s not beating the Avatar all over the place, and Teo and The Duke seem to spend most of their time roaming the temple. The benders haven’t yet decided to use Zuko as a training dummy, but he doesn’t get his hopes up they won’t think of that option eventually.

Worse, there’s too much time they don’t spend training, where there’s just an awful lot of relaxing and playing and arguing and fooling around going on, considering they don’t have much time left to defeat Father before the arrival of Sozin’s Comet. Zuko constantly feels like shouting at them to get back to work. (He does, once. Katara freezes his tongue to his gums. It’s not a pleasant experience.)

There’s a pair of bright green eyes watching Zuko eat. Their owner is rather small, and furry, and has huge ears.

The lemur hops through the bars and sits in front of Zuko, tracing the movement of his hand from the bowl to his mouth and back. Haru only brought him nuts and berries for dinner, nothing cooked, nothing warm. Because apparently Haru is saving the nice food for the team, giving Zuko nothing but scraps just because he can.

The lemur, at least, is very interested in the berries. Wait, did Haru give Zuko the food the children normally give to their pet? Is this supposed to be humiliating as well as spiteful?

“I am not a pet,” Zuko says. Not to anyone in particular. Definitely not to the pet.

The lemur blinks at him.

Zuko tries to ignore it, looking anywhere but at the furry fluffball with the big, round eyes, and it starts chirping angrily.

Zuko sighs and finally gives in to the temptation to talk to the animal. “Stop eyeing me like this.”

The lemur cocks its head and keeps on watching Zuko eat.

“Listen, I don’t get that much food myself. Why don’t you go and beg the others for berries?”

The lemur cries out.

“They’ve already finished eating, haven’t they? That’s why you’re here? Or because they have a proper meal, like some nice, tasty meat, and not just this sorry excuse for a meal that is only nutritious enough for a lemur?”

The lemur hops even closer, Zuko could touch it by now, and chirps again.

“Alright. I’ll give you one. Understand? One.” He holds up one finger. “And then you’ll stop begging.”

He offers a berry on his palm and the lemur snatches it and munches happily.

It doesn’t stop begging.

Zuko ends up giving it half of his berries. They’re not as filling as the nuts, anyway. And if this was actually supposed to be the lemur’s food, then Zuko is the one stealing it from its rightful owner. Poor creature. It’s not the lemur’s fault that Zuko got himself captured, or that Haru resorts to animal abuse just to teach Zuko his place.

When he’s finished and even the lemur has to acknowledge that it doesn’t make sense to keep on hoping for more, he expects the lemur to leave. It doesn’t.

No, it flies onto his shoulder and inspects his face up close. The left side of his face.

“Oh, great, have a good, long look, don’t bother to hide your staring. What, never seen a scar before?”

Apparently having satisfied its curiosity, it jumps down onto his lap. And watches him again. And keeps on watching.

“What now?”

The lemur reaches for Zuko’s chest and tugs at his tunic.

“Okay,” he says, slowly reaching for the lemur. “But don’t bite me.”

It doesn’t bite. Its fur is soft and warm and nice to stroke.

Purring contentedly, the lemur flops down on Zuko’s thighs to have its belly scratched. He obliges. “You’re not so bad, you know? I’ll share my berries with you again if the children don’t starve me.” Which they could. Which they might. Because he’s just a burden for them, an additional mouth to feed, and they might decide he’s not worth it. They might even just leave, and he’d be stuck here, slowly starving to death.

The lemur, unperturbed by thoughts like these, rolls into a ball and falls asleep to Zuko’s stroking.

“The prince is so ungrateful,” Haru complains, later that night.

Sokka glances at him before focusing on Boomerang again, angling it just right. “Did you expect anything else?” He throws, and Boomerang sails into the darkening sky.

“You should have seen him.” Haru watches the spot where Boomerang disappeared. “You should have seen how he looked at me when I brought him dinner. As if it was my fault we’re out of supplies and Katara and Toph aren’t back from the shopping trip yet. As if I didn’t spend hours foraging for something edible. As if I didn’t give him exactly the same amount of food everyone got.”

Boomerang reappears and Sokka doesn’t even have to extend his arm to catch it. Perfect. “Well, he’s a prince. No wonder he’s a little spoiled. Probably never had to skip a meal in his life.”

“Momo?” The shouting has been going on for an hour, its echoes reaching Zuko from all over the temple. “Momo!”

He should probably say something. Should have said something an hour ago, when the children started searching. But there’s a sleeping lemur curled up on his chest and he doesn’t want to wake it. He can only hope they won’t punish him too badly when they find out he knew where their pet was the entire time.

Finally, there’s the sound of approaching footsteps. Zuko would have liked to get up and bring some distance between himself and whoever is coming for him, but again—there’s a sleeping lemur on his chest and he doesn’t want to wake it.

The footsteps are close now. Not Katara’s … not Haru’s … not Aang’s … Apparently, it’s his lucky day today.

Sokka rounds the corner and stops dead in his tracks. “Momo?” he squawks. His expression changes from incomprehension to shock to fury. “What have you done to Momo?!”

“Nothing,” Zuko hastens to say.

“Nothing?!” Sokka shouts. “But he’s—”

“Shh, he’s sleeping. You’ll wake him up.”

“He’s sleeping?”

The lemur’s ears twitch at the noise, and then he blinks at Zuko wearily.

Zuko sighs. “… Not anymore.”

Sokka stares at him. “I, I thought … How did you manage to steal him?”

“I didn’t steal him. He came to me of his own accord, and he stayed with me of his own accord.” Because I gave him food when you didn’t, he doesn’t add.

Sokka wags a finger at Zuko as if he were an ill-behaved animal. “Bad Momo!” Oh, so maybe he’s wagging his finger at the animal. “We’ve been looking for you for ages! Come here, stop being a traitor lemur.”

The lemur looks at Sokka, yawns, and lies his head back down on Zuko’s chest.

Sokka crosses his arms like an offended child. “Momo! I said come! Come on! Breakfast!”

The lemur’s ears perk up at that. Without so much as a single glance back he hops through the bars and flies onto Sokka’s shoulder. How Zuko wishes he could just hop through the bars as well. The now-empty spot on his chest is cold, and he can’t help but feel betrayed by the lemur’s willingness to leave him behind without a second thought. It’s stupid, of course, and weak, but the lemur’s company helped, and now he’ll be alone again.

He sits up. “So you do feed the lemur?”

“Of course we do.” Sokka frowns. “Why wouldn’t we feed him? Are you saying people in the Fire Nation don’t feed their pets? That’s so cruel, dude.”

“We’re not the cruel ones, of course we feed our pets, I always fed the ...”

“The what?”

Zuko looks away. “Never mind.”

Sokka is always the one to sleep somewhere close by during nights, and Zuko is grateful for that, because Sokka is mostly nice to him (unless he’s annoyed by something), and is therefore unlikely to kill Zuko in his sleep. Aang never comes back to talk to him again. Zuko doesn’t see much of Toph, either, probably because she still can’t walk. Teo mostly stays away from Zuko too, but when he does stop by for a chat, he’s always polite. The Duke hasn’t given him much attention, perhaps there are more interesting things to do in this temple than to poke Zuko with a stick. Even Haru is not as bad as Zuko feared; though it’s unlikely they’ll ever be on friendly terms, Haru doesn’t hurt him for fun, doesn’t trap him in rock again, doesn’t insult him, doesn’t … doesn’t do any of the things Zuko would have expected him to do. (The next time Haru brings Zuko’s meal, it’s actually a proper meal.)

No, the only one who seems to really hate Zuko is Katara. And he understands that—she’s not being willfully evil, she’s just hurt by his former betrayal and she fears for the safety of her friends, and Zuko knows hurt, and knows fear. But that doesn’t make her any less dangerous, and he has no doubts that she’s his biggest obstacle in Operation: Get Out Of This Alive.

Time to advance to the next step.

Chapter Text

Operation: Get Out Of This Alive—Step 2: Escape

The kid is there. The small kid with the stick and the penchant for poking.

“What?” Zuko says, getting up to move out of poking range just in case.

“I’m bored. Whatcha doing, ashmaker?”

Zuko clenches his teeth at the insult, but doesn’t comment. It’s not worth it. “Nothing.”

“Doing nothing is boring.”

“Believe me, I know.”

“Then why are you doing nothing?”

“Because …” Zuko motions to his cell. “Because there’s nothing to do in here.”

“There’s also nothing to do out here.” The kid uses the stick to scratch invisible paintings on the stone floor.

“Why not?” Zuko asks. “Why don’t you go play with the others?” Then at least he wouldn’t have to hide from a kid half his size like a ridiculous coward.

The kid pouts. “Haru is doing earthbending with Toph, and Teo is washing his clothes, and Sokka is gone hunting and didn’t take me, even though I can be really quiet, and Aang is training with Katara.”

… So everyone is accounted for, and no one but the kid is nearby. Which is. Probably a chance for something?

Except there’s no door to his prison, and therefore no lock, and no key he could trick the kid into giving him.

Unless …

“Wanna play a game?” Zuko asks.

“Yes!”

“Do you know tic-tac-toe?”

“Of course,” the kid says with indignation. “Jet taught me.”

“… Jet? Jet the guy with the grass in his mouth?”

“Yes. Jet. Are you a friend of Jet?”

Well, well. This is getting interesting. “Depends,” Zuko says. “Are you?”

“I was his friend. We lived in the forest together, in a tree house, it was cool! I was one of the freedom fighters.”

One of the freedom fighters. Right. This explains the violent urges of the kid. “And are you still his friend?” Zuko asks, ignoring the fact that the Dai Li might not have let Jet live, so using the present tense might be inadequate. The kid doesn’t need to know that.

“Not really,” the kid says. “Jet blew up a dam and flooded a town. It was not nice, that’s what Pipsqueak said.”

… Whoever Pipsqueak is. “Why did Jet flood a town?”

“To get rid of the ashmakers, of course!”

“Of course,” Zuko says, clenching his hands behind his back. “Then why was it not nice?”

“Because there were cilivians there too.”

“You mean civilians?”

“Yep. Killing cilivians is not nice, Pipsqueak said.”

“That’s true.” So Jet massacred an entire town’s population just to get rid of a few Fire Nation soldiers. And Zuko helped the guy steal food. He starts hoping the Dai Li actually haven’t let Jet live. (Jet flooding a town is of course entirely different from Zuko burning down that Kyoshi Island village to get at the Avatar. Entirely different. No one even died in his fire, right? Right? Why is he feeling so nauseated, then?)

“Now can we play?” the kid asks.

“Sure. Can you fetch some sand?”

The kid runs off.

Zuko paces back and forth, contemplating his next move. Using the kid feels … wrong. But it’s his first chance at escape since they imprisoned him, and he can’t stay here. Earlier or later, Katara will kill him. Or Aang will. Or Haru. Or he’ll accidentally firebend near Toph and she’ll crush his hands with rock. Or he’ll die of thirst or hunger. He can already feel his body getting weaker—if he wants to manage to escape, he has to do it soon, while he still has the strength.

The kid returns with two handfuls of sand, puts it on the ground and smooths it. Zuko sits in front of the bars, sticks his arm through and draws a tic-tac-toe board into the sand.

“You first,” he offers.

Sticking out his tongue, the kid squints down, then sits (out of Zuko’s grabbing range, because he’s a smart one), and places an X in one of the boxes.

Zuko wins the first round. And the second. The third too. The kid is losing interest, so Zuko lets him win the fourth.

Every time one game ends, Zuko smooths the sand, pushing it slightly closer to his cell, and closer, and still closer.

Before long, the kid edges forward to reach the board game, his initial safe distance to Zuko forgotten. 

And then the boy leans forward to assess his next move, and this is it.

This is Zuko’s chance.

Grab the kid, pull him close, place his hands around the boy’s throat, call for the others in case the kid doesn’t shriek loud enough on his own, and demand they let him go free or he’ll strangle the child … They would fall for that, right?

Then he’d have to drag the kid to the temple entrance until his escape route is clear, leave the boy and run for his life. Would they purchase him, or wouldn’t they? Katara wouldn’t have any qualms about killing him. Even Sokka probably wouldn’t. There are seven of them, and he is alone.

He’d have to escape with the kid then, keep on threatening the boy’s life until he is far away. That should work.

It has to work. They can’t possibly risk him killing the boy. Except … Except Toph might know he’d be bluffing. But she wouldn’t be sure, incapacitated like she is.

… Would he be bluffing?

Zuko looks at the kid, whose tongue is sticking out in concentration again, excitement in his eyes, index finger ready to mark his next move, and …

And Zuko can’t possibly throttle this boy. The pure thought of that excitement turning into terror is making his stomach convulse.

The kid places his X, and wins another round.

“Nice one,” Zuko says. His voice sounds weird. He clears his throat.

“Duke?” someone calls, some distance away.

“THE DUKE!” the kid shouts, the echo in Zuko’s cell deafening.

… There goes his chance.

In record time, Haru rounds the corner running. He takes in Zuko, one arm sticking out through the bars to smooth the sand again, and the kid, much too close, and narrows his eyes.

“Get away from The Duke.”

“I’m not doing anything,” Zuko says. It’s not even a lie.

“Get. Away. From him.” Haru enters an earthbender stance. “Now.”

“Okay, okay.” Zuko gets up and backs away, hands raised in surrender. He very much doesn’t want to get beaten to a pulp by a boulder or smashed by the ceiling of his cell. “I did nothing wrong.”

The Duke jumps to his feet too. “We were playing tic-tac-toe, and I won three times!”

“Cool,” Haru says, his eyes never leaving Zuko. “And what were you playing at, your Highness?”

“Nothing. Do you know the meaning of the word nothing? Otherwise it’s not making much sense for you to make me repeat it again.” Zuko bites his treacherous tongue. Why does he always have to lose his temper?

“I’ll make you repeat it until you stop lying.”

“I’m not lying. The Duke was bored. I was bored too. We played a game. I even let him win. That’s all.”

“That’s not true!” The Duke yells, and Zuko’s heart skips a beat, only to start racing like a shirshu in search of its victim. If the kid accuses him of anything, Haru will never believe Zuko’s version of events. And then they’ll— “You didn’t let me win,” the kid continues, “I just won!”

“Of course,” Zuko says, the relief making his knees weak.

Haru looks from Zuko to the kid and back again. “The Duke, next time you’re bored, come find me, okay? The prince is not someone to play games with. He’s dangerous.”

“But it was fun!”

Haru glares at Zuko as if that was his fault.

Zuko isn’t sure whether it’s possible to reason with Haru, but he has to try, at least, because if Haru brings Toph here to verify Zuko’s answers and they find out what he was planning … “Look, I’ve had plenty of time to do whatever you think I’d do, and I haven’t hurt him. Perhaps you should consider the possibility that I don’t want to hurt him.” He tries to make it sound as if he hasn’t come to that conclusion only a moment ago.

“He poked you. During the interrogation. You shouted at him.”

“So?” Zuko says. “That doesn’t mean I’d want to burn him or—” He clears his throat. “—or strangle him, or something. He’s just a child.”

“I’m eight!” The Duke yells.

“Which makes you a child.”

“No, it makes me eight!”

“Of course,” Zuko says. “You’re right.”

“I’m always right. Haruuu, can I play with the ashmaker again? Just one more game.”

Haru glances between the two of them, an increasingly helpless look on his face. “Okay,” he says eventually. “One more game, and I’ll stay here and watch.”

The Duke pouts again. “I don’t need you to watch. I can take care of myself. If the ashmaker tries anything, I’ll hit him.”

“You sure will. I just want to watch you win, okay?”

“Okay! Ashmaker, come here! I let you do the first move!”

Zuko lowers his hands slowly, eyeing Haru to ensure he’s not about to get hit by a boulder. Then he walks forward until he reaches the bars, but before he can sit down to play, Haru grabs his collar. “You lay one finger on The Duke …”

He doesn’t add a threat, which for some reason is more unsettling than if he did. Now Zuko’s mind conjures all sorts of images of what Haru might do to him. An earthbender just has so many possibilities …

“I won’t,” Zuko says, and Haru lets him go.

Heart beating much too fast, Zuko sits down, and places an O in the corner of the board.

Operation: Get Out Of This Alive—Step 2: Escape (Postponed indefinitely)
Step 2: Ensure Katara doesn’t kill you

Boomerang is getting blunt. Boomerang is not allowed to get blunt, so Sokka finds his whetstone and starts sharpening his favorite weapon.

Katara approaches, and she looks so annoyed that Sokka already guesses that this is about Zuko before she even opens her mouth.

“Guess what? Zuko sent me to fetch you. Who does he think he is?”

“A prince?” Sokka replies. “Or possibly a prisoner who can’t just fetch me himself?”

“Very funny,” she says.

“I wasn’t trying to be, for once. If I try to joke, you’ll notice.” He gets up and starts walking toward the part of the temple where the prisoner is. “Um. Why are you following me?”

“Because he said he wants to talk to both of us.”

“Hm.” This is new. Zuko never wants to talk to Katara. To be fair, he never actually asks for Sokka either. He never asks for anything. Which either means that he’s alright in that cell of his, or that he’s too prideful to ask. But whenever Sokka inquires whether Zuko needs anything, he says no. So. It’s not Sokka’s fault if Zuko is unhappy. “What does he want to talk to us about?”

“He didn’t deign to share that information with me.” Katara opens her waterskin as they approach the cell.

Zuko comes to a sudden stop when they move into his field of vision. He must have been pacing.

“Sokka,” he greets, then turns to Katara. “Thank you for fetching him.”

Katara crosses her arms, then squints at Zuko, uncrosses her arms and puts one hand on her waterskin. “Why did you want to talk to Sokka and me?”

Zuko takes a deep breath. “Because I want to renegotiate the rules. And Sokka is the one who laid them down in the first place … And. And you’re the one who inflicts the punishments.”

“What if the rules are non-negotiable?” Katara asks.

Zuko hesitates. “Are they?”

Exchanging glances with Katara, Sokka shrugs. “Depends. Which one is the one you don’t like? Or do you want to renegotiate all of them?” He’s pretty sure he knows where this is going, because it doesn’t make sense for Zuko to demand to be allowed to shout for help, or to be allowed to insult them.

“No. Just one.”

Sokka waits, as does Katara. The prince looks at them, then looks away, scratches the back of his head, fumbles his sleeves, and finally adds, “I cannot not firebend.”

“The no-firebending rule is non-negotiable,” Katara says.

Sokka remembers the flames coming out of the prince’s mouth, the sudden heat on his face, the smell of smoke. “Sorry Zuko, but I agree.”

“If that’s all,” Katara says, “I’m going to go, before you can waste more of my time.”

She turns away, and Zuko jumps forward, one arm outstretched as if to catch her, even though she’s a safe distance from the bars. “No, wait!”

Faster than Sokka’s brain can register, a wave of water is crashing into the prince and slamming him against the wall, freezing on impact to keep him in place.

Zuko groans. “What was that for?”

“For trying to attack me,” Katara says.

“I wasn’t trying to attack you!”

Zuko is probably telling the truth, but Sokka has fourteen years of experience in how to deal with Katara, so he doesn’t bother trying to change her mind.

“Looked like you were,” she says.

“I wasn’t! I just wanted to ask you to hear me out.” Zuko exhales audibly. “Please hear me out.”

It’s the first time Sokka has heard the prince say ‘please’ in a waking state. It’s almost scary, and reminds Sokka of the gut-wrenching begging of Zuko’s nightmare. “Okay,” he says, “I’ll hear you out. Katara?”

She purses her lips. “Fine. Say what you want to say.”

Zuko is starting to tremble. No wonder with that ice all around him and the thin clothes he’s wearing—the warm parka Sokka has lent him is lying in a corner. Has Zuko not guessed that Katara might ice him? Or has he guessed and wants to keep the parka dry to warm him up afterwards? Or is he trembling because he’s scared of Katara?

“I’m not a firebending master and—”

“You said you’re good,” Katara interrupts him. “When you claimed you wanted to be Aang’s teacher, you said you’re good at firebending.”

“Well, I am considered to be good.” Zuko looks uncomfortable just saying it. “But I’m not that good. I don’t have perfect control. When I’m angry, or scared, or … or cornered—which tends to happen when I’m being held prisoner, you know—I … I sometimes lose it. The control. It’s not intentional, and I don’t do it to harm anyone, it’s just … accidental …” He trails off, looks at Sokka, looks at Katara, desperation creeping onto his face. “Does that never happen to you?”

Katara glares. “What, are you implying I’m not a proper waterbending master?”

Zuko’s eyes widen, and he does the smart thing and backtracks immediately. “No, no. Not at all. You’re a great waterbending master. I just mean … Do you never cause waves, or make it snow, or crack ice, or whatever, when you’re angry?”

“Are you kidding me?” Sokka says, glad to have a reason to jump into the conversation. “She does that all the time.”

“Not all the time,” Katara replies.

“Nooo, of course not. Only when you were angry at Pakku for not teaching you, and when you shouted at Dad that you want to go hunting with the men, and when I threw you into the sea after you’d stolen Boomerang, and … Oh, remember the time you almost made our house crash when Gran Gran said you couldn’t go build a snow fort with me because you needed to learn how to knit? Not to mention that you cracked a giant iceberg in half because you were angry at me for whatever.”

Katara is blushing, so Sokka counts it as a win. “At least we found Aang that way.”

“What?” Zuko blurts out.

“Oh,” Sokka says, “you didn’t know?” The thought never occurred to him that Zuko might not know why Aang suddenly returned after a century. “I tried to catch a fish and Katara chased it away and then she yelled at me and there was this iceberg that fell into pieces and ta-dah! There was the Avatar, all glowy and everything.”

Zuko is staring at Katara. “You … you found the Avatar because you lost your temper?”

“That’s none of your business,” Katara says, crossing her arms and leaving them crossed, now that Zuko isn’t a threat, iced to the wall.

Zuko moans. “It should have been me. By rights it should have been me. I’m great at losing my temper.” For once, there’s a statement they don’t need Toph to confirm as truth.

“Are you saying,” Katara hisses, “that you wish you’d found Aang?” Sokka preemptively takes a step away from her. It’s never a good idea to be close to Katara when she’s this furious.

“Um …” Zuko gulps. “No. Of course not. If I’d found him back then, I’d have handed him over to Fa—to the Fire Nation.”

The Fire Nation. Not ‘Father’ and not ‘Dad’. Never ‘Dad’. Sokka doesn’t want to think about why. “So what you’re saying is: it’s normal to do unintentional bending when you’re feeling emotional. Right?” he asks.

“Right,” Zuko says. “So when that happens, it’s not an attack, and it’s not directed at you.”

“And is that the kind of bending you want us to allow you?”

“Well, it’s … It’s going to happen whether you allow it or not. I just … I mean …” Zuko breathes audibly. “Don’t kill me when it happens.”

Sokka suddenly regrets his initial threats very much, seeing the distress on Zuko’s face. “Dude, I was bluffing when I said we’d kill you if you firebend. We’re not going to kill you.”

For some reason, Zuko isn’t looking at him, though. Zuko is looking at Katara. Even though Katara is not the one who came up with rules number one to three and respective punishments for not following them.

“So …” Katara says. “You can’t control it, and accidents are going to happen?”

“That’s what I said.”

“Alright.”

Zuko blinks. “Alright?”

“I understand that unintentional bending is likely to occur.”

“Um,” Zuko says. He doesn’t seem reassured. “That’s … good.”

“Indeed. It means that we can prevent unintentional firebending before it happens.”

“Prevent …” Zuko’s trembling is getting worse. So it is because he’s scared of Katara. Not that Sokka can blame him; she can be terrifying. “How could you prevent that?” Zuko asks.

“We’ll make sure you can’t firebend,” Katara says.

“Make sure I can’t …” Zuko echoes, like a semi-trained pig-parrot. He looks like he’s close to hyperventilating.

Sokka feels a stab of pity. “Katara, just tell us what you mean.”

“We’ll use earthbending to incapacitate him.”

“No!” Now Zuko is definitely hyperventilating, and struggling against the ice in vain. “I didn’t mean it like that, I take it back, no accidents are going to happen, I promise, I’ll keep myself in check, just don’t crush my hands!”

Sokka takes a step back, repulsed. “Crush your …” Now the image is stuck in his head, and he’ll never get it back out, and he never wanted to imagine what crushing someone’s hands would look and sound like, thank you very much. Or what having his own hands crushed would feel like. Sokka wiggles his fingers, trying to get rid of the phantom pain. “Katara, please tell him you weren’t going to suggest we crush his hands.” Because she can be terrifying, but she’s not cruel.

She rounds on Sokka, glaring at him as if he had misjudged her character this crassly. “Of course I wasn’t, who do you think I am? The Fire Lord?”

“The Fire Lord doesn’t—” Zuko starts, then snaps his mouth shut. “Never mind.”

Sokka doesn’t want to know who Zuko got the idea from, if not the Fire Lord. And Katara shouldn’t be able to be this scary. “No hand crushing, and no killing, alright? Now everyone calm down. Katara, what were you going to suggest?”

“Remember how Haru fettered him before the interrogation? He wasn’t able to firebend at all. We’ll have Haru or Toph do that again, and keep him like that.”

Of course Sokka remembers. It’s hard to forget that pathetic pile of teenager kneeling on the ground, half-entombed, looking up at them with desperation in his eyes. “I don’t know,” he says. “Don’t you think that’s a bit harsh? He’s …” Sokka motions at Zuko. “He’s still a human being.”

“I’m not suggesting it because I’m vindictive,” Katara says. “And I’m not saying he has to kneel. He can choose whatever position he’s most comfortable in. But his hands are going to be covered in rock, and his feet too, and we have to somehow make sure he can’t breathe fire at us. That’s reasonable, isn’t it?”

Sokka looks at Zuko, who has become uncharacteristically still and is hanging there limply as if the ice is the only thing keeping him on his feet. “Hey, Zuko, are you still breathing?”

“… Yes.”

“Okay. Good.”

“Sokka,” Katara continues, “he’s a threat. He said so himself. He’ll bend whenever he loses his temper, which is all the time.”

“Not as often as it used to be,” Zuko says, but it’s quiet and sounds pretty defeated.

Sokka turns back to Katara. “But you also do that. It’s not his fault.”

“I’m not saying it is. But accidental waterbending will just splash you—”

“Or bring the house down on our heads.”

“—whereas accidental firebending will burn you. Zuko, do you deny that fire is dangerous?”

Zuko is silent for a moment. “No.”

“There you have it, Sokka.”

It makes sense, but he still feels sorry for Zuko. “What about mealtimes?”

“We’ll let him out during mealtimes. I won’t feed him. Apart from that, he’ll stay fettered.”

Sokka knows Katara too well to object.

Chapter Text

Operation: Get Out Of This Alive—Step 3: Stay in good shape

Trial and error teaches Zuko that the most comfortable position to stay in for extended periods of time is lying on his back. His hands are entombed and his ankles secured to the ground and there’s stone over his forehead too. He can theoretically still breathe fire, but it would only dissipate in the air above him since he can’t turn his head for a directed attack. Without a proper stance and use of his hands, the rest of his firebending is inaccessible. Which is pretty much the point, and very much annoying.

The worst part is, he probably deserves this. He did consider kidnapping the child, after all, and he’s lucky they haven’t found that out yet. And he did chase them from one end of the world to the other, and he did help kill Aang, and if they decide he has to suffer for his crimes, who is he to disagree?

Toph is back on her feet, and she and Sokka—independently of one another—both stop by several times a day to ask if he needs anything. Zuko always says no, but they keep on checking, anyway. Toph never calls him out on the lie. Maybe her feet aren’t completely fine yet.

Positive side effects of the new situation: it’s the third day already and they haven’t made him skip any meals yet. Which might or might not have anything to do with the fact that there are now always two people serving his food—Katara and Haru for breakfast, Sokka and Haru for lunch, Katara and Toph for dinner. Almost like they have a schedule for it. Wait, does that mean they just kept on forgetting his meals before they had a schedule to stick to? Also, it’s the third day and Katara hasn’t found a reason to attack him with waterbending once.

Negative side effects of the new situation: it’s even more boring. He aches to move. He can’t even scratch his head when his scalp itches, and wakes up at night when his body wants to roll over in his sleep and isn’t able to. Also, he can’t get the least bit of sunshine on his skin anymore and it makes him twitchy. There’s no immediate effect apart from that, but if they keep him sun-deprived for a long time … Better not to think about it. And without Katara’s attacks, he has even less water available. He’ll have to come up with a new strategy for increasing his water supply.

Zuko takes a deep breath, trying to calm his nerves and wishing he could see Agni’s face in the sky to make him feel strong, but wishing is no use. He looks up at his nemesis’ face instead, doing his best to ignore Haru by her side.

Maybe he should—no. It’s better to ask the people who hate him first, because if they say yes, he doesn’t have to worry about them getting mad if one of the other people says yes. And if they say no … well, then he can still figure out whether to risk asking one of the others instead. So it’s now or never.

“I’m … I’m still thirsty. Can I …” His mouth refuses to get the rest of the words out.

Katara frowns down at him, probably pondering how to exploit that weakness, or how severely to punish him for his ungratefulness, or for implying he’s not being treated well enough. Damn it, he shouldn’t have said anything. This was a bad idea. She opens her waterskin, and a sweeping gesture with her arm sends the water flying at Zuko.

He recoils, but she doesn’t hit him with the water, only drops it into his empty cup.

He stares. His heart is hammering too fast and his hands tremble slightly as he reaches for the cup. “Thank you.”

There’s congee for breakfast. Zuko feels emboldened by his success and … and it’s now or never.

“Can I have more?”

Katara scowls and opens her mouth, then hesitates and looks at him. She looks at him in a way that makes him wonder what she’s seeing. Is his tunic fitting more loosely than it used to? Are his cheeks gaunt? No, he will not resort to nervous fidgeting, no matter how much she stares.

“There’s none left,” she says, snatching the empty bowl out of Zuko’s hands.

There’s rice with beans and fish for lunch.

“Can I have more?”

“Sure,” Sokka says, and goes to refill Zuko’s bowl.

It’s such an obvious, straightforward, uncreative strategy that Zuko is amazed it works. But they actually let him have as much water as he asks for, and Katara either doesn’t know or doesn’t care that Sokka let him have a second helping of the food as well. Which is lucky, because Zuko can’t afford to become any weaker, and he will become weaker if he doesn’t get enough nutrients.

He decides never to ask Katara for seconds again, because he’s well capable of understanding that ‘there’s none left’ means ‘there’s none left for you.’

There’s potatoes and mushrooms for dinner. Zuko could swear his bowl is fuller than it usually is. Katara must have accidentally confused it with Sokka’s. Or perhaps Toph has; she’s blind, after all.

Zuko doesn’t say anything.

Something seems to be up between Katara and Toph—they never argue within his earshot, but when they bring dinner together, there’s a specific sort of iciness between them that speaks of a continued fight going on. Zuko has the sinking feeling that this is somehow his fault. Toph always looks furious while earthbending him to the ground, and he has no idea what he’s doing wrong to enrage her like this. He never struggles, never complains, and always does his best not to twitch even though it’s scary to have rock moving over his limbs, having to trust she won’t accidentally crush his bones.

Zuko has another nightmare. Sokka wakes him up before he reaches the screaming part.

“—the best of the best, a Water Tribe joke: what’s the most common dancing style in the Water Tribes? Huh? Huh?” Sokka waits a few seconds before supplying the answer. “Pole dancing!”

Zuko half-groans half-snorts in exasperation. Sokka’s puns are just so bad. But they help lift his mood and manage to keep any stray thoughts about the nightmare at bay. (Having that nightmare while his subconscious realizes he’s unable to move? Not fun.) What he still doesn’t get is why Sokka goes to all the trouble of trying to make Zuko feel better, why he’s sitting here for hours, chattering easily, instead of going back to bed.

Sokka doesn’t bother hiding behind the cell wall anymore because Zuko can’t firebend anyway. From time to time, though, he lapses into contemplative silences, and that’s such an un-Sokka thing to do that Zuko can’t help but wonder what exactly he said out loud during his nightmare, this time. Not that he’d have the courage to ask.

In the morning, Toph stops by to interrogate Zuko again. It’s a much shorter interrogation than the first one, and no one pokes him with a stick, and Toph’s questions at least make sense. But she doesn’t say she believes him, so she must still be considering his lies might be as undetectable as Azula’s. It has to be a special sisterly talent that even when Azula is not here, she still manages to ruin his life.

Sokka kicks a pebble into the abyss in frustration. “No, Katara, he’s not a monster!”

“I never said he’s a monster,” she yells back, the stream of water she was passing back and forth with Aang going off course and hitting the wall.

“But you’re the one who insists we treat him like one!”

Of course, that’s when Toph has to jump out of nowhere. “Hey guys, guess what? I’ve just—”

“Not now, Toph,” Sokka says. “We’re in the middle of something. Katara, I just don’t like this! He looks miserable!”

She glares at him. “You heard what he said.”

“He said he’s afraid he might accidentally bend. He said it wouldn’t be his fault.”

Katara rolls her eyes. “He was obviously lying.”

“Um, hey everyone?” Aang chimes in. “There’s no need to fight. I’m the Avatar, I know stuff like this. Why don’t you just lay your argument aside, and we can go on actually training, and then come back to this topic once everyone’s tempers—”

“Not now, Aang.” Sokka crosses his arms. “Okay, Katara, how was he lying?”

“Everyone knows benders inadvertently influence their elements when they’re feeling emotional. There’s no reason for him to make such a show of telling us something this obvious, unless he was planning on harming someone and then framing it as an accident to get out of the whole affair unscathed. This was exactly like what he did in Ba Sing Se, talking about his feelings until we think he’s harmless, and then he attacks. I’m not falling for the same ploy twice.”

“It wasn’t a ploy,” Toph says.

Now Katara is glaring at her. “And you know that because?”

“I was just about to tell you.” Toph bends a stone pillar from the ground and leans against it. “With my feet finally back to normal, I went to interrogate him again.”

Now Sokka understands the urge of glaring at Toph. “I’m the interrogator!”

“Don’t worry, I repeated some of your questions, too. At least the ones that weren’t stupid.”

“None of my questions were—”

“And guess what?” Toph interrupts him. “He wasn’t lying.”

Katara bends a new stream of water from the fountain and sends it to Aang, who lets it swirl above his head. “About what?” she asks.

“About anything. He came here because he’s on our side, and miraculously he’s still on our side despite your best efforts to turn him into the enemy you see in him.”

“I’m not turning him—” Katara starts.

“Yes, you are!”

“He was planning to attack someone—”

“No, he wasn’t!”

Katara throws up her hands. “Then why did he tell us about his so-called control problems?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Toph says, so much sarcasm in her voice that it makes Sokka jealous. His sarcasm never sounds this biting. “What did he say why he told you?”

“He claimed to be afraid we’d hurt him for unintentional bending.”

“Well, then maybe,” Toph yells, “he was afraid you’d hurt him for unintentional bending!”

The water flowing in a circle above Aang’s head is starting to wobble, and Sokka goes to stand next to Toph because when people argue while training, it’s always him who gets splashed in the end. “Can we perhaps stop shouting at each other?” Aang asks.

Katara takes a deep breath and blows the air out of her mouth. “Fine, so maybe he’s telling the truth.”

“He’s definitely telling the truth,” Toph says.

“We still can’t trust him,” Katara continues. “Maybe he was telling the truth in Ba Sing Se as well, and then he just changed his mind in an instant, and look who suffered the consequences.” Everyone looks at Aang. “Next time Zuko has a change of heart, someone might actually die.”

Sokka would have preferred not to be reminded of that. “You have none of that magic spirit water left, do you?”

“No.”

“Well, you know who might not have any magic spirit water either, but instead has a great brain?” None of the others says ‘you.’ Typical. “Me! And my brain has found the solution: Aang just has to stay away from Zuko. There. Danger averted. No stupid rock fetters needed.”

“Yes, they are,” Katara objects. “What if he attacks one of us instead?”

Now she’s making this about Sokka not being a bender again. Typical. “I can take care of myself!”

