Archive of Our Own ^beta

“I still don’t think this is a good idea,” Sokka calls over his shoulder, pointed, and no, thank you, Katara, is not whining. He doesn’t whine, or mope. Those are girl things.

“You don’t think anything’s a good idea,” Toph says right back, slouched with a fierce scowl as she leans against the saddle’s back, arms crossed over her stomach.

“I’m just sayin’, we haven’t had a run-in with the Fire Nation in a few days, and it’s bound to happen again soon.”

“I think we could use that, actually,” Katara murmurs. She’s been angry and itchy ever since they lost Aang. Sokka is, too. It’s something he doesn’t want to think about. Some people just. Aren’t made to be leaders. Some people just suck at it and screw up epically, and Sokka is one of those, a nice, long, shimmering trail of failures, and Aang just got slapped to the top of the list.

Aang, the Avatar, the kid he left his home to rescue and save and protect. (Aang, the kid who Katara chose over him.) Aang. Sweet, kind, innocent, Aang, who Sokka let get right into the Fire Nation clutches. Thanks. Thanks a lot, Zuko, for snatching his little brother right out from under him.

And Sokka failed Katara just as much by not protecting him. Thinking he can keep Toph safe in the meantime, on top of Katara, his sister, who Hakoda – stupidly – entrusted him with, is laughable. Except it’s the one joke that isn’t funny. And he can try to joke and try to laugh, but it won’t matter, because Aang won’t be here to laugh along with it.

He can try a million times, but Aang won’t be here to laugh with them. Nothing’s really felt like it’s mattered since. There’s too… many things. Like everything’s falling apart. How are they supposed to defeat Ozai when he’s missed an entire month of training? They only had about, maybe, eight? Can’t remember anymore.

Momo jumps up to Sokka’s shoulder, chittering.

“Yeah, we’ll feed you soon,” he promises, “I’ll feed me, too.”

Appa grumbles deeply, lowering closer to the ground.

Sokka sees smoke. “There,” he calls, alert, “Fly us a little closer. Whoever’s waiting for us has got to be somewhere nearby.”

Appa roars again.

They land near the smoke. It’s a small…

“Okay, that’s no campfire,” Sokka says flatly.

“I don’t see any firebenders,” Katara notes.

“I don’t see anything,” Toph chirps, unasked.

“Alright, we’ll get you onto the ground!” Sokka huffs grumpily and jumps off the bison’s head. This isn’t a camp, though they aren’t far from a cave entrance. The girls jump down behind him. “Hellooooo? Strange mysterious campfire?  Giant, empty cave?”

“I don’t think the cave is empty,” Toph cuts in. “Someone’s in there, and someone’s just over that rock right there.” She points to, yeah, a nearby rock, but they’re also in the middle of a woods, so… someone is hiding and carefully spying on them.

She stamps her foot and jerks to the right, and the ground shudders a little, shifting sideways, and there’s a startled – but terrifyingly familiar – yelp, and someone topples sideways.

And picks himself up, on shaky limbs, but Sokka doesn’t care before he’s already got his boomerang out and throwing it. A fire-blast somewhat knocks it aside and Zuko dodges, the weapon narrowly missing his head. “Wait!” he yells.

“Why?” Katara yells, her wanterbending water pooling into a waterwhip around her hands, her entire being shaking with rage. “Why should we listen to anything you say? You took Aang!”

He flinches.

Sokka doesn’t know what he was expecting, but not, definitely not, for the Fire Prince to sort of shamefully curl away from their accusations. “Where is he?” Sokka yells, bolting forwards. “What did you do with him?” He might have actually, stupidly, grabbed the firebenders shirt if he could’ve, and thinks he actually would have if Zuko wasn’t stumbling backwards. From him. Which is strange and weird but he doesn’t care. If he knows what’s good for him right now, he should be scared.

“He’s with me,” Zuko fumbles out, and Sokka almost – almost – stops at the look on his face, small and young and terrified. Not the face he should ever see on the maniac who chased them all around the world. Who attacked his tribe, who burned down Kyoshi Island, who… Well, everything.

But Zuko looks, actually and honestly, scared.

“The person in the cave,” Toph realizes, moving forwards.

“Y – yes. Aang is here. With me.”

And that, Sokka thinks, is the first time he’s ever heard Zuko call Aang by his first name.