Katara rolls her eyes. “I wasn’t talking about you. Remember the incident with The Duke? Or when Momo went missing and Zuko had him? What if next time, Zuko has a change of heart and decides to harm The Duke? Or Teo? We can’t be there to guard him all the time, and …” She looks at Aang. “And Momo is all Aang has left from the Southern Air Temple, how do you think he would feel if something happened to Momo?”

Aang’s circle of water patters to the ground, splashing everyone. At least Sokka is not the only one who got soaked, this time. “Don’t make this about me,” Aang says, and adds quietly, “I don’t want Zuko to be miserable.”

“Fine,” Katara replies, drawing the water out of everyone’s clothes and letting it flow back into the fountain. “Maybe I was also talking about you, Sokka. And—” She holds up a hand before he can complain, “and about Toph, and Aang, and Haru, and everyone. The Fire Nation already took my mother from me. They took any potential teachers from me. Now they’ve also taken my father from me. I won’t let them take anyone else!”

“So this is about revenge?” Toph asks.

“No,” Katara snaps, “it’s about safety. You’d know that if you’d listened.”

“He can’t just change his mind again. If he goes back home, they’ll kill him!”

“Not if he brings them the Avatar. I’m sure they’ll welcome him back with open arms then.”

Toph pushes herself away from the pillar. “You know what I think? I think you’re in such a deep hole of hatred that by now, you’re just digging deeper because you’re afraid to get back out and realize you’ve undermined who you want to be.”

Katara gasps for air. “That’s not true!”

“Katara,” Toph says, her voice so intense it makes Sokka hold his breath. “Zuko is not the man who murdered your mother.”

“I know that!”

“Do you, really?”

Once Haru lets him sit up, Zuko gulps the water down first, then grabs the food. His legs want to move so badly that he’s on his feet before having consciously decided to stand up. Katara looks at him like that again.

“Um …” He gulps. “Um, can I, can I maybe walk around my cell while, uh, while I’m eating?” He usually does that when Sokka brings his meals, but Zuko never dared bring it up with Katara. He shouldn’t have asked. Damn it, he shouldn’t have asked. “It won’t slow down my eating, I promise!” Why does his mouth keep on talking? He should have just apologized and sat back down.

Katara sighs, and Zuko’s feet take a step backwards even though he hasn’t allowed them to do that. Then she starts waterbending and his feet take another step backwards. Oh, she’s only refilling his cup.

“You have one hour,” she says.

Damn it, feet, stop walking. “What? I mean, uh, one hour until … what happens?” He doesn’t even want to know, why did he have to ask?

“One hour to walk around, to eat, to move, to do whatever you want,” she says. “So long as it’s within the rules.” She narrows her eyes at him. “And don’t get any ideas, I’ll be guarding your cell from the middle of the balcony and making sure no one approaches.”

… What? This has to be a trap somehow. This has to be a trap and Zuko doesn’t know how to avoid falling right into it. “Why?” he asks.

Katara glares at him. “I don’t know, isn’t that what you wanted?”

Is this the trap? Will she interpret it as complaining if he says yes? Or does she want to catch him in a lie if he says no? “I mean … Yes?”

“Then stop asking silly questions,” she replies. “Haru, can you be back in an hour?”

“I promised Teo and The Duke we’d explore the secret passageway we found yesterday.” Haru looks from her to Zuko, and Zuko’s feet still keep on going backwards without permission until he bumps into the wall. He hasn’t yet been able to figure out what Haru wants. That guy seems to just go along with whatever Sokka and Katara decide, even though the way the two treat Zuko differs vastly. “But I guess it can wait for an hour,” Haru adds.

“Great,” Katara says, and leaves.

Haru shrugs at him and then trails after her, looking as nonplussed as Zuko feels.

He’s meditating—there’s really nothing else he can do—when the rock holding him in place suddenly disappears into the ground. Zuko sits up, confused. Sokka and Haru left a short while ago after bringing him lunch, and he’s not expecting dinner within the next few hours.

No one’s there. He waits, but no one’s coming, either.

“Hello?” he calls. No reply.

This … This must be a mistake. Toph or Haru must have lost control. Perhaps they’re training somewhere, and one of them has accidentally reached out to him. Well, he’s not going to complain. His one hour of relative freedom in the morning wasn’t nearly enough to work off all his need for movement, and he’s aching to feel his muscles, to exercise, just to do something.

But he’s aching for sunlight even more, so he spends a short eternity with his arms sticking through the bars and the sun warming his hands, until a cloud hides Agni and the need to move wins out.

Then he pushes the parka into a corner and starts running around in circles in his far too tiny cell until he feels dizzy, then changes direction and keeps on running until he’s feeling dizzy the other way. Then he stretches, and does push-ups, and jumps on the spot. He even does parts of some firebending katas—without the firebending, of course—and runs through every other exercise he can think of that is doable in the limited space he has.

It feels exhilarating, and before long, he’s grinning like a fool. He’s used to training for hours every day, has been doing this since he was a kid, has continued doing it during the years of his banishment, and his body falls back into the exertion with ease. He keeps on pushing himself, keeps on doing yet another exercise, and another one, and another one. His legs burn, and his heart is pumping heavily, and every muscle aches, and it just feels so good.

He’s back to running in circles when his foot catches on something even though the ground was smooth a moment ago, and he crashes to the floor, barely able to catch his fall. Then a slab of stone rams into his side, turning him over onto his back, and a heartbeat later his hands and ankles and head are secured again.

Thirty heartbeats later, Katara and Toph bring his dinner.

Out of the corner of his eye, Zuko can see Katara stop short. “Why are you all sweaty and panting like that?”

“I, uh …” He gulps. He can’t lie with Toph right there. “I did … a workout.”

Toph clears her throat, and something pokes Zuko into the back, even though his back is directly on the floor.

“A workout?” Katara asks, incredulous. “How did you do a workout while fettered to the ground?”

There’s another poke, more insistent than the first one. Zuko thinks hard. “Um. There’s … There’s a Fire Nation exercise where you contract your muscles in whatever position you’re in. No need to move.”

Silence. Zuko tries to keep his breathing even.

“Toph?” Katara asks.

“Truth.” She’s a much better liar than him. Zuko starts suspecting that his unexpected freedom to move might not have been a mistake, after all.

Toph leans her back against the bars of his cell. “Sparky,” she greets, like she always does.

“Rock Lady,” he replies, like he always does when he’s feeling bold enough. Then he lowers his voice. “Is there anyone within earshot?”

“Nope.”

“Why did you do that?” he blurts out.

“Do what?”

“You know what! Yesterday, why did you let me out? Why did you let me run around for hours?”

“Did you enjoy?” she asks.

“Well, yes, of course!”

“Then maybe that’s why I did it.”

The stone securing him retracts, and he sits up. “Um, you’re not, you know. Supposed to let me out.”

“Oops, really?” she says in mock horror. “That must have completely slipped my mind!”

The stone grows back over Zuko’s hands. “Uh, wait, I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Then what did you mean it like?”

She releases his hands, and he stands up before she can change her mind again. It feels good to be standing. It feels good to be doing pretty much anything but lying on his back. “Mind if I pace?” he asks.

Toph sighs. “You don’t need my permission to pace.”

He’s about to argue, because last time, she didn’t allow him to pace, but he doesn’t want to ruin it. Instead, he starts walking through his cell, back and forth, back and forth. The muscles in his legs are sore from his workout, but good-sore, not bad-sore.

Toph still just stands there, back exposed to him, very much within grabbing distance, and not seeming the least bit concerned. “You were saying?” she asks.

“I mean—You’re doing this behind the backs of the rest of the group, you lied for me, you lied to Katara—” Toph snorts at that. “—and I’m not saying I’m not grateful, I just … I don’t get it.”

“You’re a shitty liar.”

Zuko stops dead in his tracks. “I’m not lying!”

“Not now, dimwit. It was a general statement. You’re terrible at lying.”

“I know.”

“And I know it too. Which means that if my feet say you’re telling the truth, you’re actually telling the truth.”

The relief flooding him is almost overwhelming. Finally, finally, someone believes him. “Have you told the others?”

“Of course I have,” she says, and says nothing more.

The flood of relief freezes in his stomach. “They don’t care, do they?” It was foolish to think that if he could somehow prove that he’s not lying, they’d let him join, or at least let him out of this cell.

“I tried to convince them several times in the last two days, but Katara keeps on pointing out that you switch loyalties as often as Sokka gets his socks washed, which is, like, once a month.”

“I didn’t need to know that detail, thank you very much.”

“You’re welcome.” Toph crosses her arms. “Katara is just being stubborn to the point of being stupid. Now I have proof that you’re telling the truth, and she still doesn’t care that I’m telling her that you’re harmless.”

Zuko bristles. “I’m not harmless.”

“Hey, are you trying to prove my point, or hers?”

“I—Okay, I’m harmless. I’m a harmless little turtle-duck. Now will you let me out of here?”

“And then? Where will you go?”

“I don’t know,” he says, exasperated, “maybe someplace where I’m allowed to move, and eat when I’m hungry, and drink when I’m thirsty, and firebend without getting killed.”

“And where is that?”

He hesitates. Not in the Fire Nation, obviously. Not in the Earth Kingdom. Not on either of the poles. “In, uh, the swamp?”

“And how long are you going to survive in the swamp, completely on your own?”

“Hey, I’m not helpless!”

“I thought you were a harmless little turtle-duck?”

“Turtle-ducks can bite.” He considers adding that he knows this from experience, but she’ll probably laugh at him.

Toph sighs again. “Sparky, I just don’t think letting you out of here would be a good idea. You’d get caught by the Fire Nation or by the Earth Kingdom, and then you’d be worse off than you’re now. You’d get hurt.”

“I’m getting hurt here too!”

“I mean really hurt. Not just Katara-hurt.”

“Katara, she—” he begins, but he’s not sure whether he can tell her. He probably shouldn’t. Toph might confront Katara about it and then he’s in trouble.

“Katara what?”

“I—She—” Zuko takes a deep breath. He’s in trouble either way. “Promise me you won’t tell her I told you?”

“That bad, huh?”

“Toph, will you—”

“Okay, I promise.”

Zuko takes another deep breath. “Katara threatened to kill me.”

“So what?”

“So what?” Zuko echoes.

Toph shrugs. “She says lots of things when she opens her mouth. Do you want a list of the things she said to me when I first joined the group?”

“No, thanks, but … But this is different. She means it, I know she does.”

“Wow. She really scared the shit out of you, huh? You actually believe you’re telling the truth.”

“I am telling the truth!” Why does he have to keep repeating that sentence? “She told me exactly how she’ll do it, and her eyes were … You should’ve seen her eyes.” Zuko winces. “Uh, wait, I shouldn’t have said that, sorry.”

“Are you making puns about me being blind?” she asks, but she doesn’t sound annoyed.

“Uh, no, I’m sorry. So, Katara, she’s—I don’t know, she’s completely crazy with her obsession of me being the bad guy, I just ruined everything when I helped my sister kill Aang back in Ba Sing Se, and now Katara’s not quite herself with regard to me, just because she’s in love with the Avatar—”

“She what?” Toph exclaims.

“Uh, isn’t it obvious? Haven’t you noticed the look on her face when she’s—” Zuko hits his forehead. “Sorry, I’m so stupid, I shouldn’t have—”

“Katara,” Toph interrupts him, “is in love with Aang?”

“I think so, but can we get back to the point? The point is that she said she’ll kill me if I make a wrong move or cause another accident, and it’s only a matter of time until that happens.”

Toph shakes her head. “Zuko, Katara might be a dunderhead right now, but she’s not a monster. She won’t kill you for an accident.”

“But she said she would.” Of course Toph isn’t taking him seriously. Toph is on their side, after all.

“Then she was bluffing.”

“No, she wasn’t!”

“She’s just better at it than Sokka.” Toph uncrosses her arms. “Look, let’s assume for a moment that you’re right—which you’re not!—and she does want to kill you. She still won’t do it, because I won’t let her.”

“I don’t think she’s going to put it to a vote. She’ll just drown me in the middle of the night and then probably deny she did it.”

“I would know she was lying.”

“And I would be dead anyway!”

“Calm down, Sparky. Perhaps you shouldn’t shout quite so loudly.”

He breathes deeply and lowers his voice. “Sorry.” He resumes pacing, just to have something to do. “Now do you agree that you should let me out of here?”

“No.”

“What? Have you been listening?”

“I have, and unlike you I’ve also been thinking.” She turns around to face him, probably just for his sake because it shouldn’t make any difference to her. “Aang needs you.”

“I know. I’ve been telling your friends that.”

“He’ll figure it out eventually.”

“I might be dead by then.”

“Well, you’d better not be.”

“That’s … That’s the worst advice anyone has ever given me.” Which is not exactly true, Azula has given him plenty of worse advice over the years, but still.

“Lie,” Toph says. 

“Besides, Aang doesn’t want to have anything to do with me anymore.”

She raises her eyebrows. “Because?”

Zuko inhales. Better to tell her, so she won’t get her hopes up concerning Aang. “Because I left the skeletons of his people lying around in the Southern Air Temple.”

“And he knows that because?”

“He saw them.”

Toph purses her lips. “Good job, Sparky.”

He groans. “I know.”

“He’ll get over it. As if Aang could ever hold a grudge.” She blows a strand of hair out of her face. “Sparky, I know this whole situation might be a bit uncomfortable for you—”

“A bit uncomfortable?!”

“Shush. The fate of the world depends on Aang defeating the Fire Lord—”

“I know.”

“—and if he messes it up, we’ll probably all die. Including you.”

Zuko doesn’t know what to say. She’s right, and he hates it. “Yeah.”

“So the decision isn’t ‘flee from here or die at Katara’s hands’, the decision is ‘flee and die at your father’s hands because Aang doesn’t know firebending or stay and try to teach him and maybe die at Katara’s hands.’ It’s not much of a choice when you think about it like that.”

… Damn, why do little girls always have to make so much sense? “I hate you.”

“Lie,” Toph says. “So do you agree that you should stay? Because even though I don’t think it would be a good idea for you to flee, it’s your decision. If you ask me to, I’ll let you go now.”

Zuko stops pacing and buries his face in his palms. Why does his destiny always have to be such a crushing weight on his shoulders that it’s close to shattering him to pieces?

Toph keeps on talking before he can reach a decision. “I’d refuse to trap you in rock again, I’d have refused from the beginning if I thought it would do you any good, but the thing with Katara is, the more you push her in one direction, the more intent she becomes on going the opposite way. Defying her outright never helped anyone, it’s better to try to convince her with rational reasons. Sokka and I are already working on it, just give her a few more days and she’ll come to her senses and stop this nonsense. Can you do that?”

Zuko rakes a hand through his hair. Why can’t his life ever be easy? “Fine,” he mumbles, “I’ll stay.”

“Good boy.”

“I hate you.”

Toph doesn’t even bother pointing out his lie. “I’ll let you move as often as I can while no one is watching, alright?”

Zuko would love to agree, but there’s a rather huge problem. “If Katara finds out, she’ll be furious with me.”

“No,” Toph says, “if anything, she’ll be furious with me. So don’t worry, okay? No one will blame you.”

He should continue arguing because that’s not how things work, but he’s too damn weak to stand his ground on that front. “Okay. But next time when someone’s about to come, don’t just trip me while I’m running.”

She grins. “It was funny, though.”

“You’re as evil as my sister.”

“Lie. Alright, I’ll give you a sign, like this.” She moves her hand and a boulder rises in the corner of the cell and then drops back into the floor. “And you can lie back down without me tripping you.”

Zuko sighs. “Okay.”

Toph cocks her head at his tone of voice. “What’s wrong, now?”

“Nothing.”

“Lie.”

He huffs in frustration. “I just hate this place. You wouldn’t understand.”

“Oh, I do. I was kept prisoner by my parents for twelve years. If there’s anything I can do to make this more bearable for you, just spit it out.”

“I’m—”

“Don’t say you’re fine. I can tell it’s a lie.”

Zuko groans. “This is so unfair.” Then he thinks about her offer, and does come up with something. If the children actually forgot his meals instead of starving him intentionally, then perhaps they aren’t depriving him of sunlight intentionally, either. Perhaps they just don’t know how important sunlight is for firebenders. It’s a risk, but … but Toph offered. They won’t interpret this as complaining, will they? “I … I miss the sun.”

“The sun?”

“Yeah. It’s a firebender thing. Firebending comes from the sun, you know? I know it sounds silly, but I feel … different, when I’m in the sunshine. Better, somehow.”

“It’s not silly,” Toph says, “bending is what it is. Hm, let me consider.” She is still for a moment, then starts gesturing with her left arm, and the cell wall adjacent to the side with the bars disappears into the ground, and more bars rise instead before he has time to reconsider fleeing. Zuko walks over, takes in the view across the canyon, feels the sun shine onto his face, warming his skin, and he drinks in Agni’s light until it’s filling his body and caressing his inner fire like a gentle kiss. He moans in relief.

“You sound like a dying cat-rat again.”

“Thanks, Toph. For the sun, I mean, not the insult.”

“It wasn’t an insult, just the truth. Lunchtime soon, Sparky, you should lie back down.”

Zuko forces his body to move, picks the sunniest spot on the floor, and lies down. The rock binding him makes something inside him want to scream in desperation, but he shuts it out with a well-practiced mental effort, and tries to pretend he’s just lying here voluntarily to sunbathe. It actually helps.

“By the way,” Toph says, “you stink of dried sweat. Maybe you should antagonize Katara so she’ll give you a shower.”

“You,” he replies, “are awful.”

“Lie.”

Chapter Text

The footsteps approaching make Zuko tense, because there’s only one person who treads this lightly. His breathing rate doubles without conscious input, as if his lungs want to perform as many breaths as possible before being denied to function anymore. He feels horribly exposed, unable to move as he is, and his head is close enough to the bars to be punched or kicked, just because that’s where the sun was an hour ago. He should reassess his priorities. If he lives long enough to reassess anything.

Aang stops in front of Zuko’s cell, his expression grave, and doesn’t say anything. He just stands there for twenty-eight of Zuko’s too-rapid breaths, looking down at him, before he finally breaks the silence.

“I wanted to apologize.”

Zuko blinks. “What?”

“I shouldn’t have shouted at you. I’m sorry for what I said.”

… This can’t be. Zuko deserves to be shouted at. He deserves Aang’s fury for the crimes of the Fire Nation, and for Zuko’s reluctance to at least burn the bodies.

“I should have understood,” Aang continues. “You just wanted to go home. And I didn’t take that seriously enough, because I also wanted to go home so badly, and I’ll never be able to.”

Zuko gulps. “It was not just because I wanted to find you quickly so I could go home.” He hesitates, and Aang gives him the time he needs to find the words. “What happened to your people … I didn’t want it to be real. I didn’t want to have to think about it. And I don’t even know what Air Nomads do with their dead—did with their dead—so I didn’t know what would be appropriate. And I didn’t want to think about why I didn’t know, about how none of your people were left. I just wanted to get out of there and not remember anything I saw. I was only thirteen.”

Aang is silent for a moment. “I understand.”

With his next exhale, Zuko tries to calm his heart rate, and then to get his breathing rate down to normal. He can’t help but wonder if this conversation is somehow Toph’s doing.

“Can you forgive me for what I said?” Aang asks.

“There is nothing to forgive.”

Aang smiles. “Thanks, Zuko.”

Operation: Get Out Of This Alive—Step 4: Save the world

The prince is sopping wet from head to toe. Again.

Sokka crosses his arms and leans against the bars, wishing not for the first time that he were a waterbender. It would make drying their prisoner so much easier. “What did you do, this time?”

Zuko tenses up. “Nothing!”

Of course. “Yeah,” Sokka says, “I guess I phrased it wrong. Why did Katara soak you this time, even though you didn’t do anything?”

“She didn’t. Not recently, anyway. Not since …” Zuko frowns. “Not since the day I tried to renegotiate the rules?” He seems surprised by his own statement.

“Then why are you wet?”

Zuko juts his chin forward. “What if I don’t tell you?” He’s so tense he looks like he expects to be kicked for that little bit of defiance. Not that Sokka can; his legs aren’t that long. Not that he wants to, either.

Sokka sighs. “Zuko, whatever it is, I won’t be mad at you. I’m just worried.” Having a conversation like this would be so much easier if neither of them were fettered to the ground.

“It’s not important.”

“Wait, did Aang do this?” It’s not like Aang to soak someone who can’t even move, but there are only two people capable of waterbending in this temple.

“No!”

“Then who did?”

Zuko inhales deeply. “Toph brought me some water to wash myself. And my clothes.”

“Oh.” Why didn’t Sokka ever think of doing that? Shit. He’s not a very good prison guard, is he? But Zuko never asked for water to wash, so it’s not entirely Sokka’s fault, right? “Then why didn’t you just tell me why you’re wet?”

Zuko chews his lip. “You might disapprove.”

Sokka facepalms so hard there has to be a red spot on his forehead. “Zuko, you are the weirdest person I have ever met. Of course I don’t disapprove of you washing your clothes, idiot! Do you want me to ask Katara to dry you?”

“No.”

Sokka isn’t surprised. “Okay. Just don’t catch a cold.”

“I’ll try.” Zuko takes calm, measured breaths, the way he usually does before asking for food or water, as if he needs to convince himself it’s okay to ask.

“Do you need anything?”

“Um … Yes, actually.” This is new. Zuko has never answered ‘yes’ to that question before. He chews his lip some more. “I … I need to talk to Aang.”

This is new and more than a little bit unsettling. In all the time he has been their prisoner, Zuko has never asked for Aang. It’s making something in Sokka’s belly squirm. “What about?” If this is about the corpses again, he won’t fetch Aang. Because last time, it took Katara half an hour of hugs and soft, soothing words to make Aang stop crying.

Zuko can’t look at him because he can’t move, so he stares straight at the ceiling. “Firebending.”

“Firebending?” Sokka repeats. “What about it?”

“I don’t want to explain it twice, can you just fetch him?”

Sokka can’t help it, as much as he has come to almost like the prince, this feels suspicious. Wasn’t the plan to keep Aang away from Zuko? “I don’t know, man.”

“Sokka, what do you think I’m going to do?” Zuko asks. “I can’t even move a finger. He’s the Avatar. I wouldn’t stand a chance of hurting him even if I intended to, which I don’t.”

“Well, you might, I don’t know, have some secret firebending trick …”

“There are no secret firebending tricks, and if there were, I wouldn’t know them, because they would be secret.” Uncanny logic, that. “Sokka, this is important. I need to talk to Aang, and it would be great if you could fetch Katara and Toph too, because otherwise this is not going to go anywhere.”

If Zuko has changed sides again like Katara feared, he wouldn’t want Katara and Toph nearby while he’s talking to Aang, would he? So he’s probably not lying, and it is important.

“Alright,” Sokka says.

He goes to find the others, and has to listen to Katara complaining about being summoned by the prince like a servant for the entire way back.

Zuko is still where he was when Sokka left, and does, in fact, not even move a finger when Aang sits down in front of the bars. Or maybe he does, his fingers aren’t visible, after all. But at least nothing bad happens.

“Hi Zuko!” Aang exclaims. He sounds cheerful, and not like they went apart in the middle of a dispute with one of them bawling his eyes out. “By the way,” Aang adds, tilting his head, “you’re wet.”

“I’m aware,” Zuko says.

“Do you want to be wet?”

“Uh … Not particularly?”

“Okay then.” Aang bends the water out of Zuko’s clothes and lets it drop into the canyon.

“Thank you,” Zuko says.

Sokka frowns. “Okay, what am I missing here? Did the two of you make up?”

“Yes,” Aang replies, beaming. “Yesterday.”

Sokka throws his hands up in despair. “Someone could have told me.”

“Um,” Zuko says. “Sorry. Aang, you need a firebending teacher.”

“I know.”

“I can teach you.”

Katara steps forward. “We’ve been over this, and we told you we don’t trust you. Have you ordered us here just to waste our time again?”

“Katara,” Sokka says, “give him a break.”

Zuko takes a deep breath. “I haven’t ordered you here, I have …” He seems to give up on discussing with Katara. Smart guy. “Aang, will you at least listen to what I have to say?”

Aang nods. “Okay. I’m listening.”

“Thank you. You need to defeat my—the Fire Lord before the arrival of Sozin’s comet. To defeat him, you need to master all of the elements, including fire. You’re unable to find anyone but me who will teach you firebending, and even if you do find someone, you won’t be able to trust them. Time is running out. You’re the Avatar, and you have an obligation to the world. So you have no other choice but to accept me as your teacher.”

“But we can’t trust you either,” Katara says.

“You don’t have to.”

She narrows her eyes. “What do you mean?”

“You don’t have to accept me into your group, and you don’t have to let me out of my cell, at least not for the basics, and you don’t have to … you don’t have to like me. But Aang needs to be taught, and I’m right here to teach him, and I don’t have anything else to do. Do you really think you’ll find another firebender who will agree to teaching the Avatar while being imprisoned by said Avatar’s friends? I’m your safest option.”

It makes an awful lot of sense. Since when is Zuko this competent at making a point, anyway? He must have rehearsed it. Probably spent the whole morning preparing for this talk. “Let’s assume we do,” Sokka says. “What’s in it for you?”

“Aang saving the world is what’s in it for me. I’m part of the world.”

“And?” Sokka says, because Zuko is doing that particular way of breathing again.

“… And I have one condition.”

“Which is?”

“No more fettering me to the ground all day. I want to be able to move.”

Katara crosses her arms. “Absolutely not. We’re doing this because you said fire is dangerous, and accidents are likely to happen. Therefore, no moving for firebenders.”

“Katara,” Toph says, “didn’t you say you decided to do this because you mistakenly believed he was planning an attack?”

Sokka could swear Katara is blushing. “Yes,” she grumbles, “but even so, Zuko himself said that firebenders are dangerous.”

“I know what I said. And, and it’s still true,” Zuko says. The prince really needs to work on his reasoning. “But when I start teaching Aang—”

“If you start teaching Aang,” Katara says.

“—he’ll be a firebender too. Are you going to cover his hands in rock all day?”

“Aang won’t cause accidents on purpose.”

Sokka clears his throat and holds up his lecturing index finger. “As far as I know, no one causes accidents on purpose. Isn’t that the definition of accident?” 

Zuko tries to glance at Aang out of the corner of his eyes. “If Aang loses control of the fire, I need to be able to put it out.”

Okay, maybe the prince doesn’t need to work on his reasoning.

Aang looks up at Katara. “Um, Katara. I think he’s right. Remember when I burned your hands? I don’t want to risk that again.”

“And I don’t want to risk him hurting you.”

“You can supervise,” Zuko says. “Our lessons, you can supervise them. And Toph, too, and Sokka, and Haru, and whoever else you want there. I’m alone, and in a prison cell. You have two earthbenders, a waterbender, a menace with a boomerang, and the Avatar. Are you seriously afraid you can’t cope with me?”

Sokka tries not to be too happy with himself for being a menace with a boomerang.

“I’m not afraid of you,” Katara says. Toph opens her mouth, but says nothing.

“Well, then,” Zuko says, “why are you acting like you are?”

Katara glares at him, which Zuko doesn’t see, because he’s watching the ceiling again. “Are you planning to abuse your freedom if we let you move?”

“No.”

“Are you planning to harm Aang?”

“No.”

“Are you planning to harm anyone else?”

“No.”

“Are you planning to escape?”

“No.”

Oh great. So everyone makes fun of Sokka’s questions, but Katara’s interrogation only consists of asking a hundred varieties of the same question, and no one makes fun of that.

“Are you planning anything?” Sokka helps out, to cut this short.

“Yes,” Zuko says, “to teach the Avatar firebending.”

“Are you planning—” Katara begins, and Sokka rolls his eyes, “—to teach him inadequately so he’ll fail when he confronts your father?”

Zuko frowns. “You have some really warped ideas, you know?”

Katara narrows her eyes at him. “Answer the question.”

“The answer is no. I promise that I will teach him to the best of my abilities.”

“Are you planning anything else apart from that?”

Sokka wishes he could roll his eyes even more than he’s already doing.

“No,” Zuko replies. “I mean, yes, I’m planning to move, because I can’t lie still anymore. But nothing else. I promise.”

“Toph?” Katara asks, finally out of are-you-planning questions.

“All true.” Toph smiles. “I think we should give him a chance.”

Sokka raises his hand. “Me too! What he said makes a lot of sense. From a scientific point of view, this is the best course of action.”

“But,” Katara says, “but just because he’s not planning anything now doesn’t mean he can’t change his mind later.”

Zuko sighs. “You can repeat your questions before every lesson if you feel you need to. Aang, this is about you. What do you think?”

Aang is silent for a long moment. “I owe the world,” he finally says, “I owe it to become a firebender. You know the risk of burning someone by accident, and I never want that to happen again. I think you should be my teacher.”

Zuko exhales audibly.

“And I’m sorry,” Aang continues, “I really am, but we still can’t trust you. Katara is not wrong, you might change your mind, the way you have done before. The people are counting on me, and I can’t let them down again. I owe the world to stay alive even more than I owe it to learn firebending. You can teach me, but you’re not part of the team, and you’re staying imprisoned. Are you sure this is acceptable to you?”

All eyes are on Zuko. If he says no, then … then they still won’t have a teacher for Aang, and Katara might insist on keeping Zuko fettered, and Sokka is getting really sick of that sight.

“Yes,” Zuko says. “I understand.” Sokka tries to keep his sigh of relief quiet enough that no one will hear.

Katara puts a hand on Aang’s shoulder. “Aang …”

“I have to do this. He’s right, we don’t have the time to find another teacher.”

Katara grimaces, and turns back to Zuko. “No firebending, is that clear? You can keep Aang from burning anything, but other than that, you’re not to use your bending.”

“I can’t properly teach without—”

“No bending, or you’re staying where you are.”

Sokka can see the muscles in Zuko’s jaw tense. “Alright,” Zuko says.

“And when we let you move,” Katara continues, “the other rule comes back into effect.”

Zuko’s clenched jaw is, impossibly, getting more clenched. “I know.”

“Um,” Sokka says. “What rule? Since Zuko wasn’t lying when he told us about his anger management problems—”

“They’re not anger management problems!” Zuko replies angrily, totally proving Sokka’s point.

“Since he wasn’t lying about … emotions-related slips of bending control, I think we should change rule number three to ‘no firebending unless he can’t help it.’ Anyone got a problem with that?”

“Nope,” Toph says. The rock fetters slide back into the ground, and Zuko sits up, flexing his fingers. Katara watches his every movement.

Zuko looks at her, and something seems to be communicated in their meeting gazes in a way that should be restricted to siblings and siblings alone. It’s not fair when other people communicate like this with Katara.

Finally, Zuko breaks their gaze and looks at Aang. “Your first lesson,” he says, getting to his feet, “starts tomorrow at sunrise. Firebending comes from the sun, and when it rises, so do we.”

Sokka huffs. “That sounds awful.”

“You can sleep in, if you want,” Zuko offers, as if Aang throwing fire around the place isn’t going to wake Sokka up. Oh, the woes of nightly babysitting duties.

Aang stands up too, and bows with that weird fist-palm gesture. “I’ll be there, Sifu Hotman.”

“I will not be called—”

“You don’t make the rules,” Katara says.

Zuko scowls. “Okay, call me whatever you want.”

“Good,” Sokka says, grinning. “Zuzu Hotman, congratulations on your new job.”

“You’re the worst.”

“Nah. I’m the menace with the boomerang! Which means I’m the best.”

“I’ve changed my mind. I don’t even want to learn firebending. Sorry, Zuko. I’ll go back to sleep n—”

“Wait, what do you mean? You’re the Avatar. You can’t just not learn firebending.”

“But firebending brings nothing but pain and destruction. Jeong Jeong said so.”

“Did he? I’m going to have words with him if I ever meet him. He can’t just go around scaring the Avatar off.”

“But he was right—”

“No, Aang, he was not. It’s a lesson I might never have learned if you hadn’t forced me to live without my bending, but it’s an important lesson. Fire can bring pain and destruction, but it can also bring warmth, and jasmine tea, and light in the darkness. Just like humans need water to drink, and air to breathe, and earth to stand on, we need fire to survive in the cold, and to cook food, and to make unclean water safe to drink. Fire can scare away dangerous animals and bake porcelain. Fire can cauterize wounds and sanitize bandages. So whether fire brings life or death depends on what you do with it, just like the other elements. Can you see that?”

“Yes, Sifu Hotman.”

“Good. So will you learn?”

“I will.”

“I already know how to breathe!”

“You still need to practice.”

“But I’m breathing all the time! I’ve been breathing for twelve years! One hundred and twelve years, to be exact, which is longer than you have ever breathed. I’m not saying we should do something dangerous instead, but just breathing is boring.”

“If it’s boring, you’re not concentrating enough. Do you want to learn firebending, or do you not want to learn?”

“I want to learn. But I don’t need to practice breathing. Jeong Jeong already made me breathe, and then he forgot that he’d told me to, so I did nothing but breathe for hours!”

“Jeong Jeong never forgets his students. My first teacher made me breathe for two whole days and the night between before he let me out of my stance. So if you don’t want me to make you do the same, you’ll stop complaining and start to breathe.”

“I can just leave whenever I want to.”

“I’m your teacher, and you have to do what I—”

“You’re our prisoner, and I can do what I want!”

“And what do you want?”

“… To learn firebending.”

“And what do you need to do to learn firebending?”

“… Listen to what my teacher says?”

“Then stop complaining and breathe.”

“I’m hungry.”

“Breathe.”

“Fire is like a wild animal. If you let it off the leash, it will stomp around and consume anything it can reach, so it is important not to let it off the leash. Which is why we will now practice controlling the fire, and then letting the control slip.”

“But you just told me not to—”

“You need to know what it feels like to lose control of the fire, so you’ll notice in time when you’re doing it. And you need to learn to regain control of the fire, which you can’t do if you don’t lose it first.”

“But … It’s scary.”

“I know. But I’m right here to make sure nothing happens, and Katara is right over there to rip my head off if I let you get hurt, so you’ll be fine. It’s just a candle. Close your eyes. Reach out … No, with your mind, not your hand. I’d show you, but I’m not allowed to, so … I said close your eyes! Reach out with your mind … Feel the flame … It’s alive, and it’s hungry, always hungry … Can you feel it? Good. Feel it … Breathe … And when you exhale, shrink the flame. Will it to be become smaller … Not bad, but now you’ve doused it completely. Katara?”

“What?”

“I need you to relight the candle. Thank you. Aang, again. Breathe … Take control of the flame …”

“Katara? The candle.”

“Katara? Can you …”

“Katara?”

“I’m not your servant, Zuko, do it yourself!”

“You said I’m not allowed to bend. And I don’t have spark rocks.”

“Just light the damned candle. No other firebending though, understood?”

“Yes, Master Katara.”

“Very good. Now let go of the flame, feel how it springs back to its original size … Did I say open your eyes?”

“Um, no?”

“Then don’t. Feel the candle flare back up.”

“Now with your breathing. Exhale, extend your control to shrink the flame. Inhale, retract your control.”

“Is that why you made me practice—”

“Shut up and do the exercise.”

“That was good. You did well today, Aang. Come back tomorrow at sunrise.”

“I will. Thank you, Sifu Hotman.”

“The pleasure was mine, Student Arrowhead.”

Fire. He’s allowed to have fire. Not his own, of course, only the fire needed for training Aang, and only while Katara supervises, but still. It’s hard to watch Aang meditate and keep himself from reaching out and taking the flame under his control instead. But he manages. At least he’s allowed to see the fire, to feel the little bit of warmth on his skin, to hear the wax sizzle, to smell the smoke. Agni, how he missed it.

Unfortunately, now that the children aren’t starving Zuko of his element anymore, they’ve gone back to starving him physically. Night is already falling and the hunger is eating him from the inside. He’s feeling jittery. How can he have gotten used to getting three meals a day in the one week he spent trapped in rock? Also, is the lack of meals connected to the children dropping their prison guard schedule because they don’t need to bring an earthbender with them anymore? Or is it because he wasn’t a threat while fettered to the ground, but now they need him to be weak again?

Maybe—No. He can’t just ask, can he? They’ll think he’s complaining, and then … Then what? Maybe he can ask Sokka. Sokka has never punished him for anything. And even Katara never punished him for asking for seconds. But asking for more isn’t as directly complaining as asking why they don’t give him anything.

Zuko’s stomach, unaware of any rules, complains audibly, helping him to decide. “Sokka?” he calls. “Uh … Are you—are you there?” Sokka mentioned he’ll relocate his customary sleeping place further away from Zuko’s cell so he won’t be as easily woken in the mornings, but apparently he’s still close enough to hear the calling.

“Yes?” Footsteps. Sokka doesn’t hesitate before entering Zuko’s field of view anymore, the way he used to. “Got a problem?”

Zuko shakes his head vehemently. “No. No, no, nothing like that.” His mouth is so dry. “I, uh … I was … just wondering. About something. And, and I’m not complaining or anything! I swear, this is just a theoretical question, no need to—to tell your sister, or …”

Sokka rolls his eyes. “Just spit it out.”

“Um … Yes. Uh …” Inhale. Exhale. “I was wondering, you know … Did you … not give me dinner on purpose, or did you … perhaps … forget?” Inhale. Exhale. “Lunch, too.”

Sokka blinks. Frowns. Opens his mouth. Closes it. Opens it again. “Does that mean you haven’t eaten since breakfast?”

“Um … Yes?”

“That’s …” Sokka looks at him with so much fury in his eyes that Zuko needs all of his willpower not to preemptively take a step backwards.

“That’s fine!” Zuko says hastily. “I wasn’t complaining, I wasn’t!”

“It’s not fine, are you nuts? Of course it wasn’t on purpose. I thought it was Haru’s turn for lunch and Katara’s for dinner. Or was it Toph’s? I don’t really remember. Anyway, they must have gotten it mixed up. Sorry.” He says it as if he’s actually sorry. As if the fury isn’t directed at Zuko. “This should never have happened. Not once, and definitely not twice.”

“It, uh …” No, better not to push his luck.

“What?” Sokka asks.

Okay, back to pushing his luck, then. “It hasn’t only happened twice.”

Sokka squints at him. “What do you mean?”

“Um … Nothing. It just … It happened pretty regularly, before … before the trapped-in-rock episode. And uh, yesterday too.”

“What? I mean, I’m aware Katara and I once messed it up, but … but that was one time. Shit. Shit, man. Why didn’t you tell us?”

Zuko doesn’t know what to say, and he doesn’t know what to do with his hands. He clutches them behind his back. “I’m not allowed to complain.”

“Why wouldn’t you be?” Sokka seems genuinely confused. “That’s not in the rules. Don’t shout for help, don’t insult anyone, don’t firebend unless you can’t help it; those are the rules. And frankly, I don’t care about the insults anymore, because your insults aren’t any good anyway.”

Either Sokka is a far better actor than the ones on Ember Island, or he really doesn’t know about Katara and her rules. The one outspoken rule that will get Zuko killed if he makes a single mistake and that her gaze said is definitely in effect, no matter what Sokka says; plus the multitude of unspoken ones he has to figure out by himself by analyzing what he might have done wrong every time she gets mad because of some unknown slight. Luckily—or unluckily—her unspoken rules are close to Father’s, so they’re not too hard to guess. And ‘don’t complain’ is one of them.

“Did Katara say you’re not allowed to complain?” Sokka asks.

“No.”

“Then who did?”

“No one.” It’s not a lie. No one ever said as much. The lesson was clear, anyway.

Sokka rubs his temples. “Never mind. I give you my official permission to complain, okay? If we ever forget you again, just call for us. Promise?”

“Um …” Zuko’s stomach rumbles far too loudly, and Sokka’s face twitches. “I can’t just—”

“Yes,” Sokka interrupts him, “you can. I’m really really sorry we messed it up, and I swear to you, it was not on purpose.”

“But what if Katara—”

“Katara won’t soak you for not wanting to starve, man. Why did you think there’s always enough food left for you to have seconds? It’s because Katara started cooking larger amounts ever since the first time you asked for more and we didn’t have any leftovers.”

“She … what?” Zuko wants to say more, but his stomach beats him to it.

This time, Sokka’s entire body twitches. “Okay, you know what? We can keep on discussing this after I get you something to eat. I’ll be right back.”

Zuko can hear him actually running away. Well. This conversation could have gone a lot worse.

It’s hard to teach Aang with Katara breathing down Zuko’s neck. What if the boy makes a mistake and burns himself? What if Zuko forgets an important lesson, advances too quickly, and Aang isn’t ready? What if his own bending, suppressed for far too long, breaks free? Even with an experienced teacher, there is always a risk to firebending—and Zuko is not an experienced teacher.

But there’s no room for mistakes when the smallest slip-up will get him killed.

He has to think everything through. Everything might be a trap. Like Katara telling him to light the candle himself, even though Aang and the candle are positioned safely out of Zuko’s reach—he can easily light it anyway, of course, every child can light a candle, he doesn’t need to touch it … but if he shoots a flame from his finger in the general direction of the Avatar, it will surely be the last thing he ever does. So he always asks Aang to hand him the candle and pinches the wick to light it. He won’t let himself get tricked into making a fatal mistake.

Zuko looks at the candle, sits up straighter, lets the thoughts drift out of his mind, and focuses back on the meditation. He’s not allowed to link the flame to his breathing, so he synchronizes his breathing with the flame instead, trying not to be too obvious about it. Thankfully, Aang keeps the fire growing and shrinking in a steady rhythm. The sun is already high in the sky, Zuko’s time with Aang and the flame almost up.

Before he can reach a state of calm again, Katara steps close, her waterskin already open, ready to strike, the way it always is during his lessons. She scowls at him. “You’re not fooling anyone, you know?”

Instantly, his breathing is out of sync. Probably for the best. “I did nothing wrong!”

“Our bargain was that you’ll teach Aang.”

“I am teaching him.”

Aang looks from Katara to Zuko and back again with big, round eyes. “I mean, he’s teaching me right now, isn’t he?”

She shakes her head. “No. He’s just sitting there, staring at the fire.”

“We’re not just sitting there,” Zuko objects against better judgment. “We’re meditating.”

“Instead of meditating you should teach Aang how to use firebending to defend himself, and how to use it to defeat your father. If that’s not something you’re willing to do, then the bargain is rescinded.”

Zuko clenches his teeth. He told her he’ll teach to the best of his abilities, and not to protect his father. “Meditation is an important lesson for—”

“It’s a lesson Aang already mastered two days ago. Haven’t you, Aang?”

Aang bites his lower lip. “I ... I guess?”

“It’s not something you can master,” Zuko says, “and then never do it again. Flame meditation is an integral part of being a firebender, everyone from beginner to master has to do it regularly, it helps to nurture and to tame our inner fire and keep the bending under control.”

“Whatever,” Katara says. “I don’t mind you doing it regularly so long as it’s not the only thing you teach Aang. Tomorrow, you will start teaching him properly.”

“But I am teaching him properly!” His temper must be getting the better of him again because he knows that ‘no talking back’ is one of her unspoken rules.

“Um,” Aang says. “Zuko, when you say every firebender has to do that meditation regularly, does that … include you?”

“Since I said every firebender, obviously it does!”

Aang blinks. “And, um. Is it sufficient if we do it together and you use my candle?”

Zuko rolls his eyes. “What do you think? Of course it isn’t! I need to breathe with the fire and we can’t both take control of the same candle, how would that even work?”

Katara takes another step closer to Zuko, towering over him. “Are you saying that your so-called inner fire is untamed and uncontrolled and you didn’t tell us we could make everyone here safer simply by giving you a candle?”

Zuko scowls and looks away. “Well, it’s not like you cared, you said I’m not allowed to bend and flame meditation is technically bending, and you’re not letting me have fire anyway.”

Katara sighs heavily. Great, now she’s mad at him again. “Zuko, we made that rule so that you wouldn’t hurt anyone, and not to increase the risk of you hurting anyone.” And here he was, thinking they made that rule to hurt him. “Is that lack of proper meditation hampering your teaching skills?”

“Didn’t you listen?” he snaps back because his mouth never knows what is good for him. “Obviously it is! How am I supposed to concentrate on acquainting Aang with fire while you’re depriving me of fire?”

Katara glares at him. “Why didn’t you tell us?”

“Because,” he yells, and barely manages not to jump to his feet in exasperation, “because the last time I thought it was a good idea to tell you about firebending and control problems, you had me fettered to the ground all day!” He breathes heavily and waits for the punishment. He’s not allowed to yell at her, and he’s not allowed to talk back, and he just made the same mistake again and why can’t he ever learn to keep his problems to himself, damn it?

There’s another one of Katara’s heavy sighs. “If Toph confirms what you just said, you’ll get your own candle, and I expect you to use it as much as is necessary to ‘tame your inner fire.’ Do you agree to do that?”

“What?” Why isn’t she attacking him? “Um … Yes? Of course?”

“And if you use that candle to hurt anyone, you’ll regret it.”

“I won’t,” he says quickly. “I mean I won’t use it to hurt anyone. Why would I even do that? I’m no more dangerous with a candle than without a candle.”

“Good. And in turn,” she says, and Zuko stops breathing because here comes the punishment, “you will start teaching Aang how to use firebending in offense and defense, and not just how to breathe. Understood?”

Zuko bows his head. “Yes, Master Katara.” So no punishment? Or is she just saving it for later? For when Aang isn’t here to witness everything and possibly intervene?

“And stop calling me that.”

“Yes, M—Okay.”

… So much for taking it slow and making sure Aang is ready for the next lesson before advancing into dangerous territory. Why did he agree to this?

Chapter Text

Zuko never gets a chance to test how the rest of the group reacts to food complaints because Sokka practically hovers over him, making sure Zuko gets enough to eat, even bringing him snacks in between the regular meals, chatting with him, letting him pet Momo, and never once getting mad at Zuko for anything.

It’s too good to be true. There has to be a catch somewhere, some unspoken rule that will make Zuko’s life unbearable again, and he’s constantly on edge trying to figure out what it is. He even starts carefully annoying Sokka on purpose to find the limits of the boy’s goodwill—nothing too bad, of course, he doesn’t have a death wish, he just wants to map out the lines he’s not allowed to cross—and he doesn’t find those limits. Sokka doesn’t get mad when Zuko complains about being imprisoned, or talks back, or yells, or asks questions Katara would classify as ‘silly.’ Zuko even starts teasing him and Sokka still doesn’t get mad. No, he just responds in kind and seems to enjoy their conversations. Weird.

Operation: Get Out Of This Alive—Step 5: Save your nemesis’ father

Sokka has apparently lost any remnants of his fear that Zuko is going to burn him, because he’s lounging around in front of the bars. Has been for an hour already. He’s not even saying much, or asking Zuko to say anything, he’s just … there.

It’s nice to have company.

Even with training Aang in the mornings, and working out when no one’s watching, the day gets boring very quickly whenever Sokka goes on a hunting trip. Toph rarely hangs around to just chat, probably too busy training Aang and Haru, and Aang never gets close unless Katara supervises, probably because she told him not to.

Zuko takes a sip from his waterskin, even though he’s already had so much water he’s not the least bit thirsty anymore, before closing it and clutching it to his chest again. It’s his third possession after the parka and the candle and he’s not going to take his hands off it anytime soon. They might still change their minds and decide he hasn’t earned a third possession yet, so he has to enjoy it while it lasts.

“By the way,” Sokka starts, “how long did you practice that little speech about needing to teach Aang?”

Zuko glowers at him. “You’re only asking so you can make fun of me.”

“Possibly,” Sokka answers with a grin.

But Sokka is also the one who gave him the waterskin and two extra snacks just today, so Zuko owes him. “An entire evening, half the night and all of the morning. Happy?”

Sokka’s grin gets wider. “How many more counter-arguments were you prepared for?”

“All fourteen I could think of.”

“Wow. Not bad, buddy.” Surprisingly, he sounds sincere. “You could actually make a decent Fire Lord one day.”

“Now you are making fun of me.”

“I’m not,” Sokka says, holding up his hands. “I swear.” He’s not laughing, so … so maybe he really means it? Conversations with Sokka are weird these days.

Zuko scoots a bit to the left so the rays of the evening sun are back on his face. With two sides of his prison made up of bars instead of walls, it feels less like a cell and more like a cage. Which is not exactly an improvement in itself, but the sun makes up for it, and the view across the canyon too. Except when Appa, Aang and Teo are enjoying themselves, and watching them fly around makes Zuko so acutely aware of his own lack of freedom.

“Have you ever been imprisoned?”

“No,” Sokka says. “Is it as bad as it looks?”

“It’s worse.”

“What, even with us?”

Zuko raises an eyebrow at him.

“I mean, even now? Now that you don’t think you have to starve just because we’re too stupid to properly coordinate?”

Zuko raises his eyebrow higher.

“What?” Sokka asks, pushing himself up on his elbows. “Please tell me we haven’t overlooked anything else that is vital to you. You have food and water and sunlight and fire. What am I missing?”

“… Freedom?”

“Oh,” Sokka says. “Yeah.” He hesitates. “I’m afraid that’s not really compatible with being imprisoned.”

“Oh, really? Who would have thought?” Zuko thinks he’s pretty good at the sarcasm thing by now. “And also …”

“Also what?”

Damn. He shouldn’t have said anything. Complaining is one thing, but complaining about Sokka’s sister? Another thing altogether.

“Zuko, what were you going to say?”

Zuko sighs. “… Katara.”

Sokka flops back down. “Point taken. Katara can be scary, can’t she?”

“… Indeed,” Zuko says, not daring to add anything else.

“And you haven’t even seen her at her scariest. I’ll never forget seeing her bloodbend.”

Zuko wishes he could unhear that statement. “Bloodbend?!”

“Yeah, she can just, you know …” Sokka holds his arms at a weird angle. “Bend your blood to take control of your body, and she can make you do anything. That old woman once did it with me, tried to make me kill Aang, it was horrifying.”

Zuko’s throat is suddenly as dry as the Si Wong desert despite all the water he’s drunk. Katara could make him jump into the abyss, or make him bang his head against the wall until his skull splits open, or—

“Uh …” Sokka says. “The look on your face tells me I shouldn’t have told you about that. Calm down, buddy. She hasn’t ever used that technique apart from saving me and Aang from that woman, and I don’t think she ever will. She didn’t even want to learn it, you know?”

Which doesn’t change the fact that she has learned it, and now she can use it against Zuko whenever she feels like it, and just because she hasn’t yet, doesn’t mean she won’t.

“Hey, Zuko?” Sokka snaps his fingers in Zuko’s line of sight. “Will you calm down now? Katara would never bloodbend you. Okay?”

He’s waiting for a reply, so Zuko has to say something. “M-hm.” It’s the most non-committal reply he can think of.

“She’s not a bad person, you know,” Sokka says.

“M-hm,” Zuko repeats, scratching at a patch of dirt on his sleeve to avoid meeting Sokka’s gaze. Maybe he should … tell Sokka about her death threats? But how will Sokka react? He’ll probably complain to Katara. And then what will she do? She hasn’t made a rule about Zuko telling other people that she might kill him, but it seems like the kind of thing she’d be angry about anyway. Or maybe Sokka won’t even believe him; after all, Toph didn’t take him seriously either.

“She’s always there for everyone on the team,” Sokka says. “And also for people not on the team. Whenever she sees an injustice, she does everything within her abilities to help.” Which doesn’t help Zuko when Katara sees his pure existence as an injustice, but Sokka wouldn’t understand that. “She does most of the work around camp,” Sokka continues, “and always has an open ear for people’s problems anyway. She can be really caring when she’s not, like, super angry at you.”

“I know. She offered to heal my scar, back in Ba Sing Se.”

“Yeah,” Sokka says, “she mentioned that. And the fact that you thanked her by attacking her and Aang.”

Zuko drops his head into his hands. “Why do you have to remind me?”

“You started the conversation.”

“… I know.”

They sit in silence for a while, and Zuko tries not to ponder the question why he has to be so damned stupid. It’s no good. The question is like a feral shirshu, tracking him down wherever he goes, paralyzing him with its poisonous tongue.

He strokes the waterskin with tender fingers, marveling at the smooth surface of the leather, the delicate stitching, the reassuring weight of the water, promising hours upon hours upon hours without thirst. He doesn’t deserve something as nice as this, not after everything he’s done. No doubt Katara will demand he hand the waterskin over when she finds out Sokka has given it to him. If he’s lucky, she might not even punish him for accepting it in the first place.

Not that he’s ever lucky.

“You know who’s imprisoned?” Sokka asks.

“Hm?”

“My dad. We tried to invade the Fire Nation on the Day of Black Sun, and failed. Appa can only carry so many … We had to leave Dad and everyone else behind.” Sokka sighs. He’s staring up at the ceiling, but Zuko can see the pain on his face anyway. “And it’s my fault, because it was my plan.”

“What happened to them?”

“I was hoping you might know.” So that’s why Sokka started this topic.

“He’s a chief, right?”

“Yeah. The best chief our tribe ever had.”

Zuko doesn’t think it prudent to point out that Sokka is probably not being objective about this. “They wouldn’t put a chief into some random prison camp. He’d be somewhere high-security.”

“Like where?” Sokka is looking at him now, and there’s hope written all over his face.

“I don’t know. There’s a prison not too far from here, it’s called the Boiling Rock. No one has ever escaped from there. Maybe that’s where they sent him.”

Sokka sits up properly. “The Boiling Rock?”

“It’s on a volcanic island, and surrounded by a lake of boiling hot water. Perfect against break-outs.”

“Tell me everything.”

“Um,” Zuko says. “You’re not going to do anything stupid, are you?”

“I never do anything stupid. I only do smart things.”

Sure. Smart things like attacking a Fire Nation ship full of soldiers all on his own, without even being a bender. “And what kinds of smart things are you currently thinking of?”

“Lots. My brain is ideal for thinking.”

Zuko narrows his eyes. “You’re planning something.”

“Nope.”

“You’re planning to rescue your father.”

Sokka scowls. “So what?”

“So what? The Boiling Rock is inescapable! You can’t just walk in there and pick up your father like a lost pet!”

“Then you’d better tell me everything you know about the place so I can come up with a better plan.”

“No.” Zuko is not really in the position to deny information, but he can’t just let Sokka walk to his doom, and Sokka wouldn’t … Sokka wouldn’t actually hurt him to get at the information, would he?

“Look, I’m going to go anyway. You can either help me, or you can decide not to help me, but I’ll go rescue Dad.”

For the first time, Zuko realizes just how much Sokka and Katara are alike when they have set their minds on something. “And what good is it going to do your dad if you’re languishing in prison too?”

“None,” Sokka says. “But it’s my fault he’s there, and I have to at least try. You wouldn’t understand.”

It’s an offhanded comment, but it feels like a blow. No, he wouldn’t understand. If it were Father in that prison … Zuko wouldn’t be so intent on breaking him out.

“Katara won’t be happy,” Zuko says. “None of the others will. They won’t let you go.”

“I don’t have to tell them. I’ll just leave.”

“Then I will tell them.”

Sokka glares. “I forbid you to do that.”

“What if I don’t care?” As soon as the words are out, Zuko holds his breath. He is becoming incautious, all the nice conversations he’s had with Sokka have lulled him into a false sense of security, but this is still a prison cell, and Sokka can still harm him, can decide to stop providing Zuko with extra food, or demand Zuko give his three possessions back, or even team up with Katara.

Sokka glares harder, opens and closes his mouth a few times, and then settles on, “I wouldn’t be very happy with you.” He rubs his temples. “Zuko, I don’t want to threaten you, but I will go rescue Dad and I won’t let you keep me from doing it.”

“… Is that a threat or is it not?”

“It’s not,” Sokka says, and some of the tension leaves Zuko’s shoulders. “But I’m still forbidding you to tell anyone. It will only worry the others, and I’ll find a way to go anyway.”

“But you can’t just go alone!”

“This is getting us nowhere,” Sokka says. “Zuko, whatever you do or don’t do, I will go to the Boiling Rock. Do you want me to return?”

As if that was ever the question. “Of course.”

Sokka examines him as if assessing whether he’s telling the truth. “Okay. Then tell me everything you know.”

Zuko sighs. He has lost, and he knows it. “I have conditions.”

“Fine. Let’s hear them.”

“Number one: you’ll make a proper plan before you go.”

“I always do.”

“Number two: you’ll spend at least one day coming up with ideas to improve your plan before you go.” Because Zuko is pretty sure this is not something Sokka usually does.

“My plans don’t need improvements,” Sokka says.

“It’s one of my conditions anyway. Do you agree to the condition?”

Sokka rolls his eyes. “Fine.”

“Number three,” Zuko says, taking a deep breath to steel his nerves, “you’ll take me with you.”

“Zuko …”

It sounds like a ‘no,’ but it wasn’t yet, and he won’t accept a ‘no’ anyway. “I know, I’m your prisoner, blah blah, you can’t trust me … Sokka, walking into that place alone is just foolish. You need my help.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“No, you won’t. You’ll get caught.”

Sokka grins. Actually grins. “Hey, you tried to catch us for ages, and you never managed. Now look who caught whom?”

“Are you being insufferable on purpose?”

“It’s just fun to rile you up.”

Zuko scowls, but more to play along than out of real anger. Sokka is right about Zuko’s inability to catch the Avatar, after all. “Oh, great. Use me as entertainment.”

“I don’t need you for that. I’m the king of entertainment myself.”

If Sokka wants a battle of teasing, he can have one. “You’re nothing but the son of the wannabe king of a decrepit village I could melt to the ground in under five minutes.”

“… Says Ex-Prince Zuzu of the Jerkbender Nation.—Hey! No hitting!”

“There was no rule about not hitting you.”

“Well, there is now.” Sokka pulls his legs out of hitting range, rubbing his shin. It must be mostly for show, because Zuko hasn’t hit him that hard. He’s not a complete idiot, doing anything Sokka might mistake for an actual attack. “I accept conditions one and two,” Sokka continues, “and I’d be grateful for any information you share with me based on that, but I’m going to go without you.”

Why does Sokka have to be so spirits-damned stubborn? He’s going to end up in a cell, and then Zuko’s best ally will be gone, and Katara will say it’s Zuko’s fault, and—and even irrespective of what they’ll do to Zuko then, he just doesn’t want Sokka to get imprisoned. Not Sokka. “I won’t try to escape,” Zuko says, “and I won’t betray you, I won’t blow your cover, I won’t push you into a cell and leave you there, I just want to help!”

“Zuko …”

“I’ll let you imprison me again as soon as we get back here, I won’t put up a fight and I won’t try to run and I won’t even complain, you have my word on that.”

Sokka sighs. “That’s not—”

“I can repeat that in front of Toph if you want.”

“Zuko, I won’t take you with me.”

Zuko clenches his teeth. “Because you don’t trust me?” This is what it comes down to, isn’t it? He’s just not trustworthy enough. Uncle trusted him and it landed him in prison, Katara trusted him and it got her lover almost killed, Toph trusted him and had her feet burned. No wonder Sokka is not taking any chances.

“Partly because—for very understandable reasons that are your own fault!—I don’t entirely trust you,” Sokka says. “But mostly because, if they catch us, they’ll hand you over to your father.”

Zuko’s chest suddenly feels too tight to inhale properly. They would definitely do that, and it would not end well for him. “So? Why do you care?”

“Because …” Sokka shrugs. “Because I just care.”

It’s late afternoon, and Sokka has already spent the whole day and a good part of last night coming up with a plan based on Zuko’s information and then improving that plan, and has finished preparing his rescue attempt. Now he doesn’t have anything to do but wait for the night, and he’s feeling half nervous and half excited for seeing Dad, and feeling very much like talking to someone. So, he goes to visit the only person who can be relied upon also not to have anything to do.

The prince is sitting cross-legged on the floor, meditating, and for once not chasing the sun around his cell because it’s raining. He looks even more rigid than he usually does while meditating, and the flame of the candle is growing and shrinking, growing and shrinking. Madness. This is so unnatural.

“Am I interrupting anything?” Sokka asks, flopping down.

Zuko opens one eye just a crack. “Very funny.”

“If you’re free—”

“I’m imprisoned.”

“Hey, that was a joke! You’re getting better.” Sokka grins. “If you have time, wanna do something?”

“Do what?”

“I don’t know. Tell me a story?”

Now both of Zuko’s eyes are open. “What kind of story?”

“Any kind. A Fire Nation story. Don’t you have any?”

“Um. I don’t know.”

“Come on.” Sokka takes out a bag of nuts he collected when his latest hunting trip didn’t yield anything. “I even brought snacks.” He throws the bag through the bars, and it lands two feet from Zuko’s knees.

Zuko, for some reason, doesn’t react. Which is weird. Because Zuko is always hungry.

“Um,” Sokka says. “Is something wrong?”

“What? No.”

Sokka waits, but the prince still doesn’t move.

“If you don’t want the nuts, give them back. I’ll eat them.”

“I want them,” Zuko says.

Sokka watches him expectantly until Zuko leans forward, carefully, as if fearing the bag will bite, and grimaces. The flame flickers.

“What’s wrong?” Sokka repeats.

“Nothing,” Zuko says, his face back to a neutral mask now, and pulls the bag of nuts towards himself.

“Then why did you look like you’re in pain?”

“I’m not.”

Sokka starts to understand how Toph’s truth-reading still worked when she couldn’t use her feet. “That was such an obvious lie even I could tell.”

“It’s just …” Zuko looks around as if he thinks he’ll find an explanation somewhere across the canyon. “Just a headache.”

“A headache. Sure.” Sokka rubs his face. “We’ve been over this, Zuko. You can tell me what happened. I won’t get mad, okay?” At least not at Zuko, but he decides it’s better not to add that.

Zuko’s gaze flickers to Sokka before settling back on the canyon. “Nothing happened.”

“Zuko, please. I thought we had developed some kind of …” Trust, gets stuck on his tongue. “I thought we had developed something. I don’t want you to be in pain.”

Zuko glances at him again, still as rigid. “Like I said, it’s just a headache.”

The lie isn’t any more convincing the second time. What now? If reasoning with Zuko doesn’t work … There’s only one other tactic Sokka can think of. He gets to his feet. “Stand up.”

“What?”

“Stand up,” he orders in his best commanding voice, “and repeat to my face that it’s just a headache.”

Zuko looks up helplessly. “I’d rather sit.”

“No. You’ll stand up now, or you’ll tell me what’s wrong.”

“Nothing’s wrong.” Zuko takes a deep breath and gets to his feet like a man five times his age. His teeth are clenched, and his hand darts halfway towards his chest before he catches himself.

It does not look like nothing. Sokka crosses his arms. “I will ask one more time, and you will tell me the truth, or I’ll go get Toph and pester you with questions until you run out of lies. What. Is. Wrong?”

“I …” Zuko looks away. “I think I might have a cracked rib. It’s not important.”

“Are you kidding me?! A cracked rib is always important!” Sokka steps closer. “How did that happen?”

Zuko still doesn’t look at him. Which is not reassuring. “It was my own fault.”

“What did you do?”

“I, uh … I’d rather not—”

“You,” Sokka says, pointing a finger at the prince, “you will tell me, right now.”

“There’s nothing to tell.”

“I command you to tell me.”

“But it’s nothing!”

Sokka hates to do this, but Zuko is in pain, and Sokka can’t think of other ways to make him talk. “You will tell me or I’ll fetch Katara and then we’ll see how long you can keep her from finding out the truth.”

Zuko’s jaw drops open in horror and the flickering flame becomes more erratic. “You wouldn’t—”

“Try me,” Sokka says. He feels awful and tries to disguise that with a scowl.

Apparently, it looks real enough to Zuko’s eyes. “I was training Aang. And … and I showed him how to move from the basic stance to the position for a fire-jab. And …”

“And?”

“I didn’t use my bending, but I … I made the jab in Aang’s direction …”

Sokka doesn’t like where this is going. “And?”

“Katara mistook it for an attack on the Avatar.”

“And?”

“She, uh … she … defended him. Which is totally understandable! Like I said, it was my fault. I just, uh … hit the wall at a bad angle.”

Sokka pinches the bridge of his nose. “Katara whacked you against the wall and broke your rib and you’re telling me it’s nothing?”

“It might just be bruised.”

“No. We’re not doing this. Absolutely not. I’ll go get her.”

“Don’t, she will—Hey, wait! Stop! Sokka, don’t! Please!”

Sokka is already stomping off, though. This prince is ridiculous. ‘It’s my own fault’—whoever taught Zuko that everything is his fault has to be the worst person on the planet. Unfortunately, Sokka has an inkling he already knows who that person is. Because it’s obvious when you take into account all of the hints, and subtract the unlikely options. Because last time Zuko had his nightmare, he talked quite a lot. Because after the please and the don’t and the I am loyal, there was also the word Father.

“Katara.” She’s in the middle of cooking dinner with Teo when he arrives, but stops stirring when she hears his tone. “You need to heal Zuko.”

She sighs. “What, has he gotten himself a splinter in the finger?”

“No. He has a broken rib.”

Katara looks up sharply at that. “How did he manage to break his rib?”

“Do you remember when you thought Zuko was attacking Aang today?”

“Sokka, you don’t need to advocate for him, you know I’ll heal him anyway. And Toph already questioned him and confirmed he wasn’t trying to attack. So how did he break his rib?”

He just looks at her. She still doesn’t get it. “I thought you’re smart enough to figure it out on your own.”

“Figure out wha—wait, are you saying I broke his rib?”

“That’s what I’m saying.” Sokka takes the cooking spoon out of her hand when she’s just standing there, staring at him in horror, and pushes the spoon into Teo’s hand.

“But, but …” Katara stammers. “But he didn’t say anything!”

“Of course he didn’t. He’s Zuko. Teo, can you take care of the dinner?”

“Sure.”

Katara is already hurrying to the fountain to refill her waterskin, and Sokka follows.

“We need Toph,” she says, “or Haru, or Aang.”

They find Haru first.

When they return to the prison cell, Zuko is standing in the corner of the two solid walls, as far away from everyone as he can get.

“Zuko,” Katara says, brows furrowed. “Sokka says I broke your rib.”

“I didn’t complain!” Zuko replies, his voice higher than normal. “I didn’t even mean to tell him. I swear, he kept pestering me and—and threatening me, otherwise I wouldn’t have told anyone.”

Why is Sokka even surprised that this is the first thing out of Zuko’s mouth? “Yeah, that’s not reassuring, buddy.”

Katara opens her waterskin, and Zuko flinches violently, and then presses a hand to his ribcage, grunting.

“I’m sorry, Zuko,” she says. “I’ll have to have a look at that.”

“No. I’m fine. There’s no problem. I’ll go on teaching Aang.”

“Oh no, you won’t.”

Zuko’s eyes widen, and Sokka feels like facepalming because of course Zuko would read a threat into a statement like that.

“I mean,” Katara adds, apparently having come to the same conclusion, “not like this. Lie down.”

Zuko doesn’t move out of his corner. He looks like a trapped polar fox-hare afraid of ending up as a new pair of mittens, and the flame on the candle flares with each of his breaths, flickering and dancing and growing and growing.

Haru stares at the candle, his foot sliding to the side to get closer to an earthbending stance. “Stop messing with the fire!”

“I …” Zuko blinks and looks at the candle. Panic flashes over his face, and the fire flares higher. “S-Sorry.” He closes his eyes for a moment and exhales, and the flame disappears.

“Zuko, just lie down,” Sokka repeats. Why has no one ever taught him how to keep a scared firebender from panicking so much he accidentally sets something on fire? “Stop panicking, calm down, and let Katara help. She can heal you.”

“Heal me? Why would she heal me?”

“Um,” Sokka says. “Because you need to be healed?” Does Zuko need everything spelled out for him?

“I’m fine. It’s nothing.”

Katara rolls her eyes. “Don’t be ridiculous, it’s not nothing.”

“It’s probably just bruised.”

“Then let me check if it’s just bruised.”

Zuko opens and closes his mouth several times, apparently out of arguments. “I’d rather not.”

“Why not? What’s wrong with you?” Katara asks, throwing up her hands. “I can help. You’ll be out of pain in no time.”

Sokka nudges her with his elbow, because that’s another one of those sentences Zuko will manage to misinterpret as a threat. She looks at him, not understanding. So it’s up to him to rescue the situation again. Typical. “Out of pain,” he says, “as in ‘alive and out of pain,’ Zuko. Not ‘out of pain because you’re dead.’”

Katara looks at Sokka in horror, understanding finally dawning on her face. “That’s what I meant. I’ll heal you, Zuko, and you’ll feel better.”

Zuko shakes his head vehemently. “No, it’s not that bad. I can cope. I can go on teaching. I won’t be a burden, I swear! I’ll still be useful.”

Sokka feels like pinching the bridge of his nose again. “We don’t want to heal you so that you’ll be useful. We want to heal you so that you’ll be healed.”

“But I don’t want to be healed.”

It’s not making any sense. “Why?” Sokka asks. “Why don’t you want to be healed?”

“Because … Because …”

“Because?”

Zuko looks from Sokka to Katara to Haru and finally to the floor. “It’ll make it worse,” he mumbles.

Katara glares at the prince. “I’m not that incompetent a healer!”

“I didn’t mean to imply that you are.”

“Then why would healing make it worse?”

Zuko doesn’t reply, though. He just shakes his head again. Katara glances at Sokka helplessly, and he shrugs. Why should he know how to handle difficult patients? She’s the expert.

“If you don’t have any reasonable objections,” she says, “lie down.”

She may as well not have said anything. The prince doesn’t move.

“Please, Zuko. Let me make it up to you.”

Zuko shakes his head, eyes wild.

“Please,” she repeats. “I can’t just let you stay like this. I promise nothing will go wrong with the healing. I’ve healed broken bones before.”

Sokka thinks this might not have been the best thing to say, because he’s not even sure Zuko is fearing something will go wrong. But he has no idea what Zuko is fearing. “Are you worried the healing process will hurt?” Sokka asks. “Katara, does the healing process hurt?”

She shakes her head. “It shouldn’t. Maybe a little bit, but definitely less than keeping a broken rib.”

“I’m not worried about that,” Zuko says.

Sokka is out of ideas. “Then what are you worried about?”

“I … Just …” He doesn’t finish his sentence.

Katara takes a deep breath and slips into her commanding voice. Hers is much more convincing than Sokka’s. “Look, either give me a good reason why I shouldn’t heal you, or lie down.”

Zuko does neither.

“I’m going to say this one last time,” Katara says. “Lie down.”

He still doesn’t.

With an annoyed grunt, Katara bends the water from her waterskin into a whip attached to her arm, coils it around Zuko’s torso and drags him onto the floor. A strangled gasp escapes his mouth.

“Sorry,” she says, grimacing, “this would have hurt less if you’d done it yourself. Haru, can you take over?”

The floor rises to catch Zuko’s kicking feet and hold them.

“Put your arm over your mouth,” Katara orders. “And stop struggling. You’re hurting yourself.”

Zuko doesn’t do either, so Katara’s water whip snatches his right wrist and pulls his arm over his face. Haru entombs both of the prince’s hands.

“Okay,” she says, letting the whip flow back into her waterskin and assessing the patient’s inability to attack or flee. “Haru, give me a way to enter.”

“Enter?” Zuko echoes. “I’m fine, you don’t need to—”

One of the walls disappears into the floor, and Katara goes to kneel beside the prince. Sokka shifts his weight from one leg to the other, unsure whether he should go into the cell as well, or stay outside to not crowd Zuko more than necessary. The prince is thrashing around and tries to roll onto his left side.

“Stop struggling,” Katara orders, pushing him back down. “Stop it. Please, Zuko, you’re the one who makes it worse! Haru, can you …”

More stone rises to hold Zuko’s right shoulder in place. He’s barely able to move now, but still keeps on fighting. “Get away from me! Please get away from me.”

… Yeah, Sokka is not going to go any closer.

Katara hesitates for a moment, then apparently decides to ignore Zuko’s pleas. “Okay, let’s see …” She unties the sash holding his vest and tunic in place and bares his chest, the right side of which is dark purple with a horrible bruise. “Hold still.” Bending the water back out of the waterskin, she makes a small puddle in the air. “I can’t work like this. Hold still or I’ll have to knock you unconscious, and I really don’t want to do that.”