“So you expect us to go in there for what?” Katara snaps, “So you can bring it down and bury us? A trap?”

She won’t say what Sokka’s thinking, a why would you bring him back to us, do you think we’re stupid, isn’t it enough you took my little brother away, do you have to taunt me with something new, enough you killed my mother, do you have to make Katara see his body, too?

Because that might be all they find. Sokka’s been trying to prepare himself for that since it happened. Because he knows they might just be looking for a body. He just doesn’t have the strength to say it. He doesn’t know how to tell Katara that, truthfully, they might never see Aang again.

Losing their mother broke something in her.

He should warn her. He just – doesn’t know how.

“I don’t think so,” Toph interrupts, “They’re they only ones here.”

“Okay, what,” Katara snaps, poking a finger at Zuko, “Are you planning? You took Aang. What’s your goal?”

“I didn’t,” he fumbles out, hands raised. Sokka expects him to bend at them any minute, but he’s not moving into anything that Sokka thinks might be a bending position, so maybe they’re safe for the second. “Take Aang. If I had, we wouldn’t be here.”

Sokka looks back at Katara, completely confused, as she looks just as lost, but mostly angry. “Uh,” he asks incredulously, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I honestly thought you’d be more relieved to have him,” Zuko says, a bit hotly.  He’s not yelling though, which is almost the thing that freaks Sokka out the worst. Zuko is always yelling. He’s angry and volatile and always shouting. The person in front of him looks… like a boy. And it strikes him, for the very first time, how young Zuko is. He couldn’t be much older than Sokka, already has a horrifying scar to show for it. Exhaustion is written all over the rest of the face that isn’t off-colored and uncomfortably rippled from a years-old burn, and he’s thin.

He’s never not been thin, but somehow, he looks so small.

And, he’s dressed differently. In something brown and gold instead of Fire Nation uniforms, and he has hair. Whatever that ponytail thing was called, an importance to the Fire Nation that Sokka doesn’t remember or care to know, is gone. The rest of Zuko’s hair is just loose, hanging limp across his forehead and sticking. It makes him look younger. And almost more tired.

And Sokka, despite how bad he wants to ram a nonexistent sword through the boy’s chest and watch him bleed out, cares about Aang far, far more. “Fine. Where is he?”

Zuko backs up. He inclines his head towards the doorway, and heads inside.

Sokka hears the sound first. It’s shuffling, but not actual moving. It’s not walking, anyway, but he knows someone else is here.

Then –

“Zuko?”

Aang. That’s Aang’s voice, and he sounds so young and small and afraid.

(But still, somehow, the first person he calls for isn’t Sokka. It’s Zuko.)

The Fire Prince just moves. He was walking, though limping, something Sokka wouldn’t have noticed if he weren’t watching Zuko’s every move like a hungry hawk. But Zuko half sprints into the darkness, just deep enough it’s growing harder to see, and crouches beside the little shadowed, shifting form.

Aang.

“You’re safe,” Zuko says, because right now, why not? Sokka’s leaning towards thinking the entire world is being eaten by some crazy spirit monster at this point. That, or he has Midnight Sun sickness again. Since when does Zuko care about anything except his throne, capturing Aang, and the rest of the Fire Nation stuff? “They’re your friends.”

Katara makes a little noise, and then her and Sokka are running. She’s pushing Zuko out of the way, dropping into a crouch at his side, and Sokka takes the slower route of circling to his other side.

It is Aang. Too still, too quiet, but very much alive.

“Sokka?” His voice sounds a little… rough and scratchy and wrong. “Katara.”

“Aang!” And Katara’s arms are wrapping around him, shaking and sobbing.

Aang makes a pained little noise. He’s hurt. He’s in pain, and it sounds bad. But he still shifts an arm to drape over her back.

“We were so worried. You’ve been gone for –”

“For… how long?” Aang murmurs, looking between them.

“Over thirty-six days,” Sokka offers, pouting, “I lost my calendar, and someone couldn’t airbend it back to me. I should’ve sent boomerang.”

Aang laughs. Actually, lightly and briefly giggles, not as long or loud as he ought to, but it’s the sound that’s haunted him more than almost anything else ever could.

But he’s more worried about the should-be arrow-tattooed hands that look… well, wrong. “It’s way too dark to see in here,” Sokka whines, “It’s too bad firebenders can’t just come with candle attachments.”