“No, just leave me,” Zuko pleads, his voice breaking, and his gaze darts towards Sokka. “Sokka …” Which is the closest Zuko has ever gotten to asking him for help.

“Just lie still and let her heal you, idiot. Everything’s going to be alright, okay?” How is he supposed to calm Zuko down when he has no idea why Zuko is freaking out in the first place? “We just want to help. No one is going to hurt you. No one will make it worse. You have my word on that. Katara will heal you and then we’ll leave you alone if you want to be alone. I promise. Okay? Do you trust me?”

Zuko is looking up at him silently, and his eyes are conveying a mixture of yes-no. Which hurts, even though it’s fair. Sokka’s reply to Zuko asking the same question yesterday was a sort of yes-no too, after all. Things would be different if the situation were different. They’d be friends by now. But trust is hard to develop with bars between them and a power imbalance where Sokka still isn’t sure which way it goes—because yes, Zuko is their prisoner and dependent of them, but in a one on one fight? Sokka wouldn’t stand a chance.

Maybe a yes-no is good enough for now, though, because Zuko finally stops struggling.

“Thank you.” Katara uses the water from the puddle still hanging in the air to make the glowy thing with her hands and then moves them over Zuko’s ribcage, closing her eyes. He gasps at the touch, but doesn’t move.

It only takes a moment before Katara opens her eyes again. “Just bruised? Just bruised? That’s three broken ribs, one of which is splintered!”

“I …” Zuko stammers. “I’m sorry.”

“Shush. You don’t get to apologize for this. Now lie still and don’t interrupt me.”

She closes her eyes again and gets to work.

Zuko glances at Sokka once, then stares straight at the ceiling. He’s breathing shallowly, his chest barely rising and falling.

“This would be easier if you’d relax,” Katara murmurs. “Relax. That’s the opposite of tense up.”

Zuko says nothing, and doesn’t relax either. Katara huffs and continues to work.

“Okay,” Katara says when she finally opens her eyes again. “I think it’s all set. Should be almost as good as new now. Is the pain gone?”

Zuko looks from the ceiling to her, then back again. “Yes.” He clears his throat. “Thank you.” The words sound forced.

“Next time you have broken bones, you’re going to tell me. Okay?”

He hesitates. “Yes.” It sounds amazingly like a ‘no.’

Katara narrows her eyes. “I’m making this a rule now. You will report any injuries immediately, or you’ll be sorry when we find out. And we will find out. Is that clear?”

“Yes.” This time, it actually sounds like a ‘yes.’ Why does Zuko have to be threatened into his own good?

“Do you have any other injuries?” she asks.

“No.”

“Is that answer going to change if I check you over from head to toe?”

“No. I’m fine.”

“You’d better not be lying.” Katara gets up and leaves the cell. “Haru?”

He raises the missing wall again, then lets Zuko sit up. The prince prods his ribs, face unreadable.

“All good?” Sokka asks.

Zuko nods.

"Take it easy for a week at least,” Katara says. “You can teach Aang, but don’t make any sudden movements.” She takes a deep breath. “I’m sorry I broke your ribs. I overreacted, and I shouldn’t have used that much force. I’ll be more careful with my bending in the future.”

Zuko stares. And keeps on staring.

“I …” Katara says, but doesn’t finish the sentence. Her ears are pink. “I’m going to look after the food.” With that, she leaves.

“What exactly,” Sokka asks when she’s out of earshot, “was your problem?” Because perhaps the prince just didn’t want to say it in front of Katara.

“Nothing.”

Sokka rolls his eyes. “One day, buddy, one day I’ll manage to remove that ‘nothing’ from your vocabulary.” He wants to keep on asking because Zuko’s behavior was just too weird, but Zuko doesn’t owe him an answer to that particular question. So he lets it drop.

Haru, meanwhile, is staring at the prince’s torso. “Why do you have so many scars?” Now that the giant purple bruise is gone, nothing distracts from the multitude of small scars all over Zuko’s chest and belly.

Getting up, Zuko turns his back to them to rebind the sash. “Training accidents.”

“All of them?” Sokka asks. Perhaps having a body as well-trained as Zuko’s is not so desirable, after all.

“… Most of them.”

“And the rest?”

Zuko’s voice gets hard. “None of your business.”

“Okay,” Sokka says, holding up his hands. “Whatever.” He pauses. “Um, by the way, we’re leaving tonight. For the Boiling Rock.”

“We?” Zuko asks, finally turning to face them, his clothes back in place.

“Haru and I.” Because Zuko was probably right, walking into an enemy prison alone might be pretty foolish, for someone as smart as Sokka. And Haru understands what it means to have a father in prison, and has first-hand experience with Fire Nation prisons himself, and Sokka has decided he can be trusted with that mission. He was right. Haru didn’t even try to talk him out of it, he just asked when they’re going to head off.

Zuko glances at Haru, face darkening. “Right. Good luck.”

“Um,” Sokka says. “Is … is everything alright? Between you and me?” Because it feels like it isn’t, and he doesn’t know why. He got Zuko the help he needed, didn’t he?

“Of course.”

“And is everything alright with you?”

“Obviously. I’m grand. I’m perfect. Everything is perfect.”

Sokka doesn’t need Toph to be able to tell it’s a lie.

Zuko paces. Katara hasn’t added any internal damage as far as he can tell, probably not daring to do it in front of Sokka. As of yet, she hasn’t come back to break more of his bones, either. But he failed to hide the pain of her initial punishment, and then Sokka made her heal him, Sokka even made her apologize, and earlier or later, Katara will come back to punish Zuko even more severely for that.

He doesn’t know why she hasn’t yet, but Sokka has left for the Boiling Rock in the night together with Haru, and it’s only a matter of time now.

Chapter Text

Crash-landing the war balloon? Went about as smoothly as Sokka anticipated. Breaking into the prison unnoticed? Surprisingly easy. Stealing a guard uniform for Haru and prison garb for himself? Quite straightforward. Finding Dad? Not too hard, because in the few weeks he’s been here, he has already become a target for the guards. Finding out that Suki is here too? Simple when Dad has already met her. Having Haru accuse Sokka of firebending so they’ll chuck him into the cooler? Feasible. Dismantling the cooler? Freezing but doable. Using the cooler to cross the boiling lake? Torrid but also doable. Leaving the damned volcano? Impossible.

Perhaps he should have thought the plan through to the end, Sokka thinks as a pair of Fire Nation guards force his wrists and ankles into the metal shackles attached to the chair. They’re not being very gentle. At least he has a chair. Should they have given a chair to Zuko? Are there even chairs in the temple? Or did the Air Nomads always sit on the floor? Yeah, they seem like the type for sitting on the floor.

When the shackling is done, the guards go to stand in the corners behind him, leaving the stage to the huge, brawny guy who is about three times Sokka’s size.

“Hi,” Sokka says.

Look-I’m-So-Super-Duper-Intimidating Man doesn’t greet back. Trying-To-Be-As-Scary-As-An-Unagi Man? Almost-Half-As-Big-As-Appa Man? Or maybe just Giant Man. Short, fitting, to the point.

“I don’t think we’ve been introduced,” Sokka adds.

Giant Man looks at him impassively. “We’ll start with your name, then.”

Sokka grins. He knew interrogations start with people’s names. Even though … He looks over his shoulder at the two guards. Nope, no one is taking notes. They’re doing this all wrong.

“Hengishakaboomalakabing,” Sokka says. “That’s my name. I’m an expert on interrogations myself, you know, and I think you should—”

“You can make this easy for yourself,” Giant Man says. “Or you can waste your one opportunity to make this easy for yourself.”

“Um.” It would be nice to be able to use his hands, just in case Giant Man is not only saying this for intimidation purposes. (It has to be only for intimidation purposes. It has to be.) Even though, looking at the size of the guy’s biceps, Sokka’s hands would not be of much use. At least not without his boomerang, which is safely back at the temple together with his Water Tribe clothes, because he’d rather lose the stolen Fire Nation clothes than the last few things he has from home. “I’ll take the easy way, thank you very much.”

“Then what,” Giant Man repeats, “is your name.” He doesn’t pronounce it like a question.

“Okay, okay, I was lying. My name isn’t Shakalookabengikengisan. It’s … Wang. Wang Fire.”

Giant Man can’t be an earthbender. Giant Man definitely can’t be a blind earthbender who can see with his feet. By rights, Giant Man shouldn’t be at all able to see through Sokka’s lies.

“You should reconsider lying to me, boy. I have ways to make you sing like a bird and spill all your secrets, and you might not like them very much.”

“You want birdsong? I can give you birdsong.” Sokka starts imitating the chirping of a sparrowkeet.

His chirping turns into gagging when Giant Man’s huge hand closes around Sokka’s throat, almost lifting him and the chair off the ground. “You think you’re funny, don’t you?” Giant Man asks, which is unfair because Sokka doesn’t even have a chance to answer. “But I’m not here for amusement. I’m here for answers, and I will get answers. You can either give them to me now, or you’ll spend some time screaming and then you’ll give them to me anyway. Your choice, little bird.”

… So that’s how interrogations work.

Sokka and Haru are supposed to be back two days after they left. They aren’t. They aren’t back in the morning, they aren’t back by noon, they still aren’t back in the evening.

Now it’s the next day already, and they still aren’t back. Something has gone wrong, and Zuko isn’t there to help.

And the worst part is that this feels all too familiar. Sokka leaving in the middle of the night just like Mom left in the middle of the night, Sokka not coming back just like Mom never came back, Sokka leaving him at the mercy of Katara just like Mom left him at the mercy of Father, even though neither Father nor Katara have ever shown mercy.

Although … Although Katara still hasn’t punished him for telling Sokka about the broken ribs, and has been suspiciously nice to Zuko ever since the incident, and has given him suspiciously much space, but he’s not falling for it, he’s not, he’s—

He’s starting to let himself hope she might let him get away with having been healed.

Of course, that’s just what she was waiting for, because she loves shattering his hope as much as Azula always loved it. A shiver runs down Zuko’s spine when she arrives to interrupt his pacing without a meal in hands, because this can only mean one thing. And … And she’s not alone. Toph is there, too.

Which means Katara isn’t going to be content with slamming him against the wall a few more times. She’s going to do something worse. Something she needs him restrained for, something so bad she fears he’ll use firebending against her ice and has decided stone is the safer option.

Zuko stops his pacing close to the back wall, which may or may not have been a coincidence, his heart rate climbing into worrying heights. Which Toph will, of course, know. Even if he manages to be calm on the outside, Toph will always know.

He might not have much dignity left, but he can at least conserve what little remains. So he won’t beg. He won’t. He’s not a weak thirteen-year-old anymore. He won’t say a word, and will try not to make a sound either.

Toph might even take pity on him, and step in at some point. They’ve had some sort of bonding, right? She said she believes him. She said she’d let him go.

… He should have used that opportunity.

It’s too late now, though, he can only hope that Toph won’t want to watch—but of course she won’t watch. Though perhaps if he can’t keep himself from screaming she might—or she might not. What did she call him when he was groaning after the interrogation? A wimp. She might just tell him to toughen himself up.

“Sparky,” Toph says, “stop freaking out.”

Yeah, that’s exactly the kind of thing she’ll say. And she has never intervened before either, so why would she step in now? No one ever intervenes. Even Uncle just sat in the audience, doing nothing.

Maybe—Zuko’s heart rate increases even more at the thought—maybe Katara will practice her bloodbending on him, and Toph is here to open the cell so Katara can make him walk to the cooking fire and dip his hands into the boiling hot water, or make him cut off his own feet using his own swords, or drown himself in the fountain, or—

“I said stop freaking out.”

“I’m not.”

“That’s the stupidest lie I’ve heard from you so far. Now stop giving yourself a heart attack, no one’s going to kill you.”

She’s young. She might not know there are worse things than being killed. Katara might—

“I said stop it,” Toph says. “Argh, Katara, tell him you’re not going to kill him.”

Katara frowns at Toph, then at Zuko. “Why would I kill you? Have you done anything?”

“No.” … Which is a lie, because he has done plenty of things to earn her ire. “I mean, nothing new. Nothing you don’t already know.”

She looks at Toph for a moment, but Toph stays quiet. “Okay then. Are your ribs alright?”

Should he say no, so she won’t have a reason to inflict more pain? But Toph is right there, she’d know he’d be lying, and then they’d punish him for lying. “Is that a trick question?”

Katara’s frown gets more pronounced. “What?”

“Isn’t it … I mean …” This is no good. They’ll find out anyway. “Yes, my ribs are alright,” he says, steeling himself.

“That’s good to hear. Would you like me to check them over again?”

“No!” Not that she ever cared about what he wants or doesn’t want. She’ll just have him earthbent to the ground again and this time, she’ll use her bloodbending to rip some arteries apart or use her healing powers to cause a kidney failure or an appendicitis so he’ll die a slow and painful death that will look to the rest of the group as if it was a natural death—

“Okay,” Katara says. “I was just offering.”

… It doesn’t make sense. Why would she offer if she doesn’t have an agenda behind it? And if she has an agenda, why would she just accept his no? It doesn’t make sense at all.

“Sparky, will you calm down now?” Toph asks. “We’re not here to hurt you. We just wanted to talk to you about Sokka and Haru. And when I say talk, I mean talk. Just talk. We’re not going to hurt you at all, okay? Neither of us.”

Sokka and Haru. Right. That makes sense. They must have realized the boys are late. Has Toph ever lied to him? She hasn’t, right? “… Okay.”

“We’ll be back in five minutes. Try to calm down, alright?” She doesn’t wait for a reply before grabbing Katara’s arm and dragging her out of sight.

Zuko slumps against the wall, his pulse still too loud in his ears. He’s not going to get bloodbent. He’s not going to get bloodbent. He’s not going to get killed, either.

… Not right now, anyway.

He exhales slowly, trying to get his heart rate under control. Agni, who is he kidding? He’s still as weak as he was three years ago, being scared like this.

Damn, he should have fled when he had the chance. Maybe … Maybe Toph’s offer still stands? No, surely not. He’s teaching the Avatar, he’s exactly where Toph wanted him to be, so why would she let him go now? She will—hopefully—when the war is over, and Father has been defeated (if Father will be defeated), but Zuko would be a fool to think she’ll let him leave one minute earlier.

And anyway, first he’ll have to get through the upcoming interrogation, and he’ll need to have his wits about him, because this could go so wrong. He starts a breathing exercise to calm himself, and is still in the middle of it when Katara and Toph come back.

Toph nods at him. “Good. Can we have a conversation now, or do you need more time?”

“We can talk now.” Because stalling it is the coward’s way out, and they’ll insist on talking eventually. He might as well get it over with now.

“So …” Katara says. “Sokka and Haru should have been back yesterday.”

Zuko doesn’t look at either of them. “Yeah, I know.”

“Do you know where they went?” Katara asks.

He glances at Toph. Lying is not an option. And she said they’ll just talk, and no one will hurt him. “Yes.”

“And?” Katara continues. “Did they actually go hunting?”

He just breathes for a moment, trying to buy time. If he lies, they’re going to be angry at him. If he tells the truth, they’re also going to be angry at him. Why does it have to be so awful being him? “… Sort of? Not really?”

“Explain,” Toph says.

“They haven’t gone hunting for food.”

“Then where have they gone?” Katara asks, stepping closer.

She’ll be mad at Zuko, she surely will. He has had ample opportunity to alert her, after all, and hasn’t said anything. “Sokka forbade me to tell you.” Which was stupid, really, because now Sokka’s plan failed and he is probably imprisoned and Zuko can’t go rescue him and no one else even knows where he is, and Zuko is not allowed to tell them.

Yes, Katara looks reasonably mad already. “Sokka has secrets he shares with you but not us?”

“It’s not my fault!” Zuko is not sure it’s the truth, though. He’s the one who mentioned the Boiling Rock, after all.

“Well,” Katara says, “I forbid you not to tell me where Sokka and Haru have gone.”

So now he has reached an impasse. Great. Just great. What is he supposed to do now?

“Look, Sparky,” Toph says. “We’re just worried something has gone wrong and they’re in trouble.”

Zuko sighs. “Yeah. Me too.”

“Then tell us where they went so we can go and help.”

They don’t understand. Zuko shakes his head. “But Sokka forbade—”

“Did he explicitly say you’re still not to tell us in case he doesn’t come back?”

“Well, no, but—”

“Then what he meant,” Toph says, “is don’t tell us before he leaves.”

“That … That doesn’t …” He wants to say it doesn’t make sense, except it does, somehow. But if Father had been the one to forbid him to say something, it would stay forbidden no matter the circumstances, no matter what excuses Zuko could possibly make for having shared the secret with someone. Forbidden is forbidden. “Who thinks like that?”

Toph throws up her hands in frustration. “Everyone, Sparky. Everyone except your crazy family. Sokka expects you to use your brain and not follow orders if they lead to someone getting hurt.”

It rings true enough. Sokka seemed aghast that Zuko had followed the no-firebending rule even though the rope was too tight, and that was long before Sokka started giving him a preferential treatment. Oh damn, he is such a fool. He should have told the others about Sokka’s plan the moment they didn’t come back in time.

He raises his head and looks Katara right into the eyes. “They went to rescue your father.”

“They …” Katara stares at him. “They what?”

“Sokka asked me what might have happened to your father, so I told him about this high-security prison I think they might have sent him to, and Sokka insisted on going there.”

Zuko can pinpoint the exact moment her shock turns into fury because she suddenly has that ice-cold glare that usually precedes him getting half-drowned, being iced to the wall, or ending up with broken bones. “You told my brother to go to a Fire Nation prison?!”

He wants to recede further but there’s a wall in his back. Of course they’re not going to just talk, why did he believe that, why does he fall for it every single time? It was just a ploy to get him to talk and he should have seen it coming, anyone would have seen it coming, he is such a fool. “No, I told him not to go, I told him you wouldn’t want him to go either but he forbade me to tell you, he insisted I give him all the information I have, he didn’t listen when I said it’s too dangerous, I didn’t want him to—”

“HE’S MY BROTHER!” Katara shouts. “He’s my brother and he was my last remaining family member and you let him go to an enemy prison and you DIDN’T TELL ME?!” She’s gesticulating wildly and her hand moves close to her waterskin and Zuko instinctively raises his arms to shield his head and chest as if that ever helped, and even if it did, she could just take control of his body and make him lower his arms, make him do anything—and then Toph stomps her foot and a wall of rock rises between them and Zuko. It’s covering one of the cage sides completely, and Zuko is left with nothing but the view of the temple wall once again.

“What are you doing?” Katara demands, and great, now Zuko can’t even see her, so he can’t prepare for the attack; he doesn’t know which direction to dodge if he can’t see it coming—

“Keeping you from doing something you’ll regret.” Toph’s voice is calm but steady as a boulder. “I won’t force him to get healed if he doesn’t want to, so get a grip on yourself before you injure him again and then have even more reasons to feel guilty.” Katara … is feeling guilty? Why would she feel guilty?

“I wasn’t going to injure him!” Katara still sounds angry, even though she’s not yelling anymore. “I wasn’t even bending at all, and I wasn’t going to bend, either! I said I’ll be more careful, do you think I can’t remember what I said a few days ago?”

“Well, Zuko’s heart rate thought you were going to bend. And you sure sounded like you were about to smack him with some water, all that yelling so close to my eardrums … They’re only okay with that when I’m the one doing the yelling, you know.”

“My brother is probably being held captive at an enemy prison, excuse me for being a bit emotional!”

He knew Katara would be angry, he should have tried harder to dissuade Sokka from going, he should have told Katara about it before Sokka had a chance to leave, he should have—he should have—

“Then go and be emotional somewhere else,” Toph says. “Zuko wasn’t lying, he was only following orders, and before you blame him for that, think twice about who told him to follow orders in the first place.”

“I never meant things like this!”

The cell is far too tiny, it didn’t feel as tiny while it had a view of the canyon but now the walls are too close and he can’t get far enough away from where Katara and Toph are arguing about him and he can’t even see them—

“How is Zuko supposed to know that?” Toph asks.

There’s a sigh, but no reply.

“Katara, Zuko tried to talk Sokka out of it. It’s not his fault that Sokka didn’t listen.”

Another sigh. “I guess not.”

“I understand the urge to shout at someone, but do everyone a favor and shout at your idiot brother once we get him back, and leave Zuko in peace. Then perhaps we can start thinking about how we’ll get your idiot brother back. Zuko can’t tell us more about this prison if he has a heart attack because he thinks you’ll murder him.”

“I wouldn’t! Now take that wall down or get out of my way, I have questions for him.”

The wall disappears back into the ground. Katara is standing there with her arms crossed, and no water whip ready for an attack—not yet. Okay, wishing for the wall to be gone was stupid. It’s much worse now that she’s fixing her gaze on Zuko, an eerie determination in her eyes.

He forces himself to lower his arms, because it’s a position that is too easily misinterpreted as offensive instead of defensive, and anyway he’s not allowed to defend himself against her attacks.

“I’m not going to kill you,” are the first words out of her mouth. It’s not a very believable promise. “And as long as you answer my questions, and answer them truthfully, I won’t use waterbending against you, either.” Which is not true, according to his experience, but he’s not allowed to talk back, so he says nothing. “I shouldn’t have blamed you. I know Sokka can be stubborn.”

Toph snorts. “Runs in the family.” Zuko holds his breath because now Toph is making it worse, why does she think it would be a good idea to make it worse—

Katara glares at her, which Toph of course doesn’t see. And then she looks back at Zuko, miraculously without glaring at him. “So. Where exactly is this prison, and how do we break in?”

Who would have thought that mopping is not a lot of fun? Yeah. It’s not a lot of fun. Still, spending the afternoon mopping is better than spending the morning screaming.

Sokka’s head is still throbbing from being dangled upside down for ages, and the various burns all over his body are aching so badly he wishes he were back in the cooler, because numb limbs would be preferable to this. Unfortunately, he confessed to Giant Man that he can’t actually firebend, and nonbenders get punished differently, and Sokka doesn’t know exactly how nonbenders get punished because Zuko didn’t know. He doesn’t feel like finding out, so he doesn’t pretend to firebend again, and he doesn’t start a brawl, or insult a guard, or anything, really. He just goes on mopping.

Sokka doesn’t know why he didn’t think of asking Zuko about Dad’s possible whereabouts much earlier, except that perhaps his mind was a bit occupied with a certain firebender. He’s only been here for three days and already loathes the place. And Dad has been here for weeks. But he also mentioned he was being held at the caldera’s Prison Tower for a few days before they singled him out as the leader, so if Sokka had thought of asking Zuko immediately, he might have come here, not found Dad, and left without a second thought. Wouldn’t that have been ironic?

After what feels like hours of mopping, he spots Haru at the other end of the hall, and carefully mops his way over.

“Hey,” Sokka whispers.

Haru looks up. He’s sporting some brand-new bruises.

Which is Sokka’s fault. Because he dragged Haru into this, even though Haru has already been imprisoned once. “They questioned you too?” Sokka asks.

Haru nods. His mop is even dirtier than Sokka’s. Maybe the guards don’t even want them to clean the floor, just to make it dirtier so they’ll have a reason to make the prisoners mop again tomorrow.

“You tell them anything?”

“Yeah.” Haru doesn’t look him into the eyes. “Sorry.”

“Did you mention Aang?”

“No.”

“Zuko?”

“No.”

Sokka exhales. “Don’t worry, then.” Because he ended up telling Giant Man quite a lot, too. His name, and that Hakoda is his dad, and Suki not really his girlfriend but he likes her, and that he wanted to rescue them, and how he got here, and how he broke in, and how he dismantled the cooler, and yes, everything was his plan, and he was part of the invasion on the Day of Black Sun too, and no, he’s not a waterbender, yes, that’s the truth, he’s already telling the truth, dammit, can they please stop hurting him, he’s only fifteen, really, only fifteen, he’s really not a waterbender, please!

But he hasn’t mentioned Aang, and hasn’t mentioned Zuko. Which he might only have managed because Giant Man didn’t ask about Aang or Zuko. Because who would ask a random fifteen-year-old if he’s traveling with the Avatar or knows the whereabouts of the Fire Nation prince?

Except he’s not a random fifteen-year-old. Giant Man apparently doesn’t know the names of the Avatar’s traveling companions, but someone will know. Someone will put two and two together.

And then they’ll interrogate him again.

And he doesn’t know if he’ll be able not to tell them where to find Aang.

“We need to get out of here,” Sokka whispers.

“And how?” Haru asks back.

“I don’t know. I’ll come up with a new plan. I’m still gathering information.”

“You two!” a guard shouts, and a giant fire whip crashes to the ground between Sokka and Haru. Sokka jumps back, losing his mop. “No whispering!” the guard commands. “Get back to work!”

Stealing one last glance at Haru, Sokka picks up his mop, and continues having a very not-fun afternoon.

Chapter Text

They left him behind. Again. Just like Sokka did. They left him behind because of course Katara didn’t want him to come, and Toph said he shouldn’t because of doctor’s orders concerning his ribs, even though his ribs are fine, and Aang said Zuko’s face is too recognizable and what if someone alerts Azula—which is just a nicer way of saying ‘you have a giant hideous scar and your sister is a crazy evil monster.’

They just left him behind with only two nonbenders and a lemur and what if Aang and Toph and Katara don’t come back either and he’ll be stuck here forever? And then one day Teo and The Duke will run out of supplies or just get bored of providing him with food or even just forget, and he’ll starve to death. Or what if someone attacks them and Zuko won’t be able to help, or what if the temple collapses and he falls to his death?

But the children don’t care about that, of course. Why would anyone care whether Zuko lives or dies, when even Father doesn’t care?

Dad won’t stop fussing over Sokka, even though Sokka has already told him that he’s alright, and no, he’s not about to die from his wounds, see, there’s not even any blisters, he’s fine, really, they only kept on interrogating him for … what, half a day? And no, he wasn’t strong enough not to tell them anything, but he didn’t mention the Avatar, so that’s something, isn’t it?

It’s the day after the interrogation, and all four of them finally managed to reunite during breakfast. Dad and Suki look fine, or at least as fine as they did when Sokka first came here, which is, admittedly, not very fine at all—both of them are thinner than they should be, and look far too exhausted for Sokka’s liking, but at least they don’t have new injuries. They only tried to escape, after all, and didn’t break in to break someone else out. They don’t have information anyone might be interested in.

Haru, on the other hand, looks worse than ever, dark circles under his eyes in addition to the bruises. “I can’t sleep,” he explains. “They made me confess I’m an earthbender. Apparently, the Boiling Rock is not designed for holding earthbenders.”

“Which is an advantage,” Sokka says. “You have better chances of escape!”

“No. How would I get off the island? Same problem we had. Also, see that guard over there? He’s following me around all day. Last time I tried to bend, I got this.” He pushes up his trouser leg to reveal a bandage going all the way from his ankle to his knee.

Sokka wrinkles his nose. “What’s that smell?”

“Burn salve.” The wound must have been really bad if the guards deemed it necessary to treat it; no one offered to attend to any of the injuries Sokka got during his interrogation. Then again, all of his burns are small and superficial and unlikely to become infected; Giant Man wanted to make him talk, not to make him a burden they would have to take care of. He averts his gaze from Haru’s bandage, suddenly all too aware of how much worse things can still get.

“And when they bring me to my cell,” Haru continues, “they chain me up so I’m not in contact with the earth and can’t move, and put someone on watch as well. I can’t sleep while hanging from my wrists.”

Suki grimaces in sympathy. “They’ll eventually get tired of guarding you around the clock. They won’t keep this up forever.”

“No, they won’t.” Haru looks down at his untouched bowl of disgusting-looking something. “I heard them mention they’ll send me to one of those horrible metal rigs again, and I still can’t metalbend.”

Damn it. If they get separated, it will be so much harder to free everyone. 

Suki glances around, leans over the table to stretch her back, and quickly exchanges her still almost full bowl with Dad’s already almost empty one before sitting back down as if nothing happened.

“Suki,” Dad chides in exactly the exasperated tone he always used to say ‘Sokka’ whenever Sokka continued smuggling his cucumberquats onto Katara’s plate even though he had already been told three times to eat them himself because ‘one cannot only live off meat.’

“Hakoda,” Suki replies in the same tone, which is … slightly disturbing. And seems to work, because Dad doesn’t reply, he just sighs and continues eating.

“What was that about?” Sokka asks.

Suki finishes the last spoonful of food, glances at Dad, and says, “I don’t like the food.”

Sokka pokes around in the disgusting-looking something. “I bet no one likes this stuff. It tastes even worse than it looks, and that’s saying something.” He eats it anyway, because he’s starving, and deliberately unpalatable gross stuff is better than nothing. Haru still hasn’t touched his food, though. Sokka elbows him. “We’ll flee before they send you away.”

“Do you have a new plan?” Dad asks. “Have you been able to find out anything new?”

Yes. Fire is HOT.

“Not really,” Sokka says, slumping. “I’m still thinking about it.” The truth is, he’s been mopping so much he’s sore all over and his hands are callused and it’s hard to think about anything at all, let alone come up with a plan. His mastermind of a brain is leaving him high and dry. He can’t even hope that the others are going to come bail them out, because the problem is: he told Zuko not to tell anyone about the Boiling Rock. Knowing Zuko, he’ll think that’s a rule he’s not allowed to break under any circumstances, because Sokka was stupid enough not to specify that yes, please tell them to come save us if this goes horribly wrong. And the others won’t … they won’t torture Zuko to get him to tell them where Sokka went, will they? Surely not. So Dad and Suki and Haru and him have to manage to escape on their own. “Just try to—” He shuts up when two guards approach their table.

“You,” says the woman, pointing at Sokka. “Come with us.”

He sinks lower into his seat, wishing he could sink through the seat and into the floor and just stop existing. “Why?”

“The warden has questions for you.”

The warden. The warden himself. Questions. Oh no, oh no, oh no. He’s not ready for that. He’ll never be ready for that.

“I, um …” Sokka says, his throat so tight it’s hard to get the words out. “I’d … rather … finish my breakfast first?”

The guard grabs his wrist and wrenches his arm behind his back and upwards, and he jumps to his feet with a yelp. “No one leaves the warden waiting,” she says.

“Let him go.” Dad is on his feet too, and towering over the guard.

Fire flares up from her free hand. “Sit back down. We’re only taking this one.” Sokka could swear there’s fear in Dad’s eyes while he’s observing the flames, even though Dad isn’t afraid of anything.

Suki and Haru stand up too, but the second guard points a fist at each of them. “This is your only warning,” he says. “If either of you makes a wrong move, I will firebend at both of you.”

Haru raises his hands. Suki glances at him before doing the same. The commotion is attracting attention, and more guards are on their way to the table.

“You can take me,” Dad says, “but leave him here.”

“I said sit back down!” Everything happens so fast. The guard holding Sokka throws a fireball at Dad, and Dad ducks and moves towards her, but a fire whip whooshes through the air to hit the ground between them. Dad flinches back before wrenching his gaze away from the flames, jumping over the fire whip, and kicking at the guard still holding Sokka. She curses and stumbles backwards, dragging Sokka with her, her uncoordinated flailing making him yelp again when she pulls his hand further upwards. How is he supposed to help with the fighting when his shoulder hurts?

The guard with the whip is out of the fight after meeting with Dad’s fist, and another one crashes to the ground when Dad kicks his knee out from under him. Haru’s personal supervisor has arrived to shackle both Haru and Suki before they can join the fight, while Dad takes down another guard with a well-placed elbow to the solar plexus. But more guards keep on coming, and four of them manage to wrestle Dad to the ground.

“Sokka …” is the last thing out of Dad’s mouth before the first guard whirls Sokka around and marches him off, his shoulder close to dislocating.

There’s rice with vegetables and berries for breakfast. Teo’s cooking is much more experimental than Katara’s and the combination of fennel-leek and goji-strawberries tastes a bit peculiar, but Zuko has to admit there are advantages to the core group being gone, no one being here who hates him, and no benders here who can hurt him. For once, he doesn’t have to worry about Katara slamming him against walls if he says a wrong word, or about Toph detecting his lies, or about Aang possibly injuring himself during firebending training.

“Do you want more?” Teo asks once Zuko is finished with his first helping.

Zuko shakes his head. “We should make sure the supplies last as long as possible. It might take the others some time to get back here.” They might never get back here, is what is actually running through his mind, but he doesn’t want to scare the boy. It’s bad enough that Zuko’s mind conjures images of Sokka being mistreated by prison guards, he doesn’t need to unsettle the children as well.

“Don’t worry, we have plenty!”

“Still. Even plenty will eventually become nothing when you keep on subtracting from it.”

“I know how math works,” Teo says. “The thing is … I haven’t cooked very often, you know. And I … miscalculated. A bit.”

Zuko narrows his eyes. “Which means?”

“There’s a lot left over,” Teo says, shrugging. “Like … a lot. Did you know that rice hugely increases in volume when you cook it? It’s super fascinating.”

Zuko sighs. This is going great. “Fine. I’ll have a second bowl, then.”

“And hopefully a third!” Teo replies, already rolling away. “And a fourth!”

… This is going so great.

Things are going abysmally badly. How come Dad was able to incapacitate three guards all on his own, and Sokka can’t even get away from one single guard? He doesn’t even have the courage to try, because his shoulder is hurting so much he has to bite back a sob, and if he starts resisting, it’ll only get worse. Dad wouldn’t be this weak. Dad would put up a fight. But Sokka is not his dad, and he doesn’t know how to be strong enough to fight back.

Sokka recognizes the room the guard brings him to. Oh, sweet memories.

The chair is still the same, with that creak whenever he leans too far to the left, and the metal shackles close over the bruises he gave himself while struggling in panic and pain the last time he was here. The scorch marks on his prison garb seem to stand out from the red cloth as if to remind him of what is to come. And now he can’t stop thinking about what his clothes will look like in an hour, or two, or three.

… If he even manages to keep quiet that long.

No one leaves the warden waiting, but the warden leaves him waiting. He’s nowhere to be seen, and after shackling Sokka to the chair, even his single guard just leaves. As if he wasn’t the least bit of a threat, as if he wasn’t a warrior who deserves to be guarded, as if he wasn’t capable of escaping long before they even notice he’s gone …

Sokka strives against the restraints, and ow, bruises, and—

He sags. He’s not a threat, and he’s not capable of escaping. Does that mean he’s not a warrior, either?

Zuko leans against one bar after the next, testing their strength, looking for possible escape routes, just in case he needs one. But there’s none. Nothing. All of the stone columns are perfect, there’s no escape from—

Footsteps.

“Hey, ashmaker!” The Duke says with a smile that doesn’t fit the insult.

Zuko has already moved away from the bars before he remembers Haru isn’t even here. He scowls. “Stop insulting me!”

The kid looks at him with a confused frown. “Insulting you?”

“Yes.”

“But I didn’t!”

What’s wrong with the kid? Did he fall on his head? Is that why he’s always wearing that oversized helmet? “You called me ashmaker.”

“That’s an insult?”

“Obviously!” Zuko yells.

“Oh.” The Duke scratches his forehead. “Doesn’t it just mean firebender?”

“No. It’s a really nasty term for a firebender. How would you like it if I called you …” Zuko racks his brain trying to think of something. “Tree hopper?”

“But I am a tree hopper. Or at least,” The Duke adds, sagging, “I was.”

And that’s why Azula always won the insult competitions. “Well, calling someone ashmaker is not nice, so don’t do it.”

“Okay.” The Duke sticks out his tongue, the way he always does when he’s thinking. “Can I call you firebender instead?”

Zuko sighs. “How about you call me Zuko?”

“Oh. Okay. Zuko, wanna play another game?”

Zuko shakes his head. “Haru said you’re not allowed to play with me.”

“But that was ages ago,” The Duke says, sitting down anyway. “Yesterday, Katara said we don’t have to worry about you trying anything while they’re gone, because without me and Teo, you wouldn’t have anyone to bring you food.”

So Katara does accredit Zuko some basic intelligence. Good to know.

“Now will you play with me?” The Duke asks, blinking up at him with turtle-duckling eyes. “Pleeeeaaase?”

Zuko sighs again. “Okay.”

Sokka is not going to keep on saying please, this time. Begging didn’t help yesterday, it won’t help today either, and it’s unbefitting of a warrior.

He wishes the warden were already here, because then he’d be closer to the end of this interrogation, and at the same time wishes the warden would never come.

The warden eventually does come. And the guard who left him here alone, and probably enjoyed a cup of tea in the meantime. And Giant Man too, slamming the door shut behind himself with a bang that reverberates through Sokka’s bones.

The warden looks him over.

Sokka doesn’t feel like initiating the conversation, this time, so he just looks back.

“I was told you’re a chatty one,” the warden says eventually. “What happened?”

Why can’t time just stop running? Now would be a perfect moment. He can’t let his fear show, though. He has to be strong. He has to be stronger than last time. “Well, I’m full of surprises.”

“Ah. There’s the attitude I was expecting.”

“Okay,” Sokka says. “Maybe I’m not that full of surprises, after all.”

“It was very kind of you to walk right into my prison. Do you know how high your bounty is?”

He does. He’s seen the posters. But perhaps he should keep some plausible deniability. “Whatever you think it is, it’s not high enough. I’m priceless.”

“I will hand you over and collect my reward once I’m finished with you,” the warden says, smiling. The guy is monologizing as if Sokka hadn’t said anything. Why is he even waiting for replies, then? Is he hoping Sokka will accidentally start talking about Aang? Then he has never met a master of inconsequential chatter. “But beforehand … I have a question, Sokka of the Southern Water Tribe.”

It’s no use denying it. After Giant Man put so much energy into extracting the truth, they won’t believe him if he says his name isn’t Sokka. “Is the question where I get all the ideas for my puns from? The answer is: from my brain.”

The warden seems not to have even heard him. “It wasn’t hard to gain information on you, Sokka. You haven’t exactly been cautious.”

“Being cautious isn’t part of my … What did you call it? Attitude.”

“It wasn’t hard to gain information on your companions, either. One, in particular.” The warden leans down, his face close to Sokka’s. Far too close for Sokka’s liking. “You know who I’m talking about,” he adds quietly, “don’t you?”

Breathe. Breathe. “My wittiness?” Sokka asks. “My bravery? My artistic talent?”

“Where is the Avatar?”

Whatever they do, don’t tell them.

“What Avatar?”

“Acting stupid won’t help you,” the warden says, his voice hard, straightening back up.

“I’m not acting stupid, I am stupid.”

The warden motions at Giant Man, and Giant Man ignites a flame on the tip of his finger, a red-hot menace Sokka knows all too well.

Not telling them suddenly doesn’t seem like a good idea anymore.

“Wait! The Avatar?” Sokka says, keeping his eyes glued to Giant Man and leaning away from him as far as the restraints allow.

… No, he can’t tell them. This is about Aang. He’s a child. Also, he’s Aang. “The Avatar is back?” Sokka asks instead.

“I’m not a patient man, Sokka,” the warden says. “This will get uncomfortable very quickly if you don’t answer the question. So. Where is the Avatar?”

Don’t tell them.

“Maybe in a vat, arguing?” Sokka forces a grin onto his face while clenching his fists so tightly he can feel the nails dig into the flesh. “Get it? A vat ar-guing?”

The warden narrows his eyes. “You’re truly your father’s son, Sokka,” he says, making Sokka feel proud. “Which reminds me …” Now the warden has a contemplative look on his face that Sokka doesn’t like one bit, and turns to the guard standing in the corner of the room. “How did prisoner Hakoda react when you took his son away?”

“He demanded we take him instead, sir, and tried to put up a fight. We got him under control quickly.”

Sokka raises an eyebrow, looking at her over his shoulder. “Quickly?” he asks. “He defeated three guards!”

“Well, yes.” The guard shuffles her feet. “We got him under control quicker than last time. We’ve put him back in solitary, sir. Another two weeks in there should teach him some respect. And we’re cutting his food rations further down to one meal every second day; there won’t be any fight left in him soon. Sir.”

Sokka swallows hard. Back in solitary? And they’re starving Dad? Tui and La, no wonder Zuko thought they were keeping food from him on purpose if that’s a common Fire Nation practice. Why didn’t Dad say anything? Sokka would have given him his—

Oh. Suki exchanging their bowls suddenly makes a lot of sense. Why didn’t they tell him? Did they think he couldn’t handle the truth?

The warden hums. “And have any of these methods lead to success so far?”

“Um … Not yet, sir, he’s very strong-willed, which is why we also applied some of our more direct methods of punishing unruly behavior this time, as you suggested. And if he keeps on making trouble, we will work with him until—”

“Don’t bother,” the warden says, “I know just what he needs to learn proper respect. From now on, every time he steps out of line, we’ll punish his son instead of him. Fetch Hakoda. And bring another one of those chairs too.” The warden’s gaze lands on Sokka. “For a start, he will watch us interrogate his son.”

During their fifth game of water-earth-fire-air, Momo comes flying to join them, his gaze landing on Zuko. He hops closer, holding something in his paws … Moon peaches. Two moon peaches, one of which he drops onto Zuko’s lap, before eating the other one himself.

“Um. Thank you?” He scratches the lemur’s head in return, and Momo purrs.

It’s the most delicious moon peach Zuko has ever eaten.

Sokka feels like he’s eaten a rotten fruit and might have to puke it back up.

The warden doesn’t wait for Dad to arrive. “Back to you, Sokka. There are plenty of follow-up questions your father can witness. What, did you think I’d give you time to think of a convincing lie? You will tell me where the Avatar is, right now!”

“But I don’t know!” Maybe he should just tell them everything, because he doesn’t want Dad to see—No. No, he can’t. He has to be strong. He has to be so strong he won’t even scream, because that would break Dad’s heart.

“This is your last chance.” The warden motions for Giant Man to come closer, that flame still on the tip of the man’s finger.

Perhaps he just shouldn’t say anything anymore, so that the truth can’t spill out with the rest of his words. But that’s exactly what someone who knows where the Avatar is would do, and Sokka Does Not Know where the Avatar is.

“I don’t know the Avatar, you must be mistaking me for a different Sokka, it’s a common name, almost everyone’s called Sokka in the South Pole, have you ever been there? It’s really nice, we have nights with colorful lights in the sky and days where the sun never sets and we have lots of snow, have you ever seen snow? It’s white and fluffy and cold, really nicely cold, I think you would like it, and we also have—”

He gasps when Giant Man grabs his upper arm, the candle finger so close to Sokka’s skin he can already feel the heat.

Don’t tell them.

“Where?” the warden repeats.

“I don’t know, I swear!”

The candle finger comes closer. And closer. And closer.

DON’T TELL THEM.

The shackles are digging into Sokka’s flesh, but he can’t stop himself from pulling with all his strength—not that it achieves anything, there’s no escape, there’s nothing he can do apart from telling them what they want to know, but he can’t do that—

“WHERE IS THE AVATAR?” the warden shouts, small droplets of spit landing on Sokka’s face.

“I’m here!”

The door flies open, crashes against the wall, a sudden strong wind sending Giant Man and the warden colliding with the guard behind Sokka’s back. Aang is standing in the door, staff in hand, a furious expression on his face.

“Next time you want to know where I am, come look for me yourself!”

“Found it!” Teo grins like all of his birthdays are happening at once. “I win again!”

“You cheated!” The Duke complains, crossing his arms.

“I didn’t!”

“Yes, you did!”

“No, I didn’t! Zuko, you’re the judge. Did I cheat?”

Zuko glances from one child to the other, both of whom are looking up at him with hopeful expressions. “Uh …” No diplomacy lesson has ever prepared him for this.

Teo holds a hand to the side of his mouth, whispering, “I’m the one who cooks your food.”

“Hey!” The Duke exclaims. “I’m the one … I’m the one …” He picks up his stick. “I’m the one with the stick!”

“Uh …” Zuko repeats, refusing to move out of poking range again. It’s just a kid, he has to stop being a coward. “You both win?”

Katara won’t stop hugging him. Neither will Aang. Or Toph. Or Suki, even though he has seen her only a short while ago.

“I’m fine,” Sokka tries to reassure them. Katara pokes at one of yesterday’s burns on his arm. “Ouch! Okay, I’m fine everywhere except there. Ouch! And there. Okay okay, stop poking me, I’m not that fine.”

“You’ve spent too much time with Zuko,” Toph says. She’s grinning from ear to ear.

“With whom?” Suki asks.

Sokka shakes his head. “Long story, no time.” He wriggles out of the hug to get a better look at the unconscious guard Toph dragged into the interrogation room. It’s the one who was supposed to fetch Dad.

“We happened to come across her,” Suki answers his unasked question. 

“Good.” They don’t need to know the details of how good. Even though, with the recent turn of events, it would have been convenient to have Dad brought to them, instead of having to find him. “So, uh. What’s the plan?”

“You mean apart from ‘get out of here’?” Katara shrugs. “There isn’t one. We left Appa on the outer volcano and crossed the lake on an ice floe, but I can’t transport more than three people at once because the ice melts so fast in the boiling water. If the guards realize we’re escaping while some of us are still waiting for transport, we have a problem.”

“Hm.” Sokka taps his chin, thinking. “Aang, do you still have the bison whistle?”

Aang nods. “Yes, but Appa needs space to land. And he’s a bit, you know, visible.”

A mischievous grin spreads on Suki’s face. “I might have an idea.”

Zuko has no idea what he’s supposed to say. He stares at the jumble of lines The Duke has drawn into the sand, trying to make sense of what he’s seeing. “Is it … is it … the sun, wearing a hat?”

The Duke snorts. “No.”

“Is it …” Teo tilts his head. “A fat man with a beard?”

“No.”

How can anyone draw this badly? “Is it a war balloon?” Zuko asks.

“No.”

Teo looks up, smiling. “My father invented those!”

“Your father invented them?” Zuko asks.

“Yep. He’s amazing!”

… So at least one of the them has a father he likes.

Sokka doesn’t like the sight of Haru hanging in the center of the cell. There’s a short fight they quickly win, before Sokka uses the guard’s own handcuffs to shackle her while Katara frees Haru from the chains he’s dangling from.

He rubs his wrists, grimacing. “How did you find me?”

“Same way we found Suki,” Toph says. “There’s only a handful of prisoners currently in their cells, most of the people are in the cafeteria or the yard or wherever. I figured if anyone made trouble and got sent back to their cells, it’d be you guys.”

Haru grins proudly. “Thanks to Katara, I’m an expert at making trouble in a prison. So you just saw us with your feet?”

“Yep.”

Sokka gags the guard with her own belt and dumps her in the corner of the cell. “Can your feet also see Dad?”

“Haven’t found him yet,” she says.

Sokka deflates. Who knows how long it will take them to find Dad. But they won’t leave him behind again, they won’t.

Toph punches his shoulder. “Cheer up, Captain Boomerang, we’ll find him. Do you know where his cell is?”

“He won’t be there.”

“What do you mean?” Katara asks.

“They mentioned they put him in solitary for attacking the guards.”

Katara’s face darkens. “Solitary?”

“Solitary confinement,” Suki explains. “They have special cells for that, on the west side of the building.”

Sokka decides not to ask Suki why she knows where the special cells are. He’s not sure how much more he can take before he’ll break down crying like a child.

Zuko finally gives up. “What is it?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” The Duke asks, jumping to his feet. “It’s me!”

Zuko squints at the painting again. “Um … Okay? What’s that triangle supposed to be?”

“My helmet, obviously!”

“Your helmet looks nothing like that,” Teo says. “When’s the last time you’ve seen yourself in a mirror?”

The Duke frowns. “What’s a mirror?”

Sokka used a mirror to peek around corners and check for empty corridors when he and Haru first broke into the prison, but he doesn’t have that mirror anymore. Thankfully, he also doesn’t need it anymore.

Toph holds up her hand, and everyone freezes. They wait. And wait. Finally, Sokka can hear footsteps coming closer, and then fading again. When they’re gone, Toph points her hand down the corridor, and everyone continues walking. 

They would have run into so many guards by now if it weren’t for her. It’s slow going, sometimes they have to hide in an empty cell until the guards have passed, and sometimes they have to go a long way round, but as long as they don’t get caught, Sokka is not complaining.

There’s a flying lemur on top of Zuko’s head. A flying lemur that has somehow managed to fall asleep on Zuko’s head. He doesn’t dare move the tiniest bit, but no, he’s not complaining.

Teo keeps grinning at him. “What are we playing next?”

“How about …” The Duke makes another face at his own reflection in the freshly polished helmet. He has hair. It’s dark and fluffy. Somehow, Zuko didn’t imagine him to have hair. “How about hide and seek?”

“You mean hide and explode?” Zuko asks.

“What?” Teo says.

“What what?” Zuko replies.

“No,” The Duke says, “I mean hide and seek. Two people hide, one person goes looking until he finds them.”

“Um,” Zuko says. “I don’t think that will work.”

The Duke looks at him. “Why not?”

“Because,” Teo says, trying and failing to make his chuckle pass for a cough, “Zuko would have to move and Momo would wake up.”

“Uh …” Zuko very pointedly does not look at the prison cell surrounding him. “Yes, that’s the reason.” The sleeping lemur on his head slaps him in the face with his tail. Zuko takes this to be the punishment for lying.

Dad blinks up at them, shielding his eyes with his hand against the sudden light. “My son?” he croaks. Sokka is surprised Dad was able to identify him even though he must only be a shadow against the bright background, but then he continues, “What have you done to my son?!”, and something in Sokka’s chest feels like it might break in half.

Dad looks horrible, there’s a bruise on his cheek and dried blood on his lip and he’s sitting on the ground with his knees to his chest. The cell is tiny, without even enough room to lie down in, and there’s no blanket, no chair, no window, nothing.

“Dad.” Sokka’s voice breaks. “Dad, it’s me.” He drops to his knees and flings himself into Dad’s arms.

“Sokka?” There’s a shaky exhale close to Sokka’s ear. “Are you alright?”

“I could be worse. The others got me out before …”

“Dad!”

“Katara?”

There’s some jostling, and another pair of arms wraps around the both of them. Dad hisses, tensing up.

Katara immediately lets go. “Sorry. Are you injured?”

“Nothing to worry about.” Dad shifts a little bit, not letting go of Sokka. “Come back here.”

She does, more careful, this time. Sokka’s shoulder is pressed against the wall now, there’s barely enough room in the cell for the three of them, but he couldn’t care less. His family is back together. His family is going to be fine.

“Dad …” Sokka tries to swallow the lump in his throat. “They said they would start punishing me for everything you do. And if Aang hadn’t arrived in time, they would have … they would have made you watch while … while they—”

Dad’s hug becomes so tight it presses all of the air out of Sokka’s lungs, giving him the perfect excuse not to finish that sentence. “The Fire Nation’s malice knows no bounds.”

Not everyone in the Fire Nation is like that, Sokka would like to say, but this is neither the time nor the place for that conversation.

First, they need to make it out of this horrible prison.

“Come. Let’s get out of here.” He stands up and grabs Dad’s hand to give him a leg-up.

Teo sticks his hand into the bag lying on his lap, rummages for a moment, and pulls out the next item. “Who’s this?” he asks, giving it to Zuko.

It’s the framed picture of Uncle. Zuko’s throat closes up, and a smile pulls on his lips while his eyes are burning. “That’s my uncle,” he whispers, not trusting his voice. The glass is cool and smooth beneath his fingers.

“Is he nice?” Teo asks.

‘Nice’ doesn’t begin to describe it, but Zuko doesn’t know how to explain, so he just nods. “He was like a father to me.” Like a father should have been.

What would Uncle say, if he could see Zuko now? That he got what he deserved, for betraying him? Or would he … maybe … just a tiny little bit … be proud of Zuko for leaving the Fire Nation to join the Avatar? Not that Uncle would just forgive him, of course, Zuko doesn’t deserve Uncle’s forgiveness, but …

Teo smiles. “You can keep it,” he says, like he said with all the other items.

“Thank you.” Zuko is under no illusion that he’ll be allowed to keep all of this stuff if the others come back, but he can at least enjoy it for now.

“What’s next?” The Duke asks, pressing the helmet Momo has curled up in to his chest.

Teo pulls out the next item.

“No,” Zuko says, taking a step backwards.

“Cooooool!” The Duke exclaims, loud enough for Momo to raise his head and blink at them. “You have a sword?”

Zuko shakes his head. “Two swords.”

Teo pulls the dao from their sheath, inspects the handle, and separates the two blades. “Wow.”

The Duke puts the helmet with Momo inside on the ground and takes the dao from Teo. “Jet had two swords!” He swings them through the air. “Can you show me how to use them?” he asks, and—

And offers the weapons to Zuko.

“Um.” Zuko looks at Teo. Teo shrugs. Zuko clasps his hands behind his back. “No. I don’t think I’m allowed to have those. Even for a moment.” If Katara comes back and the children tell her that Zuko was using swords, he’s dead.

“Aww.” The Duke pouts. “Why not?”

“Because, um. I’m your prisoner?”

“Oh,” The Duke says. “I forgot.”

Dad still remembers the way from the solitary cells to the yard, and they make it there without running into anyone. There are definitely guards in the yard, though, so it’s time for Suki’s strategy.

They step out into the open, not trying to hide anymore. It only takes a moment for someone to spot them, because there are no other prisoners in the yard, and certainly none wearing orange or green or blue.

“You!” A guard shouts. “Stop there!” She comes running. A second guard as well. And a third. And a fourth.

Soon, a dozen guards are circling them, all of them in firebending stances.

Sokka takes a deep breath, and uses his most authoritative voice. “Back off! All of you!”

One of the guards sneers. “And why would we do that?”

“Because,” Suki says, “if you don’t, we’ll kill our hostage.” She hauls the warden from the center of their group to the front so the guards can see him. He’s struggling, and making noises through the gag, but the handcuffs are just as useful for restraining the warden as they are for restraining prisoners. Which is good, because who knows, the guy might be crazy enough to let himself get killed just to keep prisoners from escaping.

Not that they’d actually kill him, but still. The guards had better believe it. It must be worth something that they dragged that struggling guy with them through half of the prison complex.

“Aang,” Sokka says. “Now.”

Aang blows into the bison whistle, which doesn’t make a sound just like it never does, and Sokka still has his doubts that the whistle really works, because how, but then Appa appears over the top of the surrounding volcano, and, well, it doesn’t really matter how.

Sokka turns back to the guards. “You will let the bison land without attacking,” he commands. “And then you will let us through to him.”

The guards look at the warden. The warden …

The warden shakes his head.

Oh, damn.

Some of the guards ignite their fire whips. “We’re not falling for your ploy,” one of them says, his gaze on Suki. “I don’t think you have it in you to kill someone, girl.”

“Katara,” Dad says, without letting the guards out of sight. “I need a weapon.”

“Uh, I don’t … I didn’t bring any—”

“An icicle!”

“Oh, right, wait a moment … Here.”

Dad steps forward to where Suki is still holding their hostage, takes the warden into a headlock so he can’t shake his head anymore, and points the tip of the icicle into the warden’s face. “Stand down,” he repeats, “or the warden will lose an eye. Attack us or the bison and you can watch him bleed to death.”

Wow. He sounds convincing enough that even Sokka almost believes him. That makes both Dad and Katara terrifying, and Sokka the only one in the family incapable of scaring opponents into doing something. Great.

Unfortunately, he’s not the only one in the group who finds Dad’s acting to be very convincing. “Uh …” Aang starts, and Sokka quickly covers the boy’s mouth with his hand.

“Shush,” Sokka whispers. “Let him. He’s bluffing.”

… Hopefully.

The guards are hesitating. They don’t attack, but when Appa lands behind them, half of them run around their group to face him, and now all of them are standing between Team Avatar and their only way out. Appa seems to be scared of the fire whips, because he doesn’t come any closer.

“What are you waiting for?” Dad calls to the guards. From his place next to Aang, Sokka can’t see exactly what Dad is doing, only a subtle shift in position, but the warden starts squirming, and the noises he’s making go up in pitch. “You think I won’t do it?” Dad continues. “Really?”

The guards whisper to each other, their faces panicked. Sokka almost feels bad for them because he knows what panic is now. Then one of them speaks up. “Everyone, stand down! Do what he says!”

Sokka sighs in relief, and lets go of Aang’s mouth. The guards back away, Appa trudges closer, no one attacks, no one gets impaled with an icicle, and Team Avatar climbs into Appa’s saddle unhindered. Suki and Dad drag the warden with them.

Dad raises his voice so that all the guards can hear him. “If you don’t want the warden to tragically fall into the boiling lake, you’ll let us fly away without attacking. Behave yourselves, and we’ll set him down on the outer volcano, and you can go and pick him up in one piece.” And then quieter, “Go. Now! Before they change their minds.”

“Appa, yip yip!” Aang says, propelling himself onto the bison’s head in order to take the reins.

And then they’re flying. And no one sends a fireball after them.

The prison becomes smaller and smaller, and there are still no fireballs. A laugh escapes Sokka’s mouth. Katara hugs him again, and Toph punches his shoulder. They made it. They actually made it.

Suki and Dad are still holding on to the warden, and Sokka doesn’t miss the glance they’re exchanging. Nor Suki’s subtle shake of the head. And nope, he does not want to know what would have happened if Suki had nodded, but he does break off the hug to grab one of the warden’s ankles just to make extra sure their hostage doesn’t accidentally fall overboard.

Then they’ve crossed the boiling lake, and fly over the ridge of the crater, and descend on the other side to land near the seashore. “Off you go,” Dad says, and escorts the warden down Appa’s tail before climbing back into the saddle.

Suki grins her mischievous grin that Sokka loves so much. “I’m afraid your record is now officially broken,” she says, leaning over the edge of the saddle to look down at the warden. He seems … smaller, outside of his prison. “Here’s to hoping we’ll never see each other again,” she adds. “For your sake.”

The warden obviously can’t answer, but he’s glaring daggers at them in reply. Which he’s been doing for a while already, so no one is really impressed.

“Bye bye!” Sokka calls once they’re taking off again, and then turns around to enjoy the wind on his face, and the smell of salt on the cool air, and the sight of the endless, endless ocean of freedom.

There’s a certain kind of freedom in portraying someone else. In not being Zuko anymore, the constant disappointment, the crown prince whose own nation sees him as a traitor, the idiot who got himself taken prisoner by the people he wants to help. There’s freedom in being the mighty Dragon Emperor instead, or the mysterious Dragon Empress, or even the cunning Dark Water Spirit.

“Though I was trapped in the body of a mortal,” he continues reading, “you willingly gave me your heart! I cannot help but give you mine in return!—Only with your glory hidden in false form could you finally recognize my devotion!” Zuko puts the theater scroll on the ground and forces himself to look up at the children. They’re not laughing at him, for some reason. No, they’re … they’re clapping. Even though his Dragon Emperor was nowhere near as good as Azula’s always was. At least he has experience reenacting the Dark Water Spirit, because she always made him play the part of the loser.

“One more scene,” The Duke pleads, for the tenth time. “Just one more scene!”

“Um. The play is finished here.” Zuko picks up the scroll, showing that he’s reached the end.

The Duke sags. “Awww.” Then his face lights up. “Start again from the beginning?”

“Uh …” Zuko has to cough and reaches for the waterskin to soothe his sore throat. He hasn’t spent this much time speaking in … weeks, at least. Possibly years. Possibly never.

Teo picks up Momo and sets him on his shoulder. “We should give Zuko a break. Then maybe he can read for us again tomorrow?”

“Uh …” Tomorrow is a concept Zuko doesn’t like thinking about. Tomorrow, the others might be back. Tomorrow, he might have broken bones again, or get manhandled, or restrained, or possibly killed. Of course he wants Sokka to return, and Toph and Aang too, but that means that Katara will be back, as well. Not that he wants her to be stuck in the Boiling Rock, he just doesn’t want her to be here. “Maybe?”

“Please please please,” The Duke says, “pleeeeaaaase!”

Zuko sighs. “Okay.”

“So …” Teo says, patting his stomach. “Lunch?”

They have lunch together. Like, together. They’re sitting in a loose triangle, and if it wasn’t for the bars between them, they might as well be a group of … of equals. Of three fellow human beings who are worth the same. For the first time since he got imprisoned, the children share a meal with him instead of just feeding him like a particularly dangerous pet in a cage. Even Sokka always ate with his friends, never with Zuko.

The Duke throws a goji-strawberry to Momo. “Can we keep on having this much fun together when the others are back?”

“I don’t know,” Zuko says.

“Please?”

Zuko sighs. “I don’t know.”

“But it was fun, wasn’t it?”

“Yes,” Zuko says, a smile stealing onto his face, “it was.”

The Duke beams. “Good! So what are we gonna play this afternoon?”

Chapter Text

They’re back. Zuko can make out Appa from far away already; he’s spent enough time searching for the flying bison over the past year, after all.

They land in a different part of the temple, but it’s not long before Sokka comes over.

“You’re late,” Zuko says, getting up and leaning against the bars. It’s good to see Sokka being perfectly alright. Perhaps Zuko will be able to ban the images of Sokka being stuck in the Boiling Rock forever from his mind now. Perhaps he can forgive himself for pointing Sokka at the prison in the first place.

“Yeah … We, uh …” Sokka scratches his neck. “… Got caught.”

“I told you so.”

“I know.” Sokka’s gaze lands on the small pile of Zuko’s belongings on the temple wall side of the cell, and he raises an eyebrow.

“Teo,” Zuko says.

“Ah.” Sokka doesn’t demand he hand any of it back, but Zuko didn’t expect Sokka to take things from him, anyway. Not Sokka, who won’t even be mad at Zuko for telling Katara about the Boiling Rock. Not Sokka, who won’t be mad at Zuko for not telling Katara about the Boiling Rock right away. Not Sokka, who won’t be mad at Zuko for anything. “Sorry I didn’t think of giving you any of your stuff.” 

Zuko shrugs. It’s not like Katara will let him keep it, in any case. He has already positioned everything next to the bars so she can take it away. Yes, she let him keep the waterskin Sokka gave him, but surely, that was only because it was more practical than having someone bring him water several times a day.

Sokka hands him a small bag. “Brought you a snack.”

Zuko looks inside. It’s jerky. Sokka’s precious jerky. Sokka’s precious jerky that was so well hidden that Teo and The Duke couldn’t find it. “Thank you.”

“No problem.” Sokka hesitates. “Did they give you enough food?”

“Yeah.”

“Water?”

“Yes.”

Sokka shifts his weight from one foot to the other. “Did they … They didn’t … Did they?”

The question comes as a bit of a surprise, after all this time. So far, Sokka has always acted oblivious to Katara’s not-so-subtle threats, and how she resorts to violence whenever Zuko so much as looks at Aang wrong, or says something she doesn’t want to hear. But then, Sokka has been to the Boiling Rock now. Sokka has been a prisoner in the Boiling Rock now. That’s an experience that is likely to make anyone aware of what it means to be at the mercy of others.

… Not that anyone in the Boiling Rock will know the meaning of ‘mercy.’ Zuko carefully looks Sokka over, but he doesn’t seem to be in pain, doesn’t sport any bruises or cuts or anything. Then again, Sokka has been in Katara’s vicinity for at least the time of the flight back here. She might have healed any injuries he had.

Zuko sighs. “They treated me well, Sokka.”

Sokka nods, not quite meeting Zuko’s eyes. “Of course. I knew that. Just making sure.” He gives Zuko a grin that looks more like a grimace. “Um … Do you need anything?”

“I’m fine.”

“Do you want your waterskin refilled?”

“It’s still half full.”

“How are the ribs? Are you feeling alright?”

Zuko rolls his eyes at Sokka’s attempts to … whatever Sokka is attempting to do. “I’m fine.”

“You always say that, though. It has kinda lost its meaning.”

“Everything is good, okay? You can stop pestering me.” Zuko pulls out some jerky and takes a bite. It’s delicious.

Sokka looks at his shoes, then at the ceiling, then at the canyon, anywhere but at Zuko. “Are you still angry at me?”

“Um.” Zuko frowns. “Why would I be?”

“I thought you were before I left, because, you know … I shouldn’t have threatened you. I was only bluffing, I would never set Katara on you to, you know, interrogate you—but I’m still sorry. And I guess I … didn’t handle that … whole healing situation very well.”

He didn’t, really, he just stood by and let them manhandle Zuko all they liked … But he also did it because he wanted Zuko to get healed. So. “I already guessed you were bluffing. In hindsight.” The truth is, he was mostly angry at Sokka for causing Katara to punish him worse than a few broken ribs, but she hasn’t, so far. “It’s okay, Sokka. I’m just glad you’re back.”

“Yeah. Me too.” Sokka finally looks at him, relief in his eyes.

“I take it you found your dad?”

“Yeah.” A smile spreads on Sokka’s face, a real one, this time. “And Suki, too.”

“Who’s Suki?”

“She’s, uh …” He twiddles his thumbs, looking off into the sky. “A girl.”

“Wow. I wouldn’t have guessed.”

“And a warrior,” Sokka adds, not even acknowledging Zuko’s expert use of sarcasm. “You’ve met her before, actually.”

This is not boding well. “Have I?”

“You kicked her ass.”

“Great.”

“And um … sort of … set fire to her village. Kyoshi Island? Remember?”

Yeah, this is not boding well at all. “Terrific. I can’t wait to meet her again.”

“Why are you sounding so sarcastic? She’s awesome,” Sokka says, reddening. Oh. So it’s a girl he’s infatuated with. “They’re settling in right now, but I’ll introduce you later.”

… Still not boding well. “Better not.”

“Why not?”

“They won’t like me.” No one ever likes him, when they first meet him. Or meet him for a second time. Or a third, for that matter. People just don’t like him.

Especially not people whose villages he set fire to.

“Um,” Sokka says, motioning to the cell. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but you’re sitting around in a giant prison cell in the middle of the temple. You’re hard to miss. I can’t not introduce you.”

“My prison cell may be a lot of things, but it’s not giant.”

“Still hard to miss.” Sokka pauses. “Um, do you need more space?”

“Of course I need more space,” Zuko snaps. “Who wouldn’t?”

“… Yeah,” is all that Sokka replies, looking down at his hands. Then he scratches his neck again. “I’ll, uh … I’ll talk to Toph about it. I’ll be back later.”

The jerky doesn’t taste as good anymore while he’s watching Sokka leave. Today is not going to be a good day. There might not be another good day for a long while. Or ever.

Not just one, but two new people. Sokka’s girlfriend or not-yet-girlfriend who will want to take revenge on him, and … and the Chief. The Chief who spent as much time in a Fire Nation prison as Zuko spent in his cell. The Chief who undoubtedly had a worse time in prison than Zuko did. The Chief who lost his wife in a Fire Nation raid. The Chief who left his village and his tribe and his children to fight against the Fire Nation. Who must hate the Fire Nation. Who has probably killed people from the Fire Nation. The Chief who is not only Sokka’s father, but Katara’s as well.

So two new people who will hate Zuko.

He didn’t think this through when he told Sokka about the Boiling Rock. He never thinks things through.

The cell is so big. So big. The ceiling is so high Zuko can’t reach it even when he’s standing on tiptoes, and he can run through an entire kata without being stopped by a wall. Which, of course, he promptly does. And then does a second one, because it felt so good. And a third. He’s in the middle of the fourth, when—

“Zuko.”

He flinches, looses his footing, stumbles, thankfully does not fall.

Katara is glaring at him with her arms crossed. How can he have been so distracted with his kata that he didn’t notice the footsteps?

“I …” he starts, wanting to say I didn’t do anything, but it’s too obviously a lie, because she saw him practice his forms. Practicing forms is practicing fighting. Fighting is not allowed, with or without fire. “I …” I’m sorry? She never cared about that, Father never cared about that, Father hated it when Zuko apologized. “I …” Won’t do it again? As if that’ll change that he already did it.

He’s standing in the middle of his cell, and the cell is so big, and if she throws him against the wall all the way from here, he’ll break more than just three ribs. Is that why she allowed Toph to give him more space? Or hasn’t she allowed it, and just found out, and is going to punish him for asking for a bigger cell?

“What exactly,” Katara asks, “is so hard to understand about no sudden movements? You do remember that I told you to take it easy on your ribs for at least a week?”

Zuko takes a step backwards. Maybe if he gets close enough to the wall before her water whacks him the rest of the way, he won’t end up too badly injured. “Yes.”

“How many days has it been?”

“… Five.”

“How many days are there in a week?”

“Seven.” Another step backwards. He needs Toph here. Why isn’t Toph here? Not … Not that she’d necessarily advocate for him again; just because she did it once, doesn’t mean she’ll do it again, but—

“Then what I said,” Katara says, “means no workouts for at least another two days. There’s only so much waterbending healing can do in a single session. Your ribs need time to rebuild their strength. Unless—” She doesn’t finish the sentence. Because she’s not looking at him anymore. “Um,” Katara says, “what’s this?”

She walks over to where his belongings are piled up next to the bars.

Zuko exhales, and tries to mentally prepare himself for her anger—more anger—and takes another two steps backwards while she isn’t watching. “Teo gave my things to me. I—I mean,” he quickly adds when he realizes his mistake, “of course they’re not mine anymore, I just meant they were mine when … Anyway. You can take them away.”

He can only hope that handing everything over without having to be ordered to will mitigate her fury some.

Frowning, Katara examines each item individually: the Fire Nation style waterskin with some stale water still inside; the theater scroll of Love Amongst the Dragons, worn with use because he’s read it so often; the two candles; the box that used to contain sizzle-crisps but was already empty when Teo gave it to him; the jar of jasmine tea; the map of the Earth Kingdom; the bracelet Mom used to wear whenever Father was out of the palace; and the framed portrait of Uncle. Things that were his but are missing from the pile: his tent, his blanket, his knife, his swords.

Katara looks back up at him. “You don’t want your things to be here?”

“Um.” Zuko doesn’t know what to say. What he wants or doesn’t want is never really the question, is it? So she’s trying to catch him in a lie. “I want them,” he admits, knowing that if she had any doubts about whether to let him have his belongings or not, she will definitely take everything from him now.

“Then why should I take them away?”

“Because …” Is this some strategy to make him confess that he acted against her rules knowingly? If it is, he doesn’t know how to avoid it. “I’m not allowed to have them.”

Katara shrugs. “I don’t care either way. You can keep your stuff if you want to.”

No way. She can’t just let him get away with this. She’ll … She’ll …

“No workouts for the next two days, am I clear?”

He takes a deep breath, and another step backwards. “Yes.” Why is the wall still not there?

“You can keep on practicing your forms afterwards, but start slowly. This is not a permanent rule, alright? I didn’t mind you exercising before your injury, and I won’t mind as soon as it’s properly healed. These are doctor’s orders to you as a patient, not to you as a prisoner.”

Does that … Does that mean she knew about his secret workouts? And didn’t do anything about them? Did she just let him train?

“Unless,” she says, “you let me do a second healing session to strengthen the bone structure?”

Another step. He quickly glances over his shoulder. Still too far away from the wall. “No.” He can’t quite keep the scowl off his face. “If you want to damage my organs with your healing powers, you’ll have to force me, I certainly won’t just let you.”

Katara blinks. “Damage your … I … What?”

She can, of course, force him. It’s well within her abilities, and he probably shouldn’t have pointed that option out.

“Zuko,” she says, and continues slowly, as if she has to think about every word, “do you think I offered to heal you so that I could harm you?”

He scowls at her, because what kind of stupid question is that? “Obviously.”

Katara’s face does weird things. There’s a frown that could be anything from anger to confusion, and a twist to her mouth that could be frustration or … or maybe pain? But that doesn’t make any sense. “Zuko, my offer was real. I would never use waterbending healing to intentionally cause damage. That’s not even possible.”

“Isn’t it?”

“No, it’s …” She hesitates. “Okay, honestly, I don’t really know. I’ve never heard of it and I’ve certainly never tried. I don’t injure people on purpose.”

It’s not a convincing lie. “Uh-huh.”

“I’m not lying. I told you the broken ribs were an accident!”

Don’t talk back. Don’t talk back. “Uh-huh.”

Katara’s face falls. “You don’t believe me, do you?”

Trick question. If he says no, he’s basically calling her a liar, which she’ll count as an insult. If he says he believes her, she’ll accuse him of lying. So … he just doesn’t say anything.

She sighs, and her face still looks like she’s in pain. “If you don’t trust me, trust Toph. She would have thrown a rock against my head if I’d intentionally injured you.”