“We do,” Zuko says from somewhere.

“Zuko needs help,” Aang says, seriously, trying to pick himself up, but dropping flat.

“Zuko?” Katara asks, turning her head. She’s as lost as Sokka is.

“Aang needs help,” Zuko interjects, “We should get him on your bison and as far from here as possible before someone finds us.”

“Hang on,” Sokka squawks, “We? You’re in the ‘we’?”

“We can fight this out later,” Zuko interrupts, though it’s clear he’s not happy.

“I agree.” That’s Toph. “Aang needs help. We gotta go.”

And Sokka, despite his pride and wariness, will admit she’s right. Even if letting Zuko tag along is weird.

Sokka leans down to lift him, scooping the boy easily into his arms and getting up. Aang is small, and just as light. Lighter than he ought to be, though, Sokka thinks darkly with a new wave of fury he won't even try to suppress. This was Aang, his little brother, the sweetest kid he's ever known.

And the Fire Nation did this to him, like – of course, they did. That's what they do - hurt.

Which still means Zuko makes no sense.

Aang loops an arm over Sokka's shoulders, trying to hold onto him. He can't, not really - the kid's too worn out even for that.

Sokka really, really wants to find whoever did this to him and set them on fire. This isn’t just a little knock-on-the-head squabble he got into with Zuko. This is real. This is – Aang. And he’s really, really mad.

Aang’s hand is bandaged – no, they both are. Sokka will scream about that when they’re safely on Appa’s back. He carries the kid outside as easily as he did back to the bison’s back. The same way he carried him back into the village so long ago.

Zuko climbs on, too, slower and clumsier and Katara is the one who finally just grabs him by the wrist and hauls him aboard, so he stops slowing them down. She looks angry enough to yell at him, but turns to fuss over Aang instead.

By the time Sokka has Aang carefully settled, propped against the saddle’s side, he’s already passed out again. In the brighter sunlight, he can see far, far clearer that he looks absolutely awful, face pale and strained with pain even in unconsciousness, dark circles under his eyes, and just…

Thin.

Very thin, and Aang’s always been small, but…

Also, he has hair. Just a little bit, but it’s there, and it’s really, really weird. No-hair is about half the kid’s personality. Sokka’s betting he’ll shave it as soon as he has a chance.

And, yeah, both his hands are bandaged, just like he thought. Sokka is almost too afraid to ask.

He wants to yell, and unfortunately, there’s only one person around to vent his anger on, and Katara’s already beating him to it.

“Toph, can you fly Appa?” Sokka asks urgently over his shoulder, still clinging to Aang with the genuine fear that he’ll vanish again in the moment he lets go.

“Sure!” she says cheerfully with a bright, sarcastic smile. “Ask the blind girl to fly.”

“It doesn’t really matter where we’re going,” Katara replies, “As long as we’re not headed towards the Fire Nation. Just get us in the air.”

“Sure,” Toph grumbles, climbing onto Apa’s head and snapping the reigns. “Yip yip! Fly, though I have no idea where!”

“What happened to him?” Sokka demands of the Fire Prince, who Katara’s already fixed with a firm and wary glare.

“Fire Nation,” Zuko says, quiet, no defense, no nothing, just factual. “It was the only thing to keep him from bending. Not uncommon, even among the Earth Kingdom.” He adds that last bit darkly. Personal experience?

“Oh,” Katara hisses, scooting forwards, “Now you’re gonna tell me the Earth Kingdom is barbaric? Well, guess what? Look what your nation did to Aang! To my friend! To a twelve-year-old-boy!”

“Katara,” Sokka tries instinctively, trying to pull his sister off, though she’s furious and shaking with rage, her eyes wet with tears when he wishes he could cry himself (he can’t. He can’t afford to be weak right now. He messes up enough. His dad gave him one job, to protect Katara, and he has to hold that out and she already sees so little of him). But Katara is all up in Zuko’s face now, and it’ll just be a minute before he firebenders at her or hurts her or something.

He could kill her, and Sokka’s angry too, but Katara is at the breaking edge of insanity.

But Zuko doesn’t. He doesn’t fight, doesn’t argue, just shifts back from her, pressed as far to the saddle as it gets and stays there.

“And if you screw this up one more time,” Katara continues raging, “I’ll throw you off Appa myself! You hurt Aang again, and I will end you.”