That does sound like Toph, alright. She did stand up for him to Katara. And she did say Katara is feeling guilty. Toph would know, right? So maybe it was an accident.

Which doesn’t mean that Katara can’t still take advantage of it now. Even if waterbending healing powers really can’t be abused, there’s still one other option. “And what about bloodbending?”

He must have hit the nail on the head, because her mouth falls open and now she’s the one taking a step backwards. “How do you know about bloodbending?”

“Sokka mentioned it.” Sokka won’t mind that Zuko tells her about that, right? Or is Katara going to be mad now? Because … Because Sokka did say that Katara never wanted to learn bloodbending. Maybe it was supposed to be a secret.

“I will never use bloodbending again. Ever. Against anyone. Not if there’s any other choice.”

Which is not reassuring, because that last part is the important part: whenever she thinks she has no other choice, she’ll use it. And if anyone knows how easy it is to convince yourself that you have no other choice, it’s Zuko.

“Listen,” she says, “even if I wanted to use bloodbending, I couldn’t. It only works during the full moon.”

Zuko’s mind has just run into a brick wall, and now it’s reeling.

No. No no no no no. Does that mean he’s been terrified of getting bloodbent all this time for nothing?

She could be lying, obviously. But … But it would be a stupid lie, because Zuko can just ask Sokka about it, and Sokka will tell him the truth. And Katara knows that. So … It probably is the truth.

“Didn’t Sokka mention that?” Katara asks.

“No.” A numbness creeps through Zuko’s chest, smothering any other feeling. “He must have forgotten.” How can someone forget to mention such an important detail?

… How can someone forget to feed a prisoner?

Katara rolls her eyes. “That’s so typical.” And then, as if remembering that Zuko is an enemy and she’s not supposed to let down her guard, she becomes serious again, straightens her back, and looks him right into the eyes. He doesn’t dare to move closer to the wall anymore, but if she’s going to attack him, she’s going to do it soon, and he has no other option but to hope his body will still be functional after this. “Zuko, I’m aware I wasn’t exactly nice to you, and I get that you’re … hesitant to trust me. And I don’t trust you either, I’ll still have my eyes on you … But I’m not going to harm you unless you give me a very good reason. So my offer to check up on your ribs was sincere, and I promise you’ll walk out of it unharmed.”

If she’s lying, she must be really good at it. Then again, Zuko is terrible at spotting lies.

She’s looking at him expectantly, so uh … she’s probably waiting for a reply. “Still no,” he says, even though this will probably cause her to stop bluffing and start attacking.

Katara sighs. “Fine. You didn’t hurt anything with your jumping around just now, did you?”

“No.”

She looks at him for another moment. “Okay.” And … And then she leaves. No waterbending. No shouting. No breaking his belongings in front of him to teach him not to accept things from anyone.

She’s trying to lure him into a false sense of security, and he’s not going to fall for it, damn it.

“I present to you,” Sokka says, making a sweeping gesture with his arms, “the canyon.” They’re standing at the edge of the canyon, and it’s quite obviously a canyon, but still.

Suki leans forward carefully to look down into the mist. She’s pretty in Katara’s stolen Fire Nation clothes—of course, she’s pretty in any clothes—and probably also without clothes—Which, uh … better not to think about. “Seems deep,” she says.

“It is,” Sokka confirms, trying to get rid of his recent line of thought because otherwise he’ll blush terribly. “I threw down a stone to find out exactly how deep. If you take into account the speed of a falling object and the time it takes to reach the ground, you can deduce the height of the fall, you know?”

“And what height did you deduce?” Dad asks. He’s the only one still wearing the horrible prison garb, because they don’t have any other clothes his size.

“We’re so high I couldn’t hear the stone land.”

Dad laughs, making Sokka beam. It’s so good to have Dad back. It’s just great. Everything’s great. Katara healed Sokka’s wounds on the flight back, he’s wearing his Water Tribe clothes again, and he feels like a new man.

(And also, seeing Dad laugh is so much better than thinking about the flight, about how Sokka had to look away while Katara healed Dad’s back, because—because fire whips, and Sokka would have thrown up in Appa’s saddle if he’d spent one more second looking at—And, and to think that Dad had insisted Katara heal Sokka first, as if any of his tiny burns or bruises were even remotely comparable to—)

(And everyone noticed that he looked away, and Suki—Suki who bravely held Dad’s hand as if she was the adult and Dad was the child—Suki told Sokka to go and join Aang on Appa’s head to check they’re on the right course, but everyone knew she just said that because she thought he was too weak to handle seeing—)

(And he went anyway because he was too weak to handle it.)

Laughing together is so much better.

“And who’s that?” Dad asks, having caught sight of the cell to the side of the balcony and the prince sitting behind the bars.

“Oh, yeah, that’s Prince Zuko.” Sokka tries to be nonchalant about it. He’s glad to see that the cell is much bigger than it was before, and is actually pretty giant now—not that he has any delusions that any size of prison cell could ever be big enough.

Dad stares. “The one you mentioned hunting you all over the world? The one Katara said helped kill Aang?”

“That’s the one. He’s now our prisoner.” Nope, he’s not puffing out his chest, he’s just … he’s just that tall.

“If he’s your prisoner,” Dad says, glancing back at the cell, “why is he playing snow-rat in the middle with the kid and the lemur?”

“Well, what else is Zuko supposed to do?”

Dad looks at him as if Sokka’s reply didn’t make the least bit of sense. “Sokka, you can’t … You can’t keep a firebender prisoner. It’s too dangerous.”

“Don’t worry, we have him under control.”

“You never have a firebender under control. His hands aren’t even bound.”

Sokka shrugs. “Doesn’t help much when he can breathe fire.”

“He can breathe fire? And you’re telling me he’s not dangerous?”

“Because he isn’t. I’ve come up with three rules to handle the situation, and he’s been following them diligently. Well … mostly.”

Dad pinches the bridge of his nose. “Do I want to know what you mean by ‘mostly’?”

“Well, he did once breathe fire at me—”

“He did what?”

“—but it was an accident. We had a little misunderstanding, you know, and he thought I was threatening him, even though I totally wasn’t.”

“And his response to that was breathing fire at you? Sokka …”

“I know, Dad. Can we just pretend that you’ve already finished your lecture about the danger of firebenders? Because I know all of it, and it doesn’t change my mind concerning Zuko.”

Apparently, that’s not how lectures work. “Sokka,” Dad starts, “putting someone in a cell isn’t enough to ensure your safety. It isn’t enough to keep someone under control. You should have asked the guards at the Boiling Rock how putting me in a cell worked out for them, and I’m not even a bender.”

Probably not very well, Sokka can imagine. There must have been a reason why all the guards seemed to hate Dad with a passion, even before their escape attempt.

“I don’t blame you, Sokka,” Dad continues, “we made a similar mistake once. We captured a Fire Nation soldier for questioning and it turned out he was a bender. We thought we could question him anyway.” Dad runs a hand down his face. “Believe me, it was a lesson we only needed to be taught once.”

Sokka suppresses a shudder. He’s this close to asking who died—how many died—but he can’t bring his mouth to form the words. “Okay,” he says instead, “Zuko might be potentially dangerous, but we’re Team Avatar! There’s nothing we can’t handle.” Except, maybe, the realities of war. But he has to be able to handle them, because he has to be a warrior. “Like I said, we totally have him under control. Most of the time, I take care of him myself.” Sokka pulls himself up to his full height. After his failure on the Day of Black Sun and his failure at the Boiling Rock, he has at least this small success to show.

Dad puts a hand on Sokka’s shoulder, a much too knowing expression on his face. “Sokka, you don’t need to prove anything. I know how courageous you are, you don’t have to put yourself in danger.”

“I’m not trying to prove anything,” he says, because he’s not. That would be ridiculous.

Dad walks over to the cell, Sokka and Suki on his heels. Zuko, sitting on the ground and reaching for the berry he and The Duke have been tossing back and forth, stops dead in his tracks, which gives Momo the chance to snatch the berry and eat it.

Dad is not one for hiding around corners, but his hand is resting on the hilt of his knife—Zuko’s knife, to be exact, which Katara has given Dad when he asked for a weapon. Sokka can see Zuko notice, too. The prince doesn’t say anything, but he doesn’t do anything either, doesn’t stand up and doesn’t move, just stays perfectly still.

“You,” Suki growls, suddenly tense. “You’re the one who burned down my village!”

Zuko wrenches his gaze away from Dad’s knife to look at her, grimaces, and folds his hands in his lap. “I’m sorry.”

“You will be sorry when I’m finished with you.”

Zuko curls in on himself a little, but there’s more anger in his voice than fear. “But I already am sorry,” he repeats. “What more do you want me to say?”

“The truth.”

Sokka clears his throat and goes to stand between them, even though the bars already do a great job of preventing a physical fight. “No need to fight, Suki, he doesn’t usually lie. Unless you ask him if he’s alright.”

“What, does he always complain about trifles?”

“No,” Sokka says. “He always insists he’s fine.”

Zuko scowls. Momo, deprived of the berry-chasing game, flies onto Zuko’s head and starts pulling his hair. Zuko lets him, glaring up at Sokka.

It’s the best example of exactly why Zuko isn’t dangerous to them, but Dad’s hand is tight around the knife handle as if he expects Zuko to fry the lemur, and he takes a step forward so he’s as close to the bars as Sokka is. Dad’s eyes are narrowed, sweeping over Zuko’s things that are spread out near the far wall of his cell: the parka neatly folded, the scroll held open by the bracelet, a candle positioned on each side of the framed picture. “Sokka, what do you even want with him? Are you holding him for ransom?”

“What? No. Who would pay money to get him back?” Sokka says. “No offense, Zuko.”

“Shut up,” Zuko growls instead of teasing Sokka back. Apparently, he’s in a grumpy mood, even though Sokka has given him the jerky, and asked Toph to enlarge the cell. Some days, Zuko is just like that, and there’s nothing to do about it.

Dad turns back to Sokka. “He’s not very well-behaved, for a prisoner you supposedly have under control.”

“This is nothing,” Sokka replies, waving it off. “You should’ve seen him when he was still hunting us. He was practically yelling the entire time.”

“Yelling or not,” Suki says, “he’s still the same person who burned down Kyoshi Island.”

Sokka crosses his arms. They’re getting this wrong. “Yes, he’s the same person, but he’s not as prone to burning things anymore.”

“He’s fooling you,” Suki insists. “His sister is the reason I ended up at the Boiling Rock! And you leave him alone with the child?”

“I’m eight!” The Duke yells.

Suki raises an eyebrow. “You leave him alone with an eight-year-old?”

“They get along fine,” Sokka says, “at least since The Duke stopped poking Zuko with a stick.”

“And the prince let himself get poked?” Dad asks with a side-glance at The Duke as if he needs to check the kid is still alive.

“Well …” Sokka shrugs. “We didn’t really give him a choice.” Your choice, little bird, Giant Man’s voice echoes in Sokka’s mind. He winces at the memory. “Which, uh … probably wasn’t very nice.”

“Oh, really?” Zuko grumbles.

“Yeah, um. Sorry about that.”

Zuko glares at him for another moment, then sighs. “Whatever. You could have done a lot worse.”

“… Yeah,” Sokka replies, trying to banish Giant Man’s image from his mind.

Dad is glancing between them again, and his frown is getting deeper. “Sokka, I feel I need to repeat my question. What do you want with him?”

“Nothing. He came here and said he’s changed and wants to join us, we didn’t trust him enough to actually let him, then he burned Toph’s feet—”

“Accidentally,” Zuko cuts in. “I accidentally burned her feet.”

Sokka nods. “Yeah, sorry, I should have mentioned that. Anyway, we decided the world would be better off without him, so we took him prisoner.”

Dad’s face is grave. “If the world is better off without him, why is he still alive?”

“Why wouldn’t he—Oh. Uh. Dad, we can’t kill him.”

“… Because?”

“Because,” Sokka says, motioning at the prince who is letting Momo curl up on his lap, “he’s just, you know, just Zuko. He’s, like, almost a child.”

“I’m a year older than you, and you know it,” Zuko snaps, his angry expression ruined completely by the fact that he’s scratching Momo behind the ears.

“Also, he’s kinda funny when he’s grumpy. And sometimes when I tease him, he teases me back, which is even funnier than when he’s grumpy.” Hopefully, Zuko gets the hint and stops being so spirits-damned sullen. If he continues acting like this, Dad and Suki will get a completely wrong picture of him. “And he can play middle of two words for hours.”

“Sokka …” Dad says, and it sounds like it’s a whole sentence with another lecture.

Sokka sighs. “I know, Dad. You’ll have to see him in a better mood to understand. He can be a bit of a grouch sometimes.”

Zuko jumps to his feet, his face red, a trail of smoke coming out of his nose, and Momo screeches and flees from the cell, and Dad pushes Sokka behind himself, knife raised, and Suki steps in front of The Duke, entering a fighting stance. It happens so fast, Sokka’s brain needs a moment to catch up with the situation.

“Whoa,” he says, edging out from behind Dad’s back. “Everyone calm down, okay?” He grabs Dad’s wrist to keep him from doing something rash. “Dad, put that away. Zuko isn’t going to attack us.”

Zuko, as if to make the worst impression he possibly can, chooses this moment to start yelling. “I can hear every word you say! So stop talking about me as if I wasn’t here!” He points a finger at Sokka, and Sokka has to sidestep Dad in order not to end up behind a human shield again. This is embarrassing, he’s not a little kid, for La’s sake. The fury in Zuko’s eyes is burning brightly, more smoke coming out of his mouth. “And also, this isn’t a zoo! Stop showing me off like … like some kind of prize!”

“Sorry,” Sokka says. He’s saying that a lot today. With all his excitement from their escape and finally having Dad and Suki back, it’s hard to accommodate Zuko’s bad mood. Zuko really couldn’t have picked a worse time for his relapse into grumpy-shouty Prince Jerkbender. “Should we leave you alone?”

“Yes, dammit!”

“Okay. I’ll be back with your dinner later, alright?”

Zuko looks away, scowling, and crosses his arms. “Whatever.”

Which is not exactly a yes, and there seem to be a lot of unsaid things in that word, but Zuko has made it clear enough that he doesn’t want to keep on talking right now. Better to leave him alone to cool down, and come back later without Dad and Suki. “Okay. Then, uh … let’s go.” Nudging The Duke along, Sokka guides the others in direction of the fountain area where Katara usually cooks. It doesn’t escape his notice that Dad only sheathes the knife once they’re out of Zuko’s sight.

Chapter Text

Why is he still alive?

The question keeps repeating in Zuko’s mind. The Chief’s voice steady, not full of hatred, not full of anger, just genuine curiosity mixed with confusion, and possibly concern. Zuko doesn’t know whether that’s better or worse than Katara’s threats.

After weeks of fear and hurt and hunger and anger and panic, he doesn’t have room for this anymore.

Zuko painstakingly avoids looking at Sokka while he’s eating, but he can feel Sokka’s gaze linger on him, and it makes his skin crawl. Why is Sokka even staying here, watching him? The silence is jarring, and Zuko eats as fast as he can, to get out of this situation as quickly as possible.

Why is he still alive?

It’s a good question, actually. Why hasn’t Katara killed him yet? Sure, he hasn’t broken her primary rule and hasn’t caused anyone harm, but she could have just made up an excuse by now. Father would have. Azula would have.

Finally, he’s finished with the stew. He hands his empty bowl back to Sokka, still without looking at him.

“More?” Sokka asks, already standing up.

Zuko shakes his head. He has lost his appetite.

Out of the corner of his eyes, he can see Sokka sit back down. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Zuko says. He doesn’t feel like talking to Sokka, after … after that introduction. Why does he keep on falling for people being nice to him? He should know better. Azula stabbed him in the back every time she was nice to him, of course Sokka isn’t any different. All of that friendliness was just an act. Sokka only needed him as entertainment and to brag.

Why does betrayal keep on hurting this much? Anyone would think he’d have gotten used to it by now.

“Zuko.”

“Get lost.”

“Zuko,” Sokka repeats, very much not getting lost. “Talk to me.”

Yeah, right. He’s supposed to be Sokka’s amusing showpiece prisoner, and he’s not doing a very good job of it right now. He’s not going to do a good job of it ever again. He’s worth more than that.

Putting all of his hurt into a glare, he finally turns to his enemy. “Fuck off!”

Sokka recoils as if he’s been slapped. The reaction gives Zuko a vindictive kind of pleasure. “Wh-What?” Sokka asks.

There’s too much nervous energy coiling in Zuko’s veins to keep sitting. He jumps to his feet, fists clenched to keep his hands from erupting in flame. “I said—” Smoke escaping his mouth, but he can’t bring himself to care. “—Fuck. Off.”

Leaving Zuko’s bowl on the ground, Sokka gets to his feet too, though not to back away. He isn’t quite reciprocating the glare, but he is frowning darkly. “I can tolerate a lot of your bad moods, you know, but there’s no need to talk to me like that.”

“No need?” The word feels like ash in his mouth, almost making him choke. “No need?!” Of course Sokka thinks that there’s no need, that Zuko has no right to be upset. Sokka never meant to be kind, never meant for Zuko to think their relationship is anything other than a prisoner and his captor. Zuko was just too stupid to see it. 

“Yes, no need,” Sokka snaps back, crossing his arms. “If you want to make the worst impression you possibly can in front of Dad so that I look like an idiot, that’s one thing, but—”

“If I want to make the worst impression?!” As if it’s his fault that the Chief wants to kill him, as if Sokka hadn’t intended for that outcome, as if he hadn’t freed his father from prison so that there’s an adult around to do the killing, now that Katara has apparently lost the guts to do it herself, due to Zuko being almost a child. After all, Sokka only said ‘we can’t kill him,’ not ‘you can’t kill him.’ That’s why Sokka asked Zuko about the Boiling Rock. “You set me up like a pig-chicken for the slaughter!”

Sokka is back to frowning. “For the slaughter? What are you talking about?”

Oh, so Sokka wants him to say it aloud. Fine. “Your dad’s going to kill me.” The words leave a bitter taste on his tongue.

Why is he still alive?

Sokka blinks. “Uh, no. He’s not.”

“Stop lying. He said—”

“I know what he said.”

“And you said—”

“I know what I said!” So Sokka is well aware of what he’s done, and he’s not even ashamed to admit it. Shame is only something for losers, for someone like Zuko.

Zuko bares his teeth. “Well then, if you think that the world is better off without me, leave. Me. Alone!”

“If I think …” The dumbfounded expression on Sokka’s face is a masterpiece of acting. “Zuko, that’s not what I think.”

“I said stop lying!” Zuko snarls. “I heard you! Everyone heard you!”

Sokka closes his eyes for a moment, his chest rising and falling with a deep breath. Zuko can’t help but wish for the time when Sokka was still scared of him, when Sokka would never have dared close his eyes in Zuko’s presence. That would at least have been a tiny, petty victory. Sokka rubs his forehead, opening his eyes again. “I was talking in the past tense.”

“What?”

“Past tense, Zuko. Past tense!” Sokka says as if it’ll make sense when he repeats it. “Back then, I thought the world would be better off without you. I don’t anymore, I’ve changed my mind since then! You changed my mind!” He looks Zuko right into the eyes, his gaze boring into the essence of Zuko’s being. “I didn’t even know you when we took you prisoner, but now I do. And now, I’m very glad you’re part of the world. I thought you know that.”

It can’t be true. Zuko wants it to be true so badly, but it can’t be. “But, but you only left me alive because you were bored and had fun teasing me and needed me to amuse you and keep you busy—”

“No!” Sokka presses the heels of his hands against his eyes. “Spirits. Zuko, that’s not what I was saying!” He drops his hands and steps forward, his gaze intense. “I was trying to tell Dad that I like spending time with you! Yes, you can be funny, and yes, I like it when we tease each other, but you’re not some kind of game to entertain me! I played middle of two words with you because you couldn’t sleep!” He starts gesticulating wildly. “I like talking to you because you’re smart and you have interesting opinions and I feel like I can open up to you, and even if I had a dozen other places to be and a dozen other things to do, I’d still choose to spend time with you! I mean, Suki is here, my dad is here, and I’m still choosing to stay here because I also like your company.”

Zuko takes a shaky breath. It hurts how much he wants those words to be true. “So you didn’t bust your father out of prison so that he can kill me?”

“No!” Sokka looks horrified. “Oh spirits, Zuko, how could you possibly think that?”

“Well …”

“There’s so much wrong with that statement, I don’t even know where to start!”

“Just start somewhere,” Zuko says, his voice embarrassingly whiny.

“Okay,” Sokka replies, instead of laughing at Zuko for sounding like a wailing pup-kitten. “First of all, I do not want you to die. Also, I went to rescue Dad from prison because I didn’t want him to be in prison. And thirdly, he’s not going to kill you.”

Why is he still alive?

“But he said—”

“I think he overlooked the past tense just like you did, and maybe he misunderstood what I was saying just like you did, but I’ll talk to him again tomorrow and make it clear what I meant.”

It sounds so easy. As if Zuko’s death sentence will be averted with a simple explanation. As if everything he’s been worried about, everything, was unfounded. He feels like Toph pulled the ground out from under his feet.

“Zuko,” Sokka says, taking another step closer. “No one is going to kill you. You misunderstood, like, everything I was trying to say. I want you to be here, and alive, and happy, and I enjoy spending time with you because I like you.”

Sokka’s eyes are sincere, and the words are like healing salve on a burn wound, and Zuko’s chest doesn’t feel as tight anymore.

“Do you understand?” Sokka asks.

Zuko doesn’t, really. He understands the general concept, but no one has ever just liked him.

… Apart from Mom. And Mai. And Uncle? Okay, maybe he’s not so unlikable, after all. “I think so.”

Sokka blows the air out of his mouth. They’re both silent for a moment.

“Are we good?” Sokka asks, his eyes pleading. Like a ‘no’ would hurt him; like he really cares about being on Zuko’s good side.

“… Yeah. We’re good.”

Another moment of silence. Sokka stares at him, and Zuko stares back, barely able to keep his hands from fidgeting. His face feels hot.

“Do you want more stew now?”

Zuko shrugs. “Yeah. Okay.”

Sokka doesn’t mean to eavesdrop, he doesn’t. But Katara and Dad aren’t far enough from the pot of stew, and the wind is snatching their words and carrying them to Sokka’s ears.

“—know he’s dangerous, Dad, I’m not stupid. I did everything in my power to make sure everyone’s safe.”

Sokka can’t see them, they must be sitting behind a pillar or something. He wishes he couldn’t hear them either, but, well … It’s not like he can close his ears.

The pot is almost empty, everyone was so hungry after the Boiling Rock, but at least they did leave a little bit over for Zuko. He starts scraping the leftovers into Zuko’s bowl.

“—behaved like a real Fire Nation prince, in the beginning. Kept on shouting while we interrogated him, kept on insulting me, kept on glaring at us. And I was so scared for everyone’s safety … Dad, I wanted him earthbent to the ground, unable to move.” It’s not lost on Sokka that Katara is speaking in the past tense, as well, nor the guilt in her voice. He has a feeling it’s lost on Dad, though.

“Then why isn’t he?”

“Well, he was for a while, but he argued that …”

Zuko’s bowl is only half full, but there’s still some stew stuck to the sides of the pot, maybe if he scrapes all of that together it’ll be enough to make up a proper second helping.

“—obviously never leave him alone with Aang, I’m not an idiot. I always supervise their lessons.”

“And the prince is really teaching Aang how to defeat the Fire Lord?”

“Honestly? I don’t know. During the first few lessons, Zuko covered nothing but meditation, until we made a deal that he’s allowed to use candles if he teaches Aang properly. Now it’s still going slow, but I think Aang has learned the basics all right.” Sokka is pretty sure Katara doesn’t mean to make it sound like Zuko only teaches Aang for his own gain, but that is what it sounds like, now that Sokka has learned to take more care of what he’s saying, of what anyone is saying.

“So Aang is ready to face the Fire Lord?”

The pot is as empty as Sokka can possibly achieve, and Zuko’s bowl still isn’t full. But Sokka now knows what it’s like to be stuck in a cell and hungry, and he doesn’t want Zuko to have to experience that ever again. They probably still have some fruits somewhere. In the bag that uh … Which bag? It should be right here, Teo disordered everything while he was in charge, this is pure chaos.

“But you think he might be fooling Toph?”

“Not really—well, his sister managed that—but there was this situation back in Ba Sing Se … He talked about his mother and his destiny and made it sound like he wouldn’t chase Aang anymore. And Toph recently asked him about that and says he meant it—but the next moment, he just changed his mind and went straight for the killing! What if he has another change of heart now? I can’t risk losing Aang.”

“I can’t risk losing you.”

“Oh, Dad! I can’t lose you either. Let me check on those burns again, you’re lucky the whip wounds were still fresh, if they’d gotten infected like the hand prints on your belly, it could have ended badly—”

Yeah, being reminded of how dangerous firebending can be is exactly what Dad needs right now to mistrust Zuko even more.

“I’m lucky to have you, Katara. Kya would be proud.”

Oh yes, thinking of Mom’s death also totally helps.

Ah, there the fruits are! Of course they had to be in the last bag he checked. He grabs a moon peach, Zuko likes those, and …

And …

And he should probably join Katara and Dad and explain to Dad what he really meant to say earlier, and explain what he thinks Katara meant to say just now, but … but he doesn’t want to admit he’s been eavesdropping, and he doesn’t want to see Dad’s back again, and anyway, Zuko is waiting for his food, Zuko needs him now, and talking to Dad can wait until tomorrow.

Sokka makes his way back to the cell, letting the voices fade behind him.

Zuko has finished his second helping a while ago and Sokka is still here, sitting in front of the bars with his legs stretched out and his back leaning against the temple wall. The silence isn’t as oppressing, this time.

“I now know what the difference is,” Sokka says eventually, without looking at him, “between a mean prison guard and a scary prison guard.”

“Congratulations.” The word is out of Zuko’s mouth before he realizes that there’s probably a reason Sokka is telling him this, and that the reason is probably his recent visit to a prison. Sokka looks so tired and … and somehow older than a few days ago. Zuko has no idea how to have this kind of conversation, but Sokka apparently needs to talk about this with someone, and Zuko is the one he decided to talk to, so. He stops focusing on the candle and looks at Sokka properly. “Learned it by observation,” Zuko asks quietly, “or the hard way?”

“… The hard way.” Sokka’s gaze is on the floor, but not really on the floor, more like at the bottom of the canyon.

Zuko doesn’t know what to say. Why isn’t Sokka talking about this with his friends, or his family? But Zuko won’t send him away, so he’d better come up with a reply. What would Uncle say, if he were here? Uncle would find something positive in the situation, he always does. “Well, at least …” Zuko begins, racking his brain. “At least you won’t forget the lesson anytime soon.”

Sokka glances up, and the haunted look in his eyes tells Zuko that it was the wrong thing to say, even though he was definitely right. “No,” Sokka says, “I won’t.” He’s silent for a moment, just staring at the flame that is still growing and shrinking with Zuko’s breaths. “I’m sorry I was mean to you in the beginning. I really am.”

The sincerity in Sokka’s voice sends crab-goosebumps up Zuko’s arms. “It’s okay. You had every right to mistrust me.”

But Sokka shakes his head. “Mistrust is one thing, but we had no reason to be this horrible to you.”

Zuko can think of a few reasons. More than a few. Zuko can think of crashing into a tiny village on the ice, can think of threatening people, kidnapping a child, can think of a dozen occasions of throwing fire at Aang and his friends, can think of that awful, fateful day in Ba Sing Se, of Aang’s tiny body going rigid, and then limp. But Sokka knows all of that, and he’s apologizing despite everything. Zuko might not be able to forgive himself, but he can at least forgive others.

“I forgive you, Sokka.”

Sokka finally looks at him. “Thank you.” He pauses. “And sorry for how I acted earlier today, you were right to be angry. I was just so excited, you know? I’m so happy to have Dad and Suki back, and I guess I … wanted to impress them.” A blush creeps up Sokka’s cheeks, but he bravely doesn’t look away again. “Because I failed so badly at the prison and at dealing with … with everything. And I didn’t take into account how what I said would make you feel. I’m sorry.”

It’s too many apologies, and Zuko doesn’t know what to do with them. Apologies are something for Father, not something for him. Not that Father ever forgave anyone simply because they apologized. “It’s okay, Sokka. I understand.” If there’s anything Zuko can understand, it’s trying to impress one’s father.

Sokka rests his chin on his knees, staring at the candle with a dark expression on his face. “I went to the Boiling Rock to regain my honor and instead … instead I was useless and had to be rescued like an idiot. And I’m supposed to be a warrior, but I wasn’t strong enough to … and I couldn’t even … I couldn’t even handle … Whereas you, you’re never this weak.”

Zuko snorts. “Where have you been the past weeks? Haven’t you seen me?”

“I mean …” Sokka glances at him. “I know you were sometimes scared, but you were never weak—”

“I almost cried on my first day here.”

“You …” Sokka blinks at him. “No way.” Then he sits up straighter. “Wait. You almost cried because of us? I’m so sorry!”

Zuko shrugs. “You already apologized for that, Sokka. I already forgave you.”

Sokka looks like he wants to say more, but then he just sighs. “You’re too good for this world.”

It’s a weird thing to say, and Zuko doesn’t know what to reply.

They sit in silence for a while.

A silence that becomes increasingly uncomfortable when Zuko realizes that—that Sokka just said he needs to impress his father. That he went to the Boiling Rock to regain his honor after his invasion plan failed. Oh Agni, why didn’t he see this coming? Why did he assume that Sokka loves his father, loves him the way Teo loves his father, that his father loves him back? He should have known better. After all, Zuko also loved his father—Zuko still loves him because he’s a moron—but love doesn’t necessarily go both ways.

And Sokka is a nonbender with a prodigy sister. Of course he has a hard time living up to his father’s expectations. Of course he needs to prove himself, over and over and over and over again, just like Zuko did.

And Zuko—Zuko ruined it, during the introduction. Sokka said so, Sokka said that Zuko made him look like an idiot.

What did the Chief do to Sokka? Did he … Did he … Zuko quickly searches for bruises but none are visible … which doesn’t mean anything. Father always knew how to inflict injuries so no one would notice—unless, of course, he wanted people to notice.

Does Sokka know that it’s wrong? Does he need someone to tell him that it’s wrong? But, but Zuko wouldn’t have listened to anyone discrediting Father until recently; he wasn’t ready to hear it, and maybe Sokka isn’t ready either.

Sokka is still staring at the candle, possibly in pain but too afraid to admit it, and it’s Zuko’s fault.

“Sokka, I … What did your dad do after, uh, after you introduced me?”

“Um.” Sokka frowns at him. “We had dinner. Why?”

“And after dinner?”

“He, uh … wanted to … talk to Katara.” There’s something unsaid between those words, something unsaid in the way Sokka is too interested in picking dirt from under his fingernails.

“And what else did he do?”

“Um. Nothing.”

Zuko is well familiar with nothing.

“Why do you ask?”

“I …” Zuko doesn’t know what to say. He has never been good with words, how is he supposed to manage a conversation like this? And now the candle flame still linked to his chi is starting to flicker, betraying his nervousness, because Sokka is probably already mad at him for ruining his reputation and he doesn’t know how to breach this topic under such circumstances (or any circumstances, really).

Sokka glares at the flickering candle as if it had personally insulted him. “Would you mind extinguishing that?”

Zuko immediately quenches the flame. So Sokka is angry at him. Of course he’s angry. “I’m sorry. I know what I did was wrong.”

“Huh? What are you talking about?”

“It’s because I snapped at you in front of your father, isn’t it? I—I wasn’t thinking, I should have realized I can’t talk to you like that in front of others, I’m sorry, I’ll make it up to you.”

Sokka sighs. “Zuko, it’s not because of that,” he lies.

“I … I can … Tomorrow, I can kneel before you while they’re watching, and I can properly ask your forgiveness—”

Sokka wrinkles his forehead in an emotion that seems to be something between horror and disgust. “Please don’t do that.”

What was Zuko thinking, suggesting that? It’s not enough, of course it’s not enough. He disrespected Sokka in front of his father and his girlfriend, he ruined it, he made Sokka look a fool, he made Sokka look weak, made him a disappointment in his father’s eyes, and he can’t make it up simply by apologizing. “I understand if you need to publicly punish me in order to reassert your authority, you can do whatever you need to and I won’t fight back no matter how much you hurt me, I promise, I’ll make you look competent, this time—”

“Zuko!” Sokka stares at him as if Zuko had lost his mind. “Stop saying horrible things!”

“But—”

“No but! I don’t care what you said in front of my dad! I was a jerk and I need to apologize, not you, okay? I’m not angry at you.”

It doesn’t make any sense. If Sokka isn’t mad at him, why is he cutting down on Zuko’s privileges? And how could Sokka possibly not be mad at him? How could he possibly not care what his father thinks? He motions at the candle. “But then why …”

“It has nothing to do with you, okay?” Sokka doesn’t look at him. “It’s just …” He gestures without saying anything. “I just, uh … wanted to enjoy the darkness.”

Zuko frowns at the sky, then back at Sokka. “It’s not even dark yet.”

“It’s twilight. That’s almost darkness. Good enough for me.”

Something is wrong here, but Zuko can’t put his finger on what. “You’re lying, aren’t you?”

Sokka sighs, and his voice sounds almost sincere when he adds, “Believe me, Zuko, I’m not angry. This is not … some kind of punishment, or whatever. I just don’t want the candle to be lit.”

Zuko shakes his head. “You can’t not be angry, Sokka, you can’t just forgive me. I made a mistake, a grave mistake, you have to punish me somehow—”

“No,” Sokka says, a dark expression on his face. “I don’t. You have my respect for sitting here calmly, expecting that I’d want to hurt you, but—”

“Don’t.”

Sokka raises his hands placatingly, pain in his gaze. “I just said I won’t hurt you, you don’t have to ask me not to.”

“That’s not what I meant.” How can Sokka not get it? “Don’t give me respect, I haven’t earned it, I’m not perfect enough.” He has never been perfect enough, ever, in his entire life.

“Zuko. You don’t have to be perfect to earn respect.”

“Yes, I do.”

“Why do you think so?”

“Because …”

… Because Father said so.

Something ice-cold settles in the pit of Zuko’s stomach. He’s such a fool. He knows that Father lied about Zuko deserving that scar, knows that the Agni Kai was cruel and wrong, and yet he failed to see the bigger picture. If Father lied about that, he might have also lied about … about everything. How many other things has Zuko believed his entire life just because Father said so?

Is he even Zuko, or is he just who Father wanted him to become? Is there anything inside of him, any part of him, that is just him? Just him, untouched by Father?

Yes, a voice in his mind answers, yes. There’s the boy who spoke up in a war meeting, a boy who cared about his people, who still cares about his people.

No wonder Father tried so hard to burn that boy out of Zuko. But he hasn’t succeeded, has he? That boy turned into the teenager who left his nation, who became a traitor, to help the Avatar. He’s not entirely lost. He can still find his own way in life, it’s not too late.

“It’s not true?” he asks. He doesn’t know what would be worse: Sokka laughing at him and saying that of course Zuko has to be perfect, or Sokka confirming that everything Zuko has ever believed might have been a lie.

“No, it’s not true,” Sokka says. “Nobody is perfect. You earn respect for what you do despite being imperfect. If you were perfect, it would be too easy, and no one would respect you for that.”

It makes sense. Oh Agni, of course it makes sense. Why has Zuko never realized this, why does he have to be so stupid? He should have seen through this. He should have been smarter. He should have known. If only he’d seen through Father’s deceit earlier, he could have avoided so many mistakes, he could be a completely different person now, he could be the person Mom wanted him to be, the person he wanted to be, he could be—

And, Agni, what would Azula be like without Father’s influence?

“Zuko?” Sokka asks, tentatively.

Zuko drops his head into his hands to hide the burning in his eyes, the grief in his heart for the person he could have been. It hurts. It hurts and he doesn’t know what to do with this feeling, doesn’t know how to cope, the implications are just … There are so many lost years, so many wrong decisions, so much guilt and loneliness and heartache that he could have avoided if only he’d been smarter.