And then she stalks back to the kid in question.

Zuko says nothing. No arguments, no nothing, and Sokka’s half of the mind to beg him to talk just so they know what he’s thinking, but he doesn’t, just stays there quiet and pale and shaking and looking so, so small.

Zuko’s not supposed to be scared of them. He’s supposed to be this crazy, raging, fearless maniac. Not… a kid? But Sokka knows masks because he’s way, more than an idiot and an unending bucket load of silly quips, he’s a person and he’s fraying at the edges, too.

Katara’s not the only one losing it.

Maybe the Zuko they fought every time was just his mask. The one to cover the fear. He doesn’t want to worry about Zuko.

He has Aang.

“Can you do your magic glow-fingers?” he asks Katara – and it’s so unfair she discovered healing now when Sokka could’ve used it years ago. Thank you, sis.

“You know, I’m really not great with it, but I’ll try.”

They do get the bandages off. Zuko still says nothing. Katara bends her water from her bag onto Aang’s right hand, and everything glows.

“It’s not working,” she says, tired and frustrated.

“What do you mean?” he demands, semi-hysterical and mostly terrified. Aang can’t just not bend because the Fire Nation got him and they all failed.

“It’s too messed up, and I’m just not good enough at it yet.” Katara drops her hands, shoulders slumping with defeat and misery. “I don’t know nearly enough about healing, Sokka. I’m trying, but… they’re just…”

“You can’t even help with the pain?” Zuko asks, the first thing he’s said since she yelled at him. “Not even a little?”

“I’m trying,” she snaps back, and he immediately shuts down again.

This time, Sokka sees Toph turning her head a little, like she’s feeling something or seeing something, except obviously, she isn’t actually seeing. But it’s creepy when she does that. Like she somehow sees even more of people without sight.

Katara keeps working. Sokka lets her, until they’ve flown out for a while and he finally heads out to make sure they’re actually heading in a reasonable direction and kicks Toph to the back.

Aang is the only person Appa would fly for without guiding him. One of the many things they’ve missed.

But when Katara finally slumps against the saddle side, exhausted from trying and failing to heal, Sokka is the one flying and trying to find a nice and reasonable place to set camp.

“I, um, didn’t really mean that,” he hears his sister finally murmuring.

She’s talking to Zuko, who still says nothing.

Sokka doesn’t think he’s the only one who has a hard time falling asleep that night, even if he’s curled around Aang.

***

The kid wakes up before him. Sokka, embarrassingly, realizes he must’ve slept through an entire nightmare fiasco. Aang and Katara are being hovering and clingy with each other, naturally. Momo is sitting on Aang’s shoulder and incessantly licking his head, and the airbender, for his part, is entirely covered with Appa-drool.

“Oh, hey,” Sokka offers, picking himself up, “What’s for breakfast?”

“Would you like these?” Toph asks cheerfully, scooting a bowl of berries at him.

“Ugh. More berries? Isn’t that all we ate yesterday?”

“It’s all we got, Sokka,” Katara says flatly.

“Yeahhh, greaaaat. So, how’s Aang today?”

“Much better,” the kid offers with a bright smile, though it drops even faster. “I can actually feel something in one of my hands again.”

“Is that supposed to be reassuring, Twinkle Toes?” Toph asks.

Yeah,” Aang actually answers. To that name, and the question, with way too much cheer. Which is horrifying, frankly. Sokka would die before answering to a name like that. “It’s much better than it was. I mean, it hurt all the time, but it’s a lot better now, and I think I can bend again.”

“Don’t answer to Twinkle Toes!” Sokka Squawks, because that’s the easiest thing to think about, “It’s not manly!”

“So,” Aang seriously asks, “Is Zuko better?”

Sokka looks past him at the Fire Prince, leaning against a rock, head lowered, but not asleep, though he hasn’t twitched as long as Sokka dragged himself from his tent. “Can we just take a moment to talk about Zuko being here and not chasing us all around the world?”

“He’s changed a lot,” Aang protests, like that’s supposed to make sense, the same time Katara asks a “what do you mean, ‘is he okay’?”

“Yeah,” the airbender nods, “If you can heal, did you heal him yet?”

“Heal him?” Sokka squeaks, pointing in Zuko’s direction, “He’s perfectly fine.”