“Zuko.”

His head hurts, and he rubs his temples. “I’m so stupid.”

“Um. What makes you think so?”

…

… Father said so.

Is Zuko thinking he’s stupid, blaming himself, also something Father planted inside of him? Can he trust any of his own thoughts and feelings?

Well, he can at least trust Sokka’s. “Uh … I have … a question.” He glances up at Sokka, who is just looking at him silently. “Um … If someone did something bad to you … and you could have totally avoided it if you’d been smarter and seen through it … would you say it’s your fault, or theirs?”

A crease appears on Sokka’s forehead. “Theirs, obviously.”

… Obviously.

“Why?” Sokka asks.

“I think … Uncle would agree.” Which doesn’t exactly answer Sokka’s question, but Zuko isn’t ready to talk about this yet. Still, the guilt doesn’t press down as heavily on his shoulders anymore, because Ozai is to blame. Only Ozai is to blame.

It’s not Zuko’s fault that he believed Father’s lies. It’s still his responsibility to work on the mess that his mind has apparently become, yes, but it’s not his fault, and that’s a big difference.

“Um,” Sokka says. He’s still looking at Zuko, his face full of concern. “Are you okay?”

“Yes,” Zuko replies, and is surprised that it’s true. “Yes, I’m okay.” Finally, finally, he means it.

They sit in silence for another long while, watching the almost-darkness become darker, watching the full moon rise.

Zuko is good with silence. Sokka usually isn’t, so of course he’s the one who eventually breaks it. “Thanks for helping to rescue Dad.”

Zuko turns away from the night sky to look at him. “But you didn’t even let me help!”

“Of course you helped. Without the information you provided, we would never have found him, let alone managed to break into that horrible volcano place.”

“That was nothing,” Zuko says.

“It wasn’t nothing. Seriously, thank you.”

Zuko’s throat feels tight. He can’t remember the last time someone thanked him like this. If anyone has ever thanked him like this. “You’re welcome.”

Sokka gives him a small smile. “We’re all really exhausted right now, but tomorrow I’ll talk to the others about letting you go.”

“What?” He must have heard wrong, because this cannot be true.

“With Toph so sure you’re not lying and your help with Dad and your training with Aang and … and everything. Just, you know … everything. I just think it’d be fair to give you a proper chance.”

A proper chance. Sokka really wants to give him a chance. There’s a lump in Zuko’s throat, and he gulps.

“Zuko?” Sokka asks. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah.” It’s more a croak than a word. Sokka wants to set him free. This is … This is …

… too good to be true. “Your father won’t allow it.”

Why is he still alive?

Sokka waves it off. “He will, don’t worry. I didn’t explain the situation very well today, tomorrow I’ll use some proper arguments and I won’t forget to mention that Toph confirmed you’re on our side, and that you can’t just change sides again and go back home because your dad’s a jerk—”

Zuko can’t help but flinch, and then he can’t help but laugh, and laughing at insults to the Fire Lord is treason, but who cares with all the treason he has already committed? (Father would still care, but Father is a jerk.)

“What?” Sokka asks.

“Oh, nothing.” Zuko tries to stifle the laugh.

“… And anyway,” Sokka continues, “I’m sure Dad will understand my point then.” He seems so sure about that.

But … But even if Sokka is right, the Chief is not the only problem. Zuko sobers quickly at the thought. “And Katara?”

Sokka sighs. “Has she been giving you a hard time while I was gone?”

Zuko’s first impulse is to lie and say no because he’s not allowed to complain about Katara … but would it even be a lie? She hasn’t hurt him, and she hasn’t threatened him, and she hasn’t used waterbending in his vicinity once, and she was uncharacteristically nice to him, except when he told her about the Boiling Rock and Toph had to intervene … but Katara said she wasn’t even going to waterbend despite clearly being angry, and Toph didn’t call her out on the lie, so maybe … it wasn’t a lie? “Not exactly,” he says.

“I know she can be stubborn, but she doesn’t hate you anymore, either. She was really upset when she broke your ribs by accident.”

So Sokka also thinks it was an accident. Maybe he and Toph are right, then.

“But she doesn’t trust me enough to set me free.” She just said as much, earlier that day.

“She will.” Sokka sounds resolute. “I’ll find a way to convince her, Zuko. I’ll get you out of there, no matter what it takes. I promise.”

The lump is back. “Thank you.”

“Least I can do. We should have listened to you from the beginning. And I just can’t stand to see you behind bars anymore, now that I know what it’s like.”

“I …” Zuko begins, feeling he should say something. “I’ve had worse?”

“That’s not reassuring, Zuko.” Sokka scratches at a spot on his arm, even though there’s nothing there as far as Zuko can see. “Once we release you … If you want, I can try to persuade the others to let you properly join the team. If, you know, you still want to be friends.”

Friends. Zuko has never had friends. He was never good enough to earn Father’s permission to have friends, and—and he shouldn’t have needed to earn Father’s permission, but he could only ever watch Azula and Mai and Ty Lee and feel jealous—

“I, uh,” Sokka says, his face falling when Zuko takes too long to reply, “I guess that was a foolish suggestion. Makes sense you don’t want to spend more time with us after … after this. It’s okay, you can just go and … and do whatever you want.”

He could. Maybe he should. Get away from Katara as far as possible … But she hasn’t given him a lot of reasons to do so, recently. It seems like she really has changed. And even if she hasn’t, he only has to get through this one night and then he’ll be free of the threat of bloodbending for another month, and he still has to train Aang, too.

And Sokka wants to be friends.

“I’d like to be part of the team,” he says, and Sokka beams.

“It’ll be nice not to have to hang around on the floor in order to spend time with you.” Sokka yawns and stretches his back, then gets up. “Are you going to be okay in there for one more night?”

One more night. Just one more night. It’s too good to believe. “I’m fine.”

“Okay then. Friends?” Sokka asks, holding his hand out to Zuko through the bars.

Zuko gets to his feet as well. He doesn’t know how this works, people in the Fire Nation never shake hands on anything, so he just offers his hand in return, and lets Sokka clasp his forearm.

Zuko closes his hand around Sokka’s forearm in return. “Friends.”

Chapter Text

Zuko can’t sleep. One more night, he keeps telling himself. Just one more night. Maybe his mind would be able to calm down with some proper meditation, but Sokka doesn’t want the candle to be lit, so Zuko is not going to light it. He’ll have to manage without fire. Just one more night …

But what if Katara—

No, she seemed glad about her father’s return.

But what if she thinks Zuko’s little help with that isn’t enough to warrant giving him a chance?

Sokka said he’ll find a way to convince her.

But what if—

Footsteps. Zuko is quite good at identifying the children’s footsteps by now, but these are none that he recognizes—to heavy, to slow, someone with long strides—

Zuko jumps to his feet, heart thumping heavily. The Chief appears between the bars and the temple wall, staying close to the corner of the cell like Sokka used to in the beginning, as if Zuko might start throwing fire anytime. Half of the Chief’s face is illuminated by the moonlight, the other half melting into the darkness.

“What do you want?” Zuko blurts out.

… And that’s not the proper way to talk to a chief, damn it. He’s not supposed to speak unless spoken to.

“I … I mean …” he stammers, speaking more because he’s an idiot. He clasps his hands behind his back to hide how horribly they’re shaking.

“Hands where I can see them, Your Highness,” the Chief orders.

Zuko immediately unclasps his hands. Now they’re hanging by his sides, and he doesn’t know what to do with them. He fights the urge to move further away, there’s no reason, really, he’s already out of reach, and the Chief is not a bender because Katara is the South Pole’s last waterbender, so there’s no way the Chief can hurt him all the way over here. Still, Zuko stays alert, because who knows how well the Chief can aim when throwing that knife; he might need to duck out of the way.

Why is he still alive?

The Chief must be here to kill him. The Chief is here to kill him, and Zuko doesn’t want to die, not yet, not here, not now. And why doesn’t the man say anything? Why is he just looking at Zuko with a frown on his face and an unhappy twist to his mouth? Zuko waits for the Chief to say something, and waits, and still waits, a drop of sweat collecting between his shoulder blades and running down his back. What is this, some kind of head game?

Eventually, the Chief rubs his temple. “Prince Zuko,” he says, voice quiet enough not to wake up Sokka, who is probably sleeping somewhere nearby as always. “Take off my son’s parka and come here.”

Every fiber in Zuko’s body is screaming at him to get away. “Why?”

“Because I’m telling you to.” The Chief doesn’t sound angry, or frustrated, or displeased. Just resigned.

“But why?” Zuko repeats, realizing too late how insolent that sounds. He’s going to get killed. He’s definitely going to get killed.

Why is he still alive?

“My children tell me they have you under control, and that you obey orders,” the Chief says, making it sound as if Zuko were an eel hound in training. “Are they wrong?”

It’s a trap, isn’t it? If Zuko refuses to obey, he admits that he’s uncontrollable and the children can’t handle him, and the Chief will have even more reason to kill him. And it’s not like the Chief has no chance of getting to him, he can just fetch one of the benders, Haru maybe, or Katara, or both, and then they’ll incapacitate him, and he’ll be on his knees and pathetic, and he’d rather face his end with some dignity left.

And Zuko promised Sokka he’d make it up to him, he can’t make Sokka look bad in front of his father. Not again.

So he takes off the parka, the cold night air biting right through his thin Fire Nation clothes and into his skin. He throws the parka at the bars so the Chief can pull it out; he’ll just have to get used to the cold. If … If the Chief lets him live long enough to get used to anything. 

Zuko doesn’t know much about the fleet of the Southern Water Tribe, but he overheard his old crew whispering about them a few times, about how they attack ships of the Fire Navy in the dead of night, sinking the ships and drowning the crew; about how they keep on finding the most valuable, most vulnerable targets, which means they must be experts at torturing fleet movements out of any soldier unlucky enough to get fished out of the water; about how they never leave survivors, which means they must also be experts at getting rid of said unlucky soldiers once they are no longer of value.

Unlucky people like Zuko. But he has no choice here, he got an order and he’ll have to obey if he doesn’t want to make Sokka look bad.

Zuko breathes deeply, then makes his legs move, makes them carry him towards the bars, towards the looming man, cursing his wish for a larger cell because the distance to the bars is endless. He only allows himself to stop once he’s an arm’s length from the enemy. The Chief is so tall, Zuko has to look up to see into the creepy blue eyes. Sokka’s eyes are nothing like this—they’re also blue, yes, but darker, and warmer, while the Chief … the Chief has Katara’s eyes.

Zuko is going to get killed.

“Turn around,” the Chief orders, still speaking as if to an eel hound, still sounding resigned and unhappy although Zuko has obeyed every order.

Zuko turns, even though his hair is standing on end while he’s exposing his back to the enemy. Maybe the Chief only wants to cuff his hands.

… Or maybe, a small voice in his mind says, he wants to stab you in the back. Maybe that’s why the Chief told him to take off Sokka’s parka.

There’s a hand in his hair yanking him backwards until he hits the bars, and a second one pressed to his mouth to stifle the yelp that was about to escape from his lips, and then the hand on his mouth is gone but before Zuko can even take a proper breath, something cold and sharp touches his throat.

Zuko freezes.

A knife. His own knife. Zuko’s body is too hot and too cold and far too mortal.

“One wrong move,” the Chief says into Zuko’s ear, “and you’re dead.”

Zuko forgets how to breathe. Fool, fool, fool, why does he have to be such a fool? He should have tried to fight, at least, while he still had the chance. Should have called for help, should have called for Sokka; Sokka said he’d be able to reason with his father, Sokka would surely rather Zuko disobey a command than let himself get killed. But no, Zuko had to walk right to his doom, because he didn’t want to die on his knees. He’s too damn prideful, and Uncle has told him so, and Zuko hasn’t listened. Now he’ll never be able to apologize to Uncle.

He’s going to die. He’s going to die and it’s not even at Father’s hand.

“Hands where I can see them,” the Chief repeats.

Zuko slowly raises his hands, careful not to make any sudden movements. Now sneakily setting the Chief’s pants on fire is no longer an option. Not that it ever was.

The Chief sighs, his breath warm in Zuko’s neck. “I don’t want to do this, but I will do whatever is necessary to keep my children safe. I have already failed at protecting my son from harm once, and I won’t fail again. So, Your Highness. Give me one good reason why I should let you live.”

The blade no longer touches Zuko’s throat, otherwise he wouldn’t be able to answer or to swallow without getting cut, because that knife is sharp, Zuko would know … But it’s still there, far too close to his skin. All it’ll take is one twist of the Chief’s hand and that’ll be the end, the only thing left of Zuko will be a puddle of Fire Nation red on the floor.

Father would love this. Oh, how he would love it. Much more than he has ever loved Zuko. Probably more than he has ever loved Azula, even.

“You’re supposed to reply,” the Chief says.

“I—” Zuko stammers. “I—” Think, he has to think, but how can he possibly think with a knife to his throat and a fist pulling out his hair? This was to be his last night in this cell, and it’s going to actually be the last, but not the way Sokka intended. Wait—Sokka. Sokka said something, earlier. “I helped free you from the Boiling Rock. The others wouldn’t have been able to find you without me. Sir,” he adds, unsure how to properly address a chief. Is ‘sir’ appropriate? Is he going to die simply because he infuriates the Chief by using the wrong term?

“And it would have been better if they hadn’t,” the Chief replies. “They should have left me there, it wasn’t worth the risk. Sokka got tortured,” he snarls, the hand in Zuko’s hair tightening, making tears spring to his eyes. “Is that why you told them to go to the Boiling Rock? Hoping they’d get caught?”

“No! No, I swear!”

“The truth, please.”

“I’m telling the truth! I told Sokka not to go, ask anyone, I’m not lying!”

He’s battling the tears, trying to breathe through the pain in his scalp. The hand with the knife is steady. There’s none of the trembling Zuko’s hands did when he had defeated Zhao in the Agni Kai, none of the hesitation. This man has killed before, probably many times, there has to be a long list of Fire Nation soldiers who have fallen at the Chief’s hands, and Zuko’s name is going to be just one more.

“Please,” Zuko begs, weak coward that he is. Father would be appalled. “Sokka can confirm I didn’t want him to go.”

“Then why did you tell him where to find me?”

“He asked. I didn’t realize he’d be planning to go until it was too late.” His scalp hurts as if a thousand needles are being jabbed into it, and he blinks harder and harder but doesn’t manage to keep the tears from falling; they burn hot, wet tracks into his cheeks. If the Chief believes him, then Zuko’s point of having helped with the rescue is moot, but he just wants the pain to stop, he’s caving far too quickly, he’s a wimp, he’s—No. This is Father speaking again, Sokka wouldn’t agree.

The tears have reached his chin, the first one drops from it and—

The Chief flinches, the hand holding the knife twitching dangerously. “What—”

Sokka always insisted Zuko should be honest about not being fine, perhaps that tactic actually helps with Sokka’s father. “Please. Stop hurting me, please.”

It sounds even worse than he thought it would, he shouldn’t have said that, complaining about pain always invites more pain, Father hates it when Zuko begs, Father would—

The man behind him takes a deep breath, the cold air draft sending a shiver down Zuko’s spine. “Sorry, boy.” The hand in Zuko’s hair loosens, just enough not to be painful anymore, not enough to give Zuko’s head any range of movement. For a couple of Zuko’s too-frantic heartbeats, there’s nothing but silence and the Chief’s deep breathing. What is the man playing at with his apology? There’s no way hurting Zuko wasn’t intentional, is there? Surely, the pain was supposed to make him talk? “We’re all a little traumatized,” the Chief says eventually, “you wouldn’t understand. But I’ll give you another chance, Your Highness, because I know it can be difficult to think straight when your life is being threatened. Believe me, I would prefer to have this conversation while we’re both sitting in comfortable chairs, but I’m not in the mood for getting burned should you fail to convince me you’re worth the risk you pose. Sokka said you’re dangerous, and the world would be better off without you. Katara said she’s scared of you, and would prefer you unable to move.” Why is the Chief telling him that? Father never felt the need to explain to people the reasoning why he did what he did. It almost sounds like an excuse, like the Chief needs to convince himself he’s doing the right thing. It doesn’t make sense. “So, Your Highness.” The Chief’s tone is back to being composed. “The question is why should I let you live?”

Think, dammit, think. The Chief misunderstood Sokka, but Zuko can’t just say that, he can’t tell a leader that he’s wrong. “Toph,” he says, “that’s the earthbender girl, she knows—she can feel people’s heart rate, because—she can see with her feet, I mean, she’s blind, but she’s an earthbender—and she can tell when someone’s lying.” His thoughts are stumbling over each other, and he can’t seem to get the details in order. “They—they interrogated me, and she knows I told the truth when I said I’m on the Avatar’s side now.”

“Katara said Toph wasn’t able to detect your sister’s lies.”

“But I’m a terrible liar, Toph said so herself!”

“Or maybe,” the Chief says, “you’re a great actor.”

“I’m not!”

Another warm sigh caressing Zuko’s neck. “Even if you’re telling the truth, you have enough of a history of switching sides not to be trusted.”

“I’m not going to switch sides again, I want to help end this war, I came to help the Avatar defeat the Fire Lord—”

“Isn’t the Fire Lord your father?”

Zuko grits his teeth so hard his jaw hurts. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“You want to help kill your own father?”

Zuko’s already poor grip on his breath control is slipping. There’s nothing he can say or do that will not make him seem like a bad guy, is there? “I don’t want my father to die. But I want him to conquer the world even less. I’m prepared to do whatever is necessary.”

There’s silence. Zuko doesn’t know how the Chief is doing it, but his silence feels judging. “You would kill your own father,” the Chief repeats, and it’s not a question.

As if Father wouldn’t kill Zuko without a second thought, as well. As if Father hadn’t already tried. “Only if necessary, sir. Like I said.” No matter whether the Chief believes that Zuko wants to help Aang defeat Father or not, it’s not a point in Zuko’s favor. Either the Chief thinks Zuko is a liar—or a monster. “I …” Zuko racks his brain for something, anything, that might convince the Chief he’s still useful. “The Avatar needs a firebending teacher. To defeat the Fire Lord, he needs—”

“A firebending teacher. Not you, though. Not someone who would murder a family member to get at the throne. Aang needs a firebending teacher who has proven he can be trusted, and not one with a history of betraying him at the first opportunity he gets.” The blade briefly touches Zuko’s skin again, as if to remind him it’s still there, as if he could possibly forget. “I’m giving you one more chance, Your Highness. Take your time thinking about it and try to come up with something, because I’m not going to enjoy doing this.”

Zuko gulps, tries to breathe, his head feeling too light. He won’t get out of this alive. He’ll mess it up like he’s messed up everything else since the day he was born. He needs Sokka here, Sokka said he could explain things to his dad so that he’ll understand, but Zuko doesn’t doubt that the moment he calls for help his blood will be spilled on the floor. Sokka wouldn’t want him to die like this, would he? Sokka said he wants to give Zuko a chance. Sokka said he wants to be friends.

But he can’t mention that, because the Chief won’t approve of their friendship, he probably won’t even allow it. Saying he’s friends with Sokka would be one more reason for the Chief to kill him.

Zuko only has this one last chance, he needs to be smart about it, he needs to make it work. What would Sokka do, in his place?

“Katara would be angry,” Zuko says.

“Katara?” The Chief’s voice loses its calm. “Katara told me you’re dangerous and not to be trusted. So if you think she would ever set her heart on an enemy, on someone like you, if you think my daughter could ever even like you, you’re mistaken.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Zuko says, the thought of Katara falling in love with him nothing but ridiculous. “The only one of your children who doesn’t hate me is Sokka,” he continues, slowly raising his voice, hoping the Chief won’t notice. “I mean, not that Sokka likes me or anything. Definitely not that way,” he adds, before the Chief can jump to any other ridiculous conclusions, “but Sokka, at least, isn’t horrible to me. Sokka gives me seconds, and doesn’t whack me around the place, and let me have a waterskin, and is generally decent.” His voice is now as loud as he dares to let it get. “Sokka wouldn’t want me to die.” At least, that’s what Zuko is currently betting his life on.

“Then why did you say that Katara would be angry?”

“Because,” Zuko replies, his voice getting quieter of its own accord, “she wants to kill me herself.” Zuko can’t lie worth a damn. He can’t lie, but he’s still not entirely convinced that Katara doesn’t want to kill him, so it’s not technically a lie.

There’s silence, and Zuko waits for the knife to cut and the pain to register, hoping against hope that he hasn’t just signed his death sentence.

“Then why hasn’t she?” the Chief asks.

Zuko doesn’t have an answer to that question, so he’s lucky they’re interrupted.

“Dad?”

“Sokka,” Momo says while jumping up and down on top of Sokka’s head. “Sokka …”

“Momo,” he mumbles. “Shut up.”

“Sokka …”

He shakes his head, trying to dislodge the lemur. “You can’t even speak, Momo, so shut up.”

Wait, if Momo can’t speak, how is he speaking? Has he taken speaking classes? Is there a school somewhere where flying lemurs can learn how to speak? Hopefully, there are no school fees, because they’re almost out of money.

“Sokka …”

He buries his head in the pillow to muffle the voice. Oh, a pillow. Sleeping. Dreaming. Oh, now Dream-Momo is flying away into the dream land, taking his speaking classes and school fees with him.

“Sokka wouldn’t want me to …”

That’s Zuko’s voice, not Momo’s. Sokka groans. Why is this happening again? Why does he always have to sacrifice his sleep for the prince?

… Wait. What would Sokka not want him to do? What in La’s name is Zuko up to?

He’s out of his sleeping bag in an instant, going from sleepy to wide awake with the speed of someone who’s been on the run for months, and sprints to the prison cell on bare feet as quietly as he can manage. When he’s almost there, he hears a second voice, and stops dead in his tracks.

“Then why hasn’t she?”

Sokka blinks, confused, because that voice belongs to—“Dad?” he asks, stepping around the corner of the cell.

He stares at the scene in front of him, his brain trying desperately to make sense of what he’s seeing. The full moon is bright in the sky, illuminating Zuko, his back pressed against the bars of the adjacent side of the cell, so pale he might as well be a ghost, hands raised in surrender, and—and there are tear tracks glistening on his face, and a fist grabbing his hair that makes Sokka’s scalp hurt just from looking at it, and the fist belongs to Dad, who is standing behind Zuko and now turning to Sokka with a resigned sag of his shoulders. Sokka takes a half-step forward and something glints in the moonlight, something small and sharp and decidedly knife-shaped, right at Zuko’s throat.

Sokka’s stomach plummets to the bottom of the abyss. “Dad, what are you doing?”

Dad sighs. “I’m taking care of the firebender.”

“You …” Sokka starts, his throat closing up. “No.” He can feel the fury starting to burn in his insides. “No, Dad. If you want to take care of him, you can bring him food and lend him clothes and play games with him when he can’t sleep, but you cannot hold a knife to his throat.”

There’s a mixture of sadness and resolve on Dad’s face, and Zuko—Zuko’s eyes are wide, fixed on Sokka, and pleading. “Sokka,” he whispers. “Don’t.”

“Let him go,” Sokka says.

Dad sighs again. “I can’t.”

“What do you mean, you can’t?”

“He’s too dangerous.”

“No, he’s not. He’s just Zuko.”

“Exactly,” Dad says. “He’s Prince Zuko of the Fire Nation, a royal firebender, he’s probably been training since the day he was born, he’s probably immensely powerful by now, and he’s going to be the next Fire Lord.” As if any of that was different from ‘just Zuko.’

“I’m not,” Zuko says, his voice quiet but astoundingly steady for someone with a knife to their throat. “I left.”

“Sokka,” Dad continues, ignoring Zuko, because apparently being old and a chief makes him think he has the right to just not listen, “I’m not letting you get hurt again.”

“He’s not going to hurt me! Dad, I understand you’re afraid of firebenders after … you know; I get it, I do, but Zuko is nothing like the guards at the Boiling Rock!”

“You said he used firebending against you.”

Sokka grits his teeth because he has already explained this to Dad, how can Dad use this as an excuse to kill Zuko? “It wasn’t his fault, Dad, and his flames didn’t even reach me! We had a misunderstanding and Zuko lost control, it was an accident! I told you about that!”

Dad tilts his head. “I remember. But what if next time you have a misunderstanding and he loses control, it ends with you getting burned?”

“Zuko would never burn me! Dad, let him go!”

Dad closes his eyes for a moment, a pained expression on his face as if someone was pulling his hair. “Sokka, I didn’t want you to have to see this, but there are things you can’t do if you want to stay alive, and holding a firebender captive is one of those things, no matter how amusing you find it to have a prisoner you can make fun of. Firebenders will kill you if you don’t kill them first. I don’t like it any better than you.”

Sokka very much doubts that. The fiery angry heat in his insides is growing fierier and hotter. “I don’t find it amusing to keep him prisoner. And, what, you want to just kill him without checking with us if we’re fine with that?”

Dad inhales slowly, making Zuko shudder. “Killing is never fun, Sokka. Killing is horrible, and it leaves marks, and I didn’t want you to have to carry that burden yet. But this is a war, and sometimes killing is a necessity, and you just have to do what has to be done.”

“If that’s what is necessary for being a warrior, then I don’t want to be a warrior!” Sokka shouts. And then realizes what he’s said. And is surprised to find that he means it.

There’s sadness in Dad’s eyes. “None of us want to be warriors, Sokka,” he says quietly. “We just want to go home.”

It feels like a slap in the face. For years, being a warrior was everything Sokka wanted, and now his worldview is in shatters. For years, he wanted to be a grown-up, and now he’s growing up too fast, and he just wants his childhood naivety back.

“But home is worth nothing without our families,” Dad continues. “After Kya’s death, I …” He doesn’t finish the sentence, but he doesn’t have to. Sokka remembers. After Mom’s death, Dad wasn’t really himself for months. “Sokka, I need to know that you and Katara are safe. I can’t lose you, too. I wouldn’t be able to bear it.”

“You’re not going to lose us. You’re definitely not going to lose us because of Zuko.”

Dad shakes his head. “You can’t be sure of that.”

“Yes, I can! Let him go! Right now.” Right now, because Sokka can’t stand seeing Zuko afraid for his life one second more.

Zuko’s eyes are panicked now. “Sokka,” he pleads again, “don’t, not like this—”

Dad just interrupts him. “I’m sorry for taking your toy away, but I didn’t think you’d be this upset about it. I thought you just haven’t killed him because you can’t bring yourselves to do it, and not because you don’t want him dead. You said you don’t want him for anything specific.”

Sokka laughs a humorless laugh because oh, the irony of this. Why do Dad and Zuko both think a firebender has to be useful in order to earn the right to live? “I don’t. I want him alive because he’s my friend, not a toy. I was trying to tell you that!”

“Your … friend?” Dad frowns. “But just a few hours ago you talked about him like—”

“I was a jerk! I was a jerk and it had nothing to do with Zuko!” Sokka crosses his arms. “Dad. He’s my friend and I want him to stay alive. Let him go.”

Dad inhales audibly. Then there’s silence. Zuko has closed his eyes, his face going slack, resigned into his fate. Dad leans forward and whispers something into Zuko’s ear, too faint for Sokka to make out the words. He doubts it’s something nice and reassuring.

With a last glint of reflected moonlight the knife is gone, and the hand in Zuko’s hair, too. Zuko staggers away, clutching his throat, eyes blinking confusedly—His knees give in and he drops to the floor, breathing rapid, fitful breaths, and Sokka rushes forward, pressing his head against the gap between the bars, he can’t see properly in this light, can’t see with Zuko still clutching his throat, doesn’t want to see, but he needs to see—

“Zuko,” he rasps, shaking the stone bars that won’t let him enter, won’t even budge a tiny little bit, “are you okay?”

The silence after his question hangs in the air like a suffocating blanket, threatening to smother him.

“… Yeah?” Zuko sounds surprised, and unsure. And he always says he’s fine, even when he’s most definitely not.

“Are you bleeding?” Sokka specifies.

“I—” Zuko finally takes his hands off his throat and looks at them, frowning. “No?”

“You’re not going to die, are you?”

Zuko looks up, meets Sokka’s gaze. “Not right now, no.”

Sokka sags, relief flooding through him. “Okay. Okay then. Okay.” His hands are tingling weirdly, but it’ll pass, everything is fine, Zuko is fine. Sokka gives himself exactly ten heartbeats to breathe, and calm his nerves, and get the panic under control. He’s feeling to many emotions at once, it’s like a pot boiling over, and he has to get some steam off. So he rounds on Dad, because anger is the easiest to vent. “Dad, you can’t just—You can’t.”

“Sokka, stop it,” Zuko cautions.

Dad’s voice stays calm. “Look, son, I understand that you’re angry, and I’m sorry we had a misunderstanding, but it’s war, and there are things you still have to learn, and—”

“No,” Sokka interrupts him, and Zuko makes a choking sound at the word. “There are things you still have to learn. I am not the kid anymore that I was when you left! You were suddenly gone, and you didn’t take me along, and I had to take care of our family, and our tribe, and I had to do it all by myself!” He’s getting loud, but he couldn’t care less. “And then we found Aang and traveled the world and fought the Fire Nation and fought Zuko—” Zuko winces. “—and we’ve been through so much and we’re a good team and you can’t just assume that you know everything better than us, because we’ve made it this far without losing anyone even though the entire Fire Nation is on our heels. We know exactly how dangerous Zuko is, and we’ve decided to trust him enough not to kill him, and I know you’re used to being a chief but we’re your family, not your crew! You can’t just take matters into your own hands without consulting the rest of us when you haven’t even been part of the team for an entire day! Even if Zuko and I were enemies—which we’re not!—you’d have no right to do this!” He’s breathing hard, and remotely aware that Zuko is staring at him in horror.

“Sokka, what are you doing, I’m not worth it!” Zuko is back on his feet, raising one hand like he wants to snatch the words out of the air and stuff them back into Sokka’s mouth.

“Don’t worry, Zuko. I got this. It’s gonna be fine.”

Dad says nothing, he’s just fixing Sokka with a gaze that’s so intense it’s impossible to look away from, and there’s pain in that gaze, an endless ocean of pain, too deep for Sokka to fully comprehend, but also fondness, and love just as deep as the pain, raw and fragile like fresh snow and at the same time as massive and all-encompassing as the night sky over the tundra.

“Sokka,” Dad says, and his voice sounds as if something was wrong with his throat, “come here.”

Sokka takes a step forward, barely registering Zuko’s “Don’t—”, and another step and another, until he’s in hugging range. Dad raises a hand, the one that isn’t still holding the knife, maybe to pat Sokka’s shoulder or maybe to pull him into a hug, Sokka will never know which, because there’s a sound like a dying animal coming from Zuko’s direction, and sudden, frantic movement, and a wall of flame erupts directly in front of Sokka.

“No!” Sokka shouts, jumping forward to shove Dad out of the way, and the world turns bright-hot with flames that catch on Sokka’s forearm wraps, shit shit shit shit shit, and the flames start searing his skin and HIS ARM IS ON FIRE and there’s pain so much pain horrible pain and a scream his brain takes too long to recognize as his own—

Dad is batting at the flames but it doesn’t help why does nothing help he’s still burning and melting and choking on smoke and BURNING and it’s AGONY make it STOP make it STOP MAKE IT STOP MAKE IT STOP MAKE IT STOP—

The fire is gone. The fire is gone as instantaneously as it came, but the agony stays. Sokka stares at the ruin of his arm through the tears blurring his vision, his brain refusing to acknowledge what he’s seeing.

“No … No, Sokka, I didn’t—” Zuko is breathing too loudly, and too rapidly. “I just wanted to—I’m so sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry I’m sorryI’msorry—”

Sokka wrenches his gaze away from his arm, unable to hold back the whimper building up in his throat, looks up at Zuko, and takes an involuntary step away from the danger. Zuko whines, stumbles forward, and then stops abruptly when Dad steps between them, knife pointing at Zuko’s head.

“If you so much as move a finger,” Dad warns, “it will be the last thing you ever do.”

Zuko apparently doesn’t move a finger, because he’s still alive enough to talk. “Katara,” he says, “go to Katara, she can heal him, I’m so sorry, I—I didn’t—”

Away, Sokka needs to get away, the pain is excruciating and he’s dizzy and it seems impossible just to put one foot in front of the other and he’s probably about to pass out but he can’t, he needs to get to safety first. Dad is by his side, steadying him, helping him walk, shielding him from the firebender, and then they’ve rounded the corner of the cell and the knife clatters to the ground and Dad scoops Sokka up into his arms like a baby, and Sokka buries his face in Dad’s chest to muffle more whimpers while Dad runs and runs until Katara’s voice is there, sounding out of breath—

“Dad? Sokka!”

It’s a blessing when the darkness clouds everything.

Chapter Text

Zuko sinks to the floor, burying his face in his hands. The smell of burning flesh still lingers in the air, sweet and putrid, punching nausea into his lungs.

The look on Sokka’s face when—

And the SCREAM—

Zuko has to bite down on his tongue to keep himself from gagging.

What has he done?

They won’t believe it was an accident, and even if Toph tells them it’s the truth they won’t care, Father never cared, and Katara never cared, and she won’t start caring now.

And Zuko knows the sort of pain Sokka is in, knows it far too well. He knows better than to expect mercy. It’s his fault, after all. It’s his fault that Sokka woke up in the first place, so it’s his fault that Sokka disrespected his father, and his fault that the Chief wanted to punish Sokka, and his fault that he panicked and didn’t get the fire back under control immediately when Sokka jumped right into it instead of using the chance to run away. Everything is his fault. Father might be to blame for a lot of things, but this … this is entirely Zuko’s own fault.

And now Sokka will hate him.

Sokka, who didn’t want the candle to be lit after having been to the Boiling Rock.

Sokka, who said he now knows the difference between a mean and a scary prison guard.

Sokka, who the Chief said got tortured.

All of the pieces suddenly fall into place, and a horrible realization claws at Zuko’s insides. How do Fire Nation guards torture prisoners? Especially prisoners who aren’t firebenders and are therefore afraid of fire?

They must have burned Sokka. They burned him, and that haunted look on his face suddenly makes a lot of sense. And that Sokka came to him to talk about it instead of going to his sister or his friends—his other friends—his real friends—because Zuko’s face screams to the world that he’s been through something similar. And now Zuko has burned him, right after that trauma. No matter what Zuko can say or do now, Sokka will hate him. Sokka will hate him forever.

And Zuko deserves it, because everything is his fault.

Fate is funny, isn’t it? He came here to help, and look where that got him, and where it got the ones he wanted to help. Yes, Father would find that funny. Azula, too. He can almost hear her chuckle.

You have always been a failure, Zuzu, but this? This is just pathetic.

He’s pathetic, they don’t care about accidents, it’s a full moon night, and they’re going to kill him. He has added fuel to the fire again, he has burned all his bridges, and they’re never going to trust him now.

He’s going to die. There’s no doubt about that. They’re going to kill him, and if he wants to survive, he has to get away. Now.

The stone bars surrounding his cell look sturdy, but he has never tried to break through them, has he? No, he was always too scared of Katara’s wrath should his escape attempt fail. But he has nothing to lose now, does he? If he stays, they’ll kill him. If he tries to escape and fails, they’ll kill him. If he tries to escape and succeeds, he has at least a chance of surviving.

So he staggers to his feet, shoving the nausea down as far as he can, closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, calling on his inner fire. It’s not burning as hot and bright as during the day, but it’s fueled by sheer desperation, by his desire to live, by his guilt, by his fury at himself, fury at what he did, and it has to be enough, failure is not an option here or he’ll die—

He snaps his eyes open, selects one of the stone bars at random, and thrusts his fist forward at the same time he releases his breath. Fire flares up, hot and bright and beautiful and deadly, bigger and stronger than any fire he has been allowed to see in the past few weeks, it’s sizzling and crackling and there’s an echo of Sokka’s scream—

The fire dies. But there’s no one there, no one screaming, it’s just in his mind, shit, his mind is so messed-up. It’s just a stone column, dammit, it’s not a human. Stone can’t feel heat, stone can’t feel pain, stone can’t scream, he has to get his act together. Fire in itself isn’t bad, it took him months to learn this lesson after the Agni Kai, he doesn’t have the time to re-learn it again.