“Actually,” Toph intervenes, ever the killjoy, “He’s not.”

“What?!” That’s both him and Katara.

“Did he get hurt kidnapping you?” Sokka asks. He’s completely serious, even if it sounds like a very unamusing quip. He’s mostly just – immensely confused right now, alright? Nothing is making any sense.

“Zuko isn’t the one who got me,” Aang replies, shaking his head, “Admiral Zhao did.” And then it’s not the little childish innocence anymore, as his face collapses into something dark and haunted and afraid. “Zuko got captured trying to break me out, and they took us back to the Fire Nation together.” He’s wrapped his arms around himself now, curling into a little ball, and oh – Katara must’ve somehow got him to change clothes, because he’s out of the awful shade of red he got stuck in and back in another pair of his old clothes.

Sokka scoots closer, feeling utterly useless, and really can do nothing more than offering an awkward pat to his shoulder, squeezing it gently and praying that touch doesn’t hurt. He’s been hurt more than on his hands – Sokka’s not too stupid to not notice that.

Katara just can’t heal everything.

“Why would Zuko have been captured?” Katara asks, “I know Zhao had him restrained at the Fire Temple, but I never understood why.”

“It’s Zuko’s story,” Aang murmurs, hugging his knees and staring blankly in front of himself. “I – I saw the Fire Lord.”

“Zuko’s dad?” Sokka guesses.

“Yeah.”

And he couldn’t do anything. Ozai probably hurt him, and Aang won’t talk about it, but he’s terrified. Katara’s face breaks with something gutted and pulls the kid into her arms again. Sooka wraps an arm around his back, too.

“I’m sorry,” his sister murmurs into his hair.

Yeah, Sokka’s betting that’ll go as soon as he can shave it. Which will be at least a few days, with Katara’s healing abilities.

“I know what I need to do,” Aang says, his eyes wet but still sharp with an uncharacteristic, terrifying anger. His time in prison has changed him. And it hurts. “I’m tired of being helpless. I have to learn the other kinds of bending and take out Ozai.”

“How did you guys get out?” Toph asks.

“Friends,” Zuko answers, still not lifting his head. Like either it hurts, or he’s too afraid or maybe worn to do it. “Some people from the Fire Nation who support the Avatar.”

Sokka whirls, and he can’t be the only one that’s gaping. “There are people in the Fure Nation who support us?” he squeaks.

“There’s right and wrong on every side,” Zuko answers vaguely, “That’s what makes choosing so hard for me.”

“I’m still not cool with you trying to kill us,” Sokka offers, entirely awkward but still owing, “But thanks for saving Aang and bringing him back.”

The Fire Prince actually looks up. His smile is hesitant, tentative, but he gives the briefest nod ever.

Sokka accepts the thanks and awkwardly scoots away.

***

Aang swears he’ll try training one-handed, or some other crazy method, but Toph angrily wrestles him back in bed, and there they are, or were, before door to the earth-tent the two of them were sleeping inside crashes open and Toph’s head pops out.

“Sokka! Katara, actually, anybody, can you get in here? I think Aang’s having a nightmare, and I have no idea what to do.”

Sokka beats the others. He’s used to nightmares. Katara has one at least once monthly of their mother’s death. Their dad said they’ll probably never go away, though they have gotten better. And then he was gone, and all of that and trying to keep Katara calm had all fallen on him.

But, point being, he knows what to do. At least with his sister maybe not so much a crazy powerful airbender.

And Aang will air-blow people away if his dreams are too bad. It’s happened.

He did that to poor, poor Momo once.

Katara’s dreams are more of seeing her mother’s body. Aang’s are probably more of the violence. Which means he’ll probably start lashing out, and good thing he’s no firebender, or Sokka would be dead. Or earth, actually. He can handle being blown at.

“Aang!”

But the kid’s already awake and bolt upright, looking around, wide-eyed and terrified. “Zuko!”

Because, of course, that’s his first instinctive person to call. At this point, it’s, you know, why not?

Zuko is, somehow, the second person into the tent, even if he makes walking look nearly impossible for some reason. But he’s still skidding to a stop next to Sokka and crouching in front of the kid.

“Aang?” Sokka tries, tentative and mostly lost at what to say.

Zuko knows, and Sokka hates that he’s the one who knows when Sokka’s always been the one with that role. He’s supposed to be strong for them, to know what to do and everything, but a month passed and now he’s just not.

“Toph, take the tent down,” he snaps over his shoulder, and the earthbender does, with a bit of grumbling.

It’s not sunny out, but the sky is bright enough that something in Aang relaxes almost immediately, and the Fire Prince turns back to him with a few quite murmured words, and Aang just hugs him.

Literally, wraps his arms around his middle and clings with the same sort of desperation he latched onto Sokka with.

Aang’s greatest fear is failing, and next is being left behind. And somehow, one month of time, he’s gotten this attached to the boy Sokka spent this whole time hating, thinking he was the one how took his little brother from him. But he wasn’t. Apparently.

The airbender says nothing, shoulders shaking as he cries and mostly, just clings. Zuko makes a little sound of pain, but doesn’t try to pull away or anything.

Sokka scoots closer to him, hand settling on his back and trying to pretend Zuko isn’t the person his little brother is latched onto. “Hey, we’re okay. We’re alive, and we won’t let them hurt you again.”

I won’t let them take you, he thinks, terrified and desperate, pretending it’s something he’s able.

“Zuko,” Katara interjects softly, and the girls carefully peel Aang off of him.

Sokka doesn’t know why. He’s just a bit selfishly glad he’s gone, even if he definitely noticed the tightness on his face. He’s in pain, a lot of it, and being touched makes whatever’s wrong hurt worse. Something nobody’s still dared ask him about. Well, not pressure. All he does is snap “I’m fine” and keep existing in misery even though they have a semi-functional healer right over there.

Also, Katara is half carrying him.

Okay, not thinking about that either.

But he and Aang are alone enough for him to gather the kid into a hug, just them, what he really, really wanted to do from the start.

Hold on and don’t let go.

Aang is still crying quietly, even if his muffled sobs have mostly subsided. The kid rarely cries, but this was enough to shake him up really, really bad.

“You wanna talk, or… just pretend none of this ever happened?” Sokka asks.

“I can’t,” Aang says, not explaining which question he’s answering. Then – “it did happen, Sokka. I can’t just ignore it.” He’s wiping tears from one of his eyes now. “I know, everyone talks about the Fire Lord, but no one said he was so…”

“Horrible?” Sokka supplies.

“Worse,” Aang corrects, sniffling quietly. “He was worse.”

Sokka wants to tell him he never has to see the man again, but that’s not true. Aang does have to face this crazy guy again. And defeat him. He has to, because he’s the Avatar. Rule that out. “He won’t hurt you again,” Sokka tries instead, because that’s no lie.

“That’s not what I’m worried about. What if I fail again? What if, even if I somehow manage to learn all the elements, and I already lost an entire month of time, and I still fail, and he hurts you guys or he gets Zuko again, or…?”

Sokka, frankly, just wants to know how, exactly, the kid became so worried about Zuko. “I guess for a Fire Lord, he doesn’t care much for his kids, either?” What’s a good joke? Feels like that just got zapped out of him.

“He came, I think, like every day,” Aang whispers, his voice quiet and shaking and haunted. “Every day. I – I think. It was a lot. My cell was right next to Zuko’s. I – I could hear the screams and I couldn’t do anything.”

Sokka’s brain needs a full few minutes to process this, okay? “He hurt his own kid?” And somehow, Aang’s sudden, unexplained clinginess towards Zuko suddenly makes a lot of horrifying sense. Sokka’s not going to throw up, but he can’t think of anything that would make Hakoda hurt him, he wouldn’t. The screams – Zuko doesn’t scream, what did Ozai do? “Okay, let’s add ‘terrible dad’ to the crime list,” Sokka tries, raising his hands in surrender. “That list really goes on, doesn’t it?”

Aang huffs and sort of giggles and sniffs again. “Yeah.”

“Really bad,” Sokka repeats, head still spinning and cradling the kid closer. He knew Aang was hurt, but he had no, absolutely no idea that he was held with Zuko, or that – that he heard someone getting tortured? Because, honestly, what?!

Add to crime list, no question.

He hates the sudden, new understanding he feels of Aang now. No wonder he’s fussing over Zuko so badly.

“All that time, he was just trying to get to me because he thought his dad would love him if he did,” Aang murmurs, and Sokka really desperately wishes he would stop talking the traumatizing horror. “But when his dad saw him, all he said was that he was weak and a failure, and he never wanted to see him again, anyway.”

“That’s messed up,” Sokka complains, “That is so, so messed up.”

You don’t earn love. But Zuko’s never had anyone in his life who loved him, has he? That actually explains a lot.

***

Katara gives Aang another healing treatment, and mostly works until she drops, and that’s after Toph tells her she’s healing something wrong, something horrifying about feeling bones, and Sokka and Zuko look at each other in complete and utter horror and scooch away as quick as possible.

Hakoda, for all the things Katara is angry at him for, has never hurt them. Sokka doesn’t even understand it. Gran Gran was perfectly okay with the disciplinary thing, but Hakoda was not. Sokka always thought Hakoda would actually and only murder someone who hurt them. Or, you know. Something like that. But, he was amazing, even if he left to fight in the war and left Sokka here alone and lost over his head. But he would never hurt them.

Zuko’s dad was literally torturing him, And Sokka knows he’s missing a few details, but he’s getting the point. And he’s heard and seen enough to be horrified, and to see exactly what Ozai really is. And it’s not the wild, what-is-wrong-with-you jerk that one-month-ago Zuko was.

He literally has no heart at all.

Katara somehow coaxes Zuko into a very brief healing session, though he’s stubbornly refusing to show them anything. There are bandages under his shirt, and he tries to torch the next person who touches him, so no one tries again. Toph tells them to let him suffer and goes back to sleep. Katara tired healing anyway, until she looked pale and nauseous, and Sokka doesn’t think that’s anything exhaustion related.

He doesn’t ask. He’ll begrudgingly accept to give Zuko some privacy. He deserves there to be someone in the world who isn’t poking at him.

They go back to sleep-time, and Toph makes an extra earth-tent for Zuko, who refuses to sleep in it, so Sokka steals it instead with a serious “don’t burn my tent!” to the firebender before diving in head-first and whining all the while.

But he also gets the feeling the prison was underground, and he’s not doing that to Zuko after seeing how Aang reacted to earth walls earlier. He’ll need some time. They both will.

Oh, and the next person, to unsurprisingly wake everyone screaming is Zuko.

“That’s just gonna be no sleep for me tonight, will it?” Sokka whines, picking himself up from his glorious blanket on the hard, cold ground and lazily crawling for his own tent. He does not want to wake up, but he swears he heard a sound from in here. And even if he’s tempted to let Zuko suffer a night of misery just so he can get a nice, full night of sleep again, Sokka also owes the guy. And he really hates owing.

Katara beat him there. Somehow, but she’s already crouching over Zuko and shaking his shoulder, which is the worst, worst thing you can do with the dreams he’s probably having the my-dad-set-me-on-fire sort of dream, because, you know, Fire Lord, that has to have happened, right?

Sokka grabs her dress and yanks her backwards just as Zuko awakes with a violent jolt, flinging a wave of fire outwards and rolling into a crouch. He’s fast and insanely, terrifyingly agile. Cat-like almost.

“Don’t torch my tent!” Sokka wails.

Katara whips her waterbending bag out to douse everybody.

“Hey!”

Zuko’s still backed into the tent-wall, and one inch closer, he’ll knock the thing down on their heads.

“Why don’t you,” Sokka tries, grumpily shaking water from his face and poking at the doorway, “Scooch back and let me deal with it? I’m good at nightmare-y stuff.”

“Yeah, no you’re not.”

“Yes, I am! I’m good at taming wild cats, too.”

“How?” Katara sasses, “When you kill them and eat them? Are you going to eat Zuko?”

“Wha – hey – would you just let me do this?” Sokka whines.

“I’m the waterbender,” she argues fiercely and shifts forwards again, into the now nice-and-wet tent. Which means a lot of things, I’m more useful than you, I’m not going to get hurt, I can help him – all things that are actually true.

Zuko’s hands are glowing. He hasn’t moved, hasn’t twitched, and Sokka’s not fully sure he will. Not even their argument, really, has snapped him out. Come to think of it, it’s probably making things worse. The kid’s been through a lot. People yelling is only gonna make him twitchier.

And he won’t stop shaking. Sokka’s starting to think it’s not only from fear. Maybe part exhaustion, or just as much pain. Katara never said how he was hurt, but her face sort of broke into raw and open horror when she’d laid the water on him, and