It’s just stone. Just stone.

Zuko double-checks that no one is standing there, then triple-checks, then quadruple-checks. Scowls. Focuses all his anger about what a weak coward he is into his chi, and unleashes a fire even hotter than the previous one.

Just stone. It’s just stone.

Zuko makes the flames hotter, ever hotter, and then follows them up with a kick that—

Ow.

A kick that hurts, why does stone have to be so hard, ow, ow, ow, his foot. He needs his foot to escape, he only has two and he needs them both.

But he needs the bars gone more than he needs his foot intact, and he needs the bars gone soon; Toph’s abilities are creepy, she might feel his attack on the stone no matter where she is in the temple, time is running out and he has to escape.

He forces himself to stand back up, his foot throbbing but not spiking with pain when he puts pressure on it—so it’s not broken, probably—hopefully—and he takes another deep breath, using the pain to fuel his inner fire. A series of strong fire blasts, this time. The first few explode against the stone but don’t cause any damage, but the fifth one results in an audible crack, and the sixth sends some splinters flying.

It’s working, it’s actually working. Zuko pauses to catch his breath, to channel more of his chi; with the next series of fire blasts he has to weaken the stone enough to make it brittle, and then he’ll follow that with another kick, and this time, he’ll kick through it, he knows he will, he cannot fail.

He plants his feet firmly on the ground, Uncle’s voice in his mind, a strong root will make or break your success, nephew. He closes his eyes, breathes in, breathes out, breathes in again. Fire comes from the breath. He feels the chi flow through his veins, into his hands, curls them into fists, ready to strike, and—

RUMBLE.

Zuko opens his eyes.

No.

Oh, no.

Too slow. He’s always too slow. Never fast enough, good enough, perfect enough.

And now his imperfection will be his death, because judging by the darkness, the two sides of his cell that were made up of bars are now reinforced with solid, impenetrable walls of stone. A single sliver of moonlight still shines through a tiny gap near the ceiling of his cell, just big enough to let in some air. The threat is clear: keep on fighting, and we’ll suffocate you. How long will the air in his cell last, if Toph closes that gap? How long until he dies like a fire that has consumed all of the air it had?

More rumbling.

Zuko backs away, because maybe Toph will just smash him with a boulder and be done with it—

But then the rumbling stops, and his body is still intact. He waits, only the heartbeat in his ears breaking the silence, his palms sweaty, and keeps on waiting for an attack that doesn’t come. Eventually, he edges closer to where to noise was, arms stretched out in front of him—he can’t see anything in this darkness, but he doesn’t dare to light another flame—until his fingers brush stone. Round stone. Perfect, unblemished stone, where cracks and missing splinters should be. Toph has repaired the column he spent so much energy on trying to destroy, although it doesn’t even make any difference, with the new walls right behind the bars. Just to show off how easily she can keep him in check.

He’s trapped. He has lost. He’s as good as dead.

Never give up without a fight.

But he has fought, and he has lost. What good is continuing a fight when he has no more chance of winning? When the knife with said inscription is literally in the hands of his enemies?

No good at all. He’s out of options. There’s only one thing left to do, one thing Zuko has never done before: give up.

Give up, and accept that he’s going to die.

Perhaps death is even a blessing, at this point. Of all the unforgivable things he’s done in his life, burning his friend is the most unforgivable. If he dies, at least he doesn’t have to live with the guilt.

Yes, perhaps it’s better that way. Katara was right, and the Chief, too. Zuko is dangerous. He’s too dangerous to be held prisoner. Too dangerous to be kept alive. He brings nothing but pain and destruction. He was lucky to be born, but the world will be luckier without him.

One more accident, and you will find out just how long you can hold your breath underwater before there’s no air left.

He hopes they’ll burn his body, afterwards. Will they do that much for him? Or will they leave it here to rot, or push it down into the canyon, or entomb it in the rocks, or drag it to the sea to drown it in the deepest waters where Agni’s rays will never find him? Sokka knows he wouldn’t want that, but Sokka—Sokka hates him now.

Sokka has every right to do with Zuko’s body whatever he wants. Zuko pulls at his hair, rakes his fingernails over his face. The pain helps him to focus. He’s going to die, yes. That’s okay, though. It has been a long time coming. He should have died when Grandfather ordered his death, should have died in that Agni Kai, should have died from the infected wound, should have died in storms on the sea or from the cold at the poles, should have died in a battle like someone with honor, should have picked the right side earlier and died fighting Father or Azula. It’s okay that he’s going to die now. At least that way, he can’t make any more mistakes, and can’t hurt anyone else. He’ll have to make sure he won’t hurt anyone else, before it’s over. Make sure he won’t lash out in fear or pain.

He closes his eyes so he won’t have to see the darkness anymore, and concentrates on breathing. His inner fire is wild, like a scared animal. He reaches out to it, connects it to his inhale, his exhale, and another inhale, another exhale. His breaths are counted, there are not many left, and that’s okay.

He inhales, and exhales.

Inhales, and exhales.

Inhales. And exhales.

Inhales.

And exhales.

He doesn’t know how long he’s been standing there, meditating, by the time he hears footsteps. They’re not silent, trying to sneak up on him. They’re footsteps of anger, of righteousness, footsteps that don’t need to hide.

With another rumble, the additional walls disappear into the ground.

Behind the stone bars, his coming death looms: Katara, with a water whip already attached to her arm, ready to strike; Toph, a more intimidating scowl on her face than he has ever seen before; the Chief, knife in hand; and Sokka’s girlfriend, who is wielding … dual dao. Zuko’s dual dao.

He inhales, and exhales. It’s okay. It’s not like he’ll have any use for the swords when he’s dead.

Sokka isn’t there. But he hasn’t died, has he? Sometimes … Sometimes burn victims go into shock, and they die from that, but … Katara would have prevented that, surely. Maybe he’s sleeping or … unconscious, or something. Maybe he’s waiting out of sight until the fighters have incapacitated Zuko.

Or maybe he hates Zuko so much he never even wants to see him again.

Dawn is pushing back the darkness, but the full moon is still above the horizon. He probably won’t live long enough to see the sun again.

They’re watching him. They’re just watching, and Katara still hasn’t started bloodbending him. Doesn’t she know how dangerous he is? How easily he could snap and burn them all? How big of a risk they’re taking by not seizing control of him immediately?

Perhaps Katara needs time to prepare for bloodbending? Perhaps she expects him to start fighting and wants to focus on defending her father and her friends first?

Zuko sinks to his knees, head bowed. “I will accept any punishment.” He harmed his only friend. He deserves to die on his knees.

Before the calm from the mediation can evaporate, before he can change his mind about not fighting back, he assumes the position he was in for his first interrogation, one arm across his face and the other hand on the ground.

Thankfully, they’re not complete idiots, and someone stomps a foot, causing rock to rise and secure Zuko in place. Despite having expected it, he has to suppress the urge to start struggling. It’s going to be okay. At least now he can’t hurt anyone anymore. The Chief can slit Zuko’s throat like he wanted to, or Katara can drown him like she wanted to, or Sokka can run him through with his sword like he surely wants to, and Zuko is not going to be a danger to either of them.

“He’s secured!” Toph calls, apparently having come to the same conclusion.

Zuko doesn’t raise his gaze, but more feet join the group in front of the bars. Ten more feet. That’s … that’s everyone. Everyone, including Sokka. (Sokka, who is alive alive alive.) Apparently, his execution is going to be a very public affair. Are they even going to let The Duke watch? Are they going to let The Duke participate?

Still, it’s better than anything Father would come up with. If he got captured by the Fire Nation, there would be at least as many spectators at Zuko’s execution as there were at the Agni Kai, and Father would make sure it wouldn’t be over within a few minutes, Father would find ways to make Zuko’s agony last hours, drinking the world’s finest wines and dining on roasted hippo-ox while enjoying the spectacle. Are Sokka and Katara and the Chief going to make it quick?

“Zuko,” Toph says, and he can’t keep himself from flinching. She never calls him by his real name. “Explain yourself.”

He looks up, surprised. “I … I didn’t think you’d want to hear—”

Katara lets the water flow back into her waterskin and crosses her arms. “You’d better start explaining yourself before we change our minds.”

They actually let him explain. They want him to explain. Perhaps they haven’t yet decided exactly how painful they need his death to be. Even the Chief and Sokka’s girlfriend sheathe their weapons—for now.

“I … yes.” Zuko takes a deep breath, braces himself for the pain he’ll feel, and looks directly into Sokka’s eyes. The hatred he expected isn’t there. There’s a frown on Sokka’s forehead, yes, and a grim twist to his mouth. None of the cold fire of hatred, though. His arm is covered in bandages, held protectively in a sling in front of his body, and his tunic is singed. The smell of charred flesh makes Zuko feel nauseated again. His throat is dry, and he gulps. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. It was a mistake, and stupid, and I am sorry.”

“That’s not an explanation,” Katara says. Her eyes are narrowed. The Chief’s face betrays nothing, and Sokka …

Zuko can’t bear to look at Sokka and not see the hatred he deserves. The only thing on his mind is the way Sokka stared at him after—after, the fear that was so palpable it was like a slap. Fear of him. Not a trace of the calm from his meditation is left. Zuko looks at the floor, so he doesn’t have to see Sokka anymore. “It’s, it’s just … Sokka was so … And I told him not to, but he didn’t listen … And then … And, and he was still holding the knife, and he’d said come here, like he’d told me to before, so I knew what kinds of things he does after saying that, and Sokka didn’t deserve it, it was all my fault—And. And Sokka was just going to take it, but I couldn’t—I couldn’t just watch—So I reacted, I didn’t think it through, otherwise I wouldn’t have risked hurting Sokka, but I needed to do something … And then I panicked and I failed to extinguish it … I’m too bad a bender, it wasn’t on purpose.”

There’s silence following his explanation. Zuko doesn’t dare to look at anyone.

“Everything he just said was the truth,” Toph finally says, “but I have no idea what it actually is that he said.”

“Is he always this bad at making excuses?” the Chief asks.

“Usually.” It’s the first word out of Sokka’s mouth, and makes Zuko hold his breath. “Man, that was the worst explanation in the history of humankind. I was there for most of what happened, and I didn’t understand even half of what you just said. How about you start with the fact that Dad tried to kill you?”

“He what?” Katara says. Zuko risks a glance. She looks angry—of course she wants to be the one to kill him. She’ll have to discuss that with the Chief though, because …

If you harm my children, I will hunt you to the end of the world, and I will make you suffer each and every pain you put them through, and then I will kill you.

Zuko’s gaze wanders to the Chief at the memory of a whisper in his ear, half-forgotten, drowned in the panic he was feeling in that moment. Cold dread claws at his insides as he realizes what the whisper means. The Chief is going to burn him. The Chief is going to burn his arm, or maybe even both, for good measure. He doesn’t have firebending, of course, but he can just take glowing embers from a fire, or a flickering torch, and Zuko will … How will they make sure he doesn’t extinguish the fire, doesn’t dissipate the heat before it can hurt him? Maybe if Katara takes control of his body with bloodbending, he won’t be able to access his own bending anymore.

The Chief returns his gaze, and Zuko looks away quickly, landing on the Avatar. Aang also seems upset, though probably for different reasons than Katara. But Aang is not in charge here.

“Dad,” Katara says, “is that true?”

The Chief runs a hand down his face. “It seems like Sokka and I had a bit of a misunderstanding, and I came to the conclusion that the prince is too dangerous to let him live. You can’t imprison a firebender without risk to yourselves, it’s just not possible. I didn’t ask you because I didn’t want you to share the burden. Don’t worry, Sokka has lectured me about this enough already.”

Lectured. Lectured. He just admits this in front of the entire group, and doesn’t even say it with the venom Father would have radiated.

Sokka clears his throat. “So, yeah. I woke up because I heard Zuko mention my name, and it didn’t sound like his usual nightmares, so I went to check it out, and Dad was holding a knife to Zuko’s throat. So I told him he can’t do that, and that it’s not his decision, and he let go of Zuko. And then …” Sokka looks at him expectantly. Zuko has no idea what he is supposed to say, so he keeps quiet. “… Then Zuko suddenly threw fire and I pushed Dad out of the way and my arm was burning,” Sokka finishes.

“But you’d just saved him,” Aang says. “Zuko, why would you …?”

“I said I didn’t want to hurt Sokka!”

The Chief steps forward. “Then what were you trying to achieve?”

“I …” His response withers at the Chief’s gaze, the words dying in his throat before they can leave his mouth. He can’t explain himself, and even if he could, it wouldn’t change a thing. The fact remains that he willingly firebent, and that he did it to undermine the Chief.

Sokka steps in again. “Don’t you get it, Dad?” The others all stare at him. “He was trying to protect me!”

The Chief frowns. “Protect you from what?”

“From you, Dad. From you!”

There’s a stunned silence. Zuko feels like a pressure has been lifted, like he can finally breathe again. Sokka understands. Sokka understands why Zuko threw flames to keep the Chief off him. Sokka understands that Zuko never wanted to attack him. It doesn’t matter anymore that Katara and the Chief are going to kill him, because Sokka knows the truth. Sokka doesn’t hate him.

Then of course, if anyone would understand, it’s Sokka. He’s the one who heard Zuko have his nightmares, after all.

“Is that true?” Katara asks, turning to Zuko.

“I … Yes.”

“Truth,” confirms Toph.

The Chief turns to Zuko as well, visibly taken aback, and Zuko has to keep himself from shrinking away from that gaze. Agni, those pale blue eyes. Is this going to be the last thing he sees before he dies? “Why would you think you needed to protect my son from me?”

“He—He was—” Zuko glances at Sokka. He doesn’t want to make this any worse, but he does have to reply. “He was brash, and. And disrespectful.” There. Nothing the Chief doesn’t already know.

“And what did you think I was going to do?” the Chief asks.

“I … I don’t know. Discipline him?”

“Prince Zuko, when I discipline my children, I sit them down and talk to them, or I make them apologize to whoever they wronged, or I tell them to help clean up whatever mess they made. Is that something you need to protect them from?”

Zuko gulps. “N—No.”

“Then what did you think I was going to do?”

“I thought—I thought you’d—You were going to hurt him.”

The Chief sighs as if it’s the answer he feared he’d get, then shakes his head as if he can’t believe it’s the answer he actually got. No one in their right mind would ever try to stop a father from disciplining his son; even Uncle never did. Clearly, Zuko is not in his right mind. “I would never hurt my children,” the Chief says. “I never have, and I never will.”

… What? He must be lying. There’s no way this is true, is there?

Zuko looks up at Sokka, hopes Sokka will understand the question he’s trying to convey with his eyes, without him actually having to ask. Sokka nods, once.

This is … This is just … Zuko suppresses a groan. Not even his death is going to be useful, because nothing would have happened, if he hadn’t thrown fire. No one would have gotten hurt. Can’t he do anything right?

“I don’t know where you got this idea from,” the Chief continues, “but whatever you heard about our savage culture is severe misinformation.”

“It’s not,” Zuko says, “I mean it’s not because you’re savages.” He pauses, reconsiders his words. “I mean—You’re not savages. I just thought so because …” He trails off.

“Because?” the Chief prompts.

Zuko doesn’t want to answer, but with the Chief present, this is clearly a real interrogation, and Zuko would rather his death be quick than endure whatever torture methods the Southern Water Tribe usually uses to make prisoners talk.

“Because Father would have,” Zuko mumbles.

“What does the Fire Lord hurting Sokka have to do with anything?”

“No, that’s … that’s not what I meant.” He exhales, bracing himself. “Father would have hurt me, if I’d talked to him like that.”

(“—I’m begging you, please, Father, I only had the Fire Nation’s best interest at heart—”)

Everyone looks surprised, apart from Sokka. “What,” Sokka says, “did you really think the Fire Lord could ever win the Dad of the Year Award?”

“But Zuko’s a prince,” Haru says.

“Yes,” Sokka replies, “which means his dad is the Fire Lord. Fire Lord Ozai. The ultimate Bad Guy.”

“Prince Zuko,” the Chief says, “are you saying your own father harmed you?”

Zuko doesn’t meet anyone’s gaze. “… Yes.” Of course, they have to humiliate him before they get around to killing him. He probably deserves that, too.

“What for?”

At least that’s an easy question. Zuko has heard Father say this so often, he could recite it in his sleep. “Disrespect. Cowardice. Weakness. Bringing shame to the family. Dishonoring the crown.”

But the Chief shakes his head. “Those are empty phrases. I’m asking what he harmed you for.”

The shame is slithering up his neck, making his cheeks warm, his ears glow. The shame burns him from the inside, but not the way his inner fire feels, strong and comforting. Not even like his outer fire feels, fierce and powerful. No, shame always burns like Azula’s fire: too hot, outside of his control, and painful if he lets it get close.

They’ll think he’s a fool. They’ll think he was dumb and stupid to try to please Father, despite everything Father had done. They won’t understand that Zuko had no way of knowing that Father was lying when he claimed Zuko deserved it. The words are heavy like boulders on his tongue, they’re so hard to say. “For … For failing firebending tests. For talking back. For asking the wrong questions. For running away and hiding when he was angry at me. For complaining about pain. For letting the family physician treat injuries I got as punishments.” Sokka and Katara exchange glances at that. Zuko forces himself to continue anyway. “For attending court meetings in wet clothes because Azula pushed me into the pond. For sneaking into the aviary to pet the messenger hawks. For … For speaking out of turn …” That’s it, he can’t say another word. The shame is burning so brightly he wishes Toph would sink him right into the ground.

The silence is absolute.

“That’s …” Aang says. “That’s horrible.”

Haru gulps so heavily it’s audible in the silence. “The scars. On your torso, all the scars …”

The Chief frowns, looks from Zuko to his own right hand as if to compare the shape and size, frowns more. Looks at his own belly. Back at Zuko again. Sokka has been observing his father’s movements, and now they’re both looking at Zuko … No, not at him. At the left side of his face. At his scar. The scar, the only one that matters.

The shame, impossibly, burns even hotter.

(“—No, please, I will never disappoint you again, Father—I meant you no disrespect, I am your loyal son, please—”)

Sokka turns so pale, his hand pressed to his mouth, that he might be trying not to throw up.

“I see,” the Chief says, and Zuko is all too aware of what he is seeing. “Is that why you want to kill your father?”

“Didn’t you listen to anything I said?” Zuko snaps back, the shame making him lash out with words, if nothing else. He doesn’t doubt the Chief will make him regret his words later, but he can’t stop himself. “I don’t want to kill him, even though Father wants to kill me. He already tried, when I told him I’m leaving. He shot lightning at me. He’s not fit to run a family, let alone a nation. I just want him to be stopped.”

The Chief massages his temples. “And what did you think we were going to do with you after you’d burned me?”

The fear hits Zuko with force, its claws piercing his lungs, making it hard to breathe. “I didn’t really think, in that moment,” he says. “And I wasn’t trying to burn you, just to push you and Sokka apart to give him a chance to run. But … But you’ve made it quite clear.” He looks at Katara, because it’s easier to face the drowning than the burning. “I’m not allowed to bend. One accident, one step in the wrong direction … I deliberately firebent, and—and I didn’t do it to burn Sokka, but … I did try to keep Chief Hakoda from doing whatever he wanted to do. You’re going to kill me, aren’t you?” He wishes his voice wouldn’t sound so pathetic while saying that.

The Chief taps his fingers against his arm, speaking before Katara can. “So you’re claiming that you tried to defend Sokka even though you’re convinced we would kill you for that?”

“… Yes.” He still can’t get rid of the trembling in his voice. “Like I said, I will accept your punishment.” It’s not like he has any choice not to, immobilized like he is. “I, I just wanted to ask you to … if you ever see my uncle again, please tell him I am sorry.” He’s not in a position to make any requests, but perhaps they’ll honor his last wish anyway.

“Toph, is everything he said the truth?” the Chief asks.

“Yep.”

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely. He’s a shitty liar when he tries.”

“Couldn’t he fake that?”

“The shitty lying?” Toph laughs. “Sparky? No. I’ve never met anyone who can fake that, and he definitely can’t.”

“I see,” the Chief repeats. “I’ve messed this up so badly, haven’t I?” Messed up what, Zuko’s execution? Because he can’t possibly mean—

“Well, yes,” Sokka says, and Zuko wants to tell him to shut up, not to anger his father more—except the Chief doesn’t seem to be angry with Sokka at all. And allegedly wouldn’t hurt Sokka even if he was angry.

The Chief sighs. And turns back to Zuko. This is it. Now comes his death sentence, because good intentions never matter to fathers. “Prince Zuko, thank you for trying to protect my son. I shouldn’t have threatened your life, and I’m sorry for adding to your trauma. I’ve probably ruined any trust you might have had in me as an adult man and a father, but for what it’s worth, you have my word that I’ll never lay a finger on you again—nor on anyone else in this group.” No way. This can’t be real. There’s a buzzing in Zuko’s ears, and his body feels too far away. “Sokka …” the Chief continues, and pats Sokka on the shoulder, the way he was probably going to before. “You were right, and I was wrong. You’re all grown up, and I didn’t want to see that because it pains me that I’ve missed seeing you turn into a man. It’s not my place anymore to take decisions out of your hands. You’re a good person, and I’m proud of you, son. Katara …” The Chief raises an eyebrow at her. “Perhaps reconsider killing him? All of you … I trust you to handle this.” With that, he walks off, leaving the children to deal with Zuko.

“… What,” Zuko says, because the world has stopped making sense.

Sokka grins at him. “He’s a great dad, isn’t he? Sooo …” he continues, turning to the rest of the group. “Does anyone object to us not killing Zuko?”

Zuko looks from one person to the next, his throat impossibly dry, but no one raises their hand, and no one raises their voice. Not even Haru, or Sokka’s maybe-girlfriend. Not even Katara.

Sokka nods. “Thought so. I told you we should talk to him before jumping to conclusions. Toph—”

“Already at it.” She taps her foot and Zuko can move.

He drops his arm, but doesn’t stand up. “But …” he stammers, staring up at Sokka. “But your arm …”

Sokka waves it off. “It’ll be fine. I’m lucky it happened during a full moon, it boosted the waterbending healing. It’ll take some time and some more healing sessions, but Katara said my arm’s not worse now than Toph’s feet were, and they turned out fine, apart from still being Toph’s gross feet.”

“Hey!” Toph complains, and a pebble falls down from the temple ceiling and hits Sokka in the head.

“Ow.” He rubs his scalp. “Zuko, you can stand up now.”

Zuko shakes his head. “I hurt you. Don’t you think I deserve to die on my knees?”

“Tui and La!” Sokka exclaims, his face full of dismay. “Would you please stop saying horrible stuff like that!” He comes closer, as if he wasn’t afraid of Zuko anymore, but that can’t be. “It was an accident, you were trying to help me, and you don’t deserve to die. You need to get your stupid dad’s voice out of our head.”

How come Sokka is able to identify Ozai speaking before Zuko can? Because that is Ozai speaking, isn’t it? If Sokka thinks it’s horrible for Zuko to think he deserves death, then it probably is horrible. Father always lied about what kinds of things Zuko deserves. “I don’t know how.”

“Well, I don’t know either,” Sokka admits, “but we’ll figure it out. I’m the brains guy, remember? We’ll work on it. You have me and the rest of the team now, you don’t have to do this alone.” He comes even closer, not the least bit careful. “We’ll fix this together.”

“But … But they won’t want me on the team—”

“Nonsense,” Sokka says. “Let’s vote on it: who is in favor of letting Zuko join Team Avatar?”

Aang literally bounces on his feet. “Me!”

“And me!” The Duke shouts.

“Me too,” Teo says.

Toph grins her widest grin, the one that makes her look like a rabid saber-tooth moose lion. “About time too!”

Zuko’s head is spinning, everything is going so fast. The world still hasn’t resumed making sense.

“Haru?” Sokka asks.

Haru shrugs. “I don’t mind.”

“Okay then,” Sokka says. “Suki?”

“It’s not my decision. You know him better, and I trust your judgment.” There’s a vicious grin on her face. “But I am looking forward to a rematch. And this time, I’m going to kick your ass, Zuko.”

Sokka looks at his sister. “Katara?”

Zuko meets her gaze, sees her frown, and feels the bubbling excitement in his chest die like the turtle-duck Azula burned when she was five. Just because Katara doesn’t want to kill him anymore doesn’t mean she trusts him, either. She’ll still want him imprisoned, or gone. Far, far gone. She has been too conspicuously silent ever since he said he was trying to protect Sokka.

“I was wrong, you know?” she says. “I was wrong about you. I’m sorry it took me so long to realize that. I was selfish, and afraid. I can only hope you’ll let me make it up to you.”

Toph moves her foot, and the walls and the bars of Zuko’s cell disappear into the ground, and he’s free. Zuko still doesn’t stand up, can’t stand up, standing up would equal accepting their insane offer and he can’t.

“But …” Zuko tries again. “Sokka, I thought you’d be scared of me now. I thought you were scared when … after …”

Sokka shrugs. “I was in pain and not thinking clearly. I know you’d never willingly burn me. You can stand up now.”

“But you can’t just forgive me.”

“I can do whatever I want.”

“But—”

“You said it was an accident.”

“But that doesn’t matter—”

“Of course it does. I’m not going to be mad at you for an accident, and you shouldn’t, either.”

“How can I not be mad at myself?”

Sokka shrugs, looks at Aang. “A little help from the monk?”

Aang’s face is serious. “Forgiving others can be hard. But forgiving yourself? That’s a lot harder.” The seriousness flies away like smoke on the wind, leaving a beaming smile. “But you know what? Luckily, you have us! You can teach me firebending and I can teach you how to forgive yourself! I’m an expert, I learned it from Guru Pathik!”

Agni chooses that moment to rise, bathing the opposite side of the canyon in glorious golden light. Zuko has no choice but to accept that even Agni blesses what Sokka and Aang are suggesting. The Fire Lord is supposed to be Agni’s voice, and Father always said forgiveness is for wimps and cowards and peasants, not for royalty. But Father was lying. So. So Zuko may at least try. And as crazy as it sounds—Aang is right. He’s not in this alone anymore. He has Sokka now, and Aang, and Toph, and Teo, and The Duke. He might not be able to forgive himself right now, but maybe, just maybe, he’ll learn it one day. And that’s good enough for now.

“Okay,” he says.

Sokka goes up to him and offers his outstretched hand. “Friends?”

This time, Zuko knows how to complete the handshake. “Friends.”

The biggest smile spreads on Sokka’s face, and he pulls Zuko to his feet and straight into a one-armed hug. “Welcome to the team, buddy.”

Chapter Text

Suki and the Chief are both fighting like their lives depend on it. Zuko has never seen two non-benders looking so deadly despite fighting without weapons.

… And then the Chief’s back hits the floor, Suki standing over him with her fist ready to punch him in the face, and time seems to stand still. Zuko holds his breath. His mind screams at him to jump up and step between them, to do something, anything—

Sokka pokes Zuko in the arm and murmurs, “It’s fine.”

Zuko exhales, reminding himself that Chief Hakoda is not Ozai, and forces his fists to unclench. “I know.” The lemur in his arms chirps, demanding that Zuko continue petting him. Zuko does, the soft fur beneath his fingers helping him to calm down, and Momo snuggles even closer.

It’s been three days since he regained his freedom, and so far, the Chief has been true to his word, and hasn’t hurt anyone. Not even when Zuko was so nervous about helping Katara with the cooking that he burned the rice; not when Toph made snide remarks about the Chief’s bad judgment during that night; not when Sokka and Zuko came back from a hunting trip empty-handed because they spent most of the time talking instead of actually hunting; not when Katara became so furious during a duel with Toph that she splashed everyone—including her father—and not when the Chief insisted on giving back Zuko’s knife and Zuko refused (because what if they get attacked, the Chief is not a bender, he needs a weapon). And apparently not even when Suki defeats him while sparring, in front of everyone.

“Well fought, Suki,” the Chief says, panting. Seeing him react like that always makes Zuko aware of just how wrong Father’s reactions were.

Suki looks smug. “Told you I’m not some weak little girl.” She extends a hand, and the Chief glances at Zuko before taking it and letting Suki help him back to his feet.

“Indeed you’re not,” he says, stepping away and dropping his hands to his sides. He always does that in situations that have Zuko holding his breath. “I’m lucky we never actually fought each other in the Boiling Rock when I was being an idiot.”

“Um,” Sokka says. “What did I miss?”

Suki and the Chief exchange glances. “Nothing,” they both say in unison.

They’re very obviously lying, and they’re not even trying to hide it. Which is weird. Everything about Chief Hakoda’s behavior is weird.

It’s been three days, and the Chief hasn’t tried to corner Zuko even once. Admittedly, Zuko has been doing his best to make it hard for the Chief, has made sure to stay somewhere near his friends whenever possible. But then yesterday came, and Zuko was playing hide and seek with The Duke and Teo and was looking for a hiding spot when he ran into the Chief. No one was nearby, and it happened at a strategically bad place too, no good escape routes—and. And the Chief just stepped back, slowly lowered his hands even though he was in the middle of tying his wolf tail, very calmly excused himself, and retreated back the way he’d come. Which would perhaps make sense if the Chief was scared of Zuko, but he didn’t look like he was scared.

(“No,” Sokka said when Zuko asked about it, “it sounds like he was trying not to scare you. Zuko, Dad’s trying so hard to make you feel safe. I promise you he’s never going to hurt you again. I get it if you can’t trust him yet, I probably wouldn’t either if I were you, but can you trust me?”)

“Who’s next?” Suki asks, in a not very subtle attempt to change the topic.

Sokka stands up. “Me! Zuko, you wanna spar?”

“What, now?”

“No, tomorrow,” Sokka says, rolling his eyes. “Obviously now, duh. Only if you want to, of course,” he adds. “You don’t have to.”

“Yes, he has to!” The Duke calls from the sidelines. “I wanna see it! Zuko, Zuko, Zuko!”

Zuko shakes his head. “I’m a bender.”

“I’m aware,” Sokka says.

“And you’re not.”

“So?” Sokka shrugs. “Then let’s spar without bending. Honestly, I’d really rather not go up against your bending again anytime soon. I already burned my fingers the first time I tried.” He wiggles his bandaged fingers. “Got it? Burned my fingers?”

“Stop joking about it!”

“Can’t, sorry. It must have burned itself into my mind.”

“Sokka!”

“—Zuko, Zuko, Zuko, Zuko—” (Teo and Toph have joined their voices to The Duke’s.)

Sokka picks up his sword. “Come on, it’s gonna be fun! You kept on telling me how much you love training. And I’m burning with curiosity to see whether I can defeat you in a sword fight.”

Zuko pinches the bridge of his nose. “Why are you doing this to me?”

“Because it helps. Now let’s spar, I’m so fired up for this.”

Zuko groans. “You’re the worst.”

“Ooohh,” Toph calls, “sick burn.”

Zuko presses his forehead into Momo’s fur, hiding his face. “Not you too, Toph!”

“Hey, I’m allowed to do it, I’m also a member of the burned-by-Zuko club, after all.”

“You can’t make a club like that!” Zuko yells, raising his head again in case he starts to spit sparks.

“—Zuko, Zuko, Zuko, Zuko—” (Aang has joined the chorus as well.)

“I’m the worst?” Sokka asks. “Do you really wanna make me feel as if I’m under fire?”

“Shut up.”

Sokka dramatically presses a hand to his heart. “I’m hurt. I’d go through fire and water for you, and that’s how you thank me?”

“—Zuko, Zuko, Zuko, Zuko—” (Even Katara, Haru and Suki are cheering him on now.) (Katara, who only said ‘don’t worry’ about the burned rice, and never brought it up again.)

Zuko resorts to his last remaining tactic: beating Sokka at his own game. “If you continue firing away all your puns like this, you’ll be burned out soon.”

There’s a moment of silence, even the ‘Zuko’ chorus stops, and then laughter erupts all around. It takes Zuko another moment to realize they’re not laughing at him, they’re laughing with him.

“Finally,” Sokka replies, beaming. “I knew I’d get you to join in with the puns. Now will you spar with me so I can practice fighting with one arm? There’s a war going on and I might need it in a real battle one day, just imagine if I break my arm, or if some stupid firebender burns it. Please, Zuko?” Sokka blinks at him like a pup-kitten. “Please please please?”

“Zuko, Zuko, Zuko, Zuko, Zuko, Zuko—”

Zuko gives up. Seems like he’s making a habit of that, and he doesn’t even care, because he’s around friends. He doesn’t have to win against friends. It’s enough to know that he could say no, and they’d accept it. “Fine.”

The children cheer.

Zuko hands Momo to Aang, and then Suki offers him his dao, which he insisted that she keep until she gets her fans back. There’s still a nagging voice in Zuko’s mind telling him he’s not allowed to take them, and he hesitates with his hand halfway to the handle, glancing at the Chief.

The Chief nods encouragingly. “Go ahead, Prince Zuko.”

“Thank you, sir,” Zuko says, taking the swords.

The Chief sighs. “Like I said, you don’t have to call me ‘sir.’” (He’s trying so hard to make you feel safe, can you trust me?)

Emboldened by the familiar weight of the swords in his hands, emboldened by the past three days, not quite thinking things through, Zuko replies, “Only if you don’t call me ‘Prince.’”

To his surprise, the Chief smiles, all the way to his eyes. “Deal.”

Sokka looks immensely proud as he steps into the sparring area.

Zuko follows him, stands next to him and drops his voice to a whisper. “Not to brag, but I’m probably better than you.”

Sokka flashes him a grin. “You wish!”

“I’m serious. Should I let you win?”

The grin fades. “Is this about my dad?”

“Well … Yes.”

“Don’t worry about it. Dad just got his ass handed to him, doesn’t matter if I’m next. No one will think less of me if I lose. Believe me, okay?”

Zuko believes him. Zuko believes him, because he trusts Sokka. Zuko believes him, because Chief Hakoda has been nothing like Ozai. Chief Hakoda laughed at his son’s jokes and complimented Sokka’s awful drawings, he diligently followed Katara’s doctor’s orders until she cleared him, he listened patiently to The Duke whining about missing Pipsqueak, he smiled at Suki fondly as if she were his daughter, talked to her as if she were a friend, and respected her as a fellow warrior—and there was also that one time Zuko went looking for Sokka and found him being hugged by his father. (Zuko silently extracted himself before either of them noticed.) If Chief Hakoda has been behaving so differently from Ozai, then maybe he isn’t like Ozai.

“Okay,” Zuko says.

“And anyway,” Sokka continues, “who cares whether I win or lose when we’re mostly doing this so you get some sword-fighting practice, because you kept telling me that you miss it. So do your best and see if you can win.”

“But what if I hurt you?”

“You won’t.”

“But what if—”

“Then you’ll have more opportunities to practice self-forgiveness. How are your therapy lessons with Aang going?”

“They’re … going.” The truth is, Zuko is still struggling with the concepts of ‘accepting that what happened, happened’ and ‘not letting it poison his energy’ and ‘letting the guilt flow away like water in a river.’ It’s not even because Zuko is particularly inept, it’s just … not something you can learn in a day, or three. (Also, Aang keeps on hugging him in the middle of their lessons, how is Zuko supposed to meditate like that?) But it’s getting better, the guilt is not pressing down on his shoulders as heavily anymore, and Aang and Sokka and Toph are making sure that Ozai’s voice in his head doesn’t get to hiss its lies unchallenged anymore. Zuko never managed to break free from his prison, but bit by bit, day by day, he’s breaking his mind free.

Uncle would be so proud of him, if he could see him now. If ... if he wasn't angry at Zuko. But Sokka was able to forgive him, even Katara was able to forgive him, it doesn't seem so impossible anymore that Uncle might forgive him too.

“Good,” Sokka says. “Now let’s start sparring, I’m so on fire to test my one-armed sword skills.”

Zuko rolls his eyes. “You’ll never let me live that down, will you?”

Sokka’s answering grin shows all of his teeth. “Never.” He draws his sword from its sheath. Last time Zuko heard this sound, he jerked awake with fire in his hands and got into all of this mess. Now look how far he’s come. “So, Your Highness. Ready for some fun?”

“Fun with you?” Zuko splits the dual dao. “Always.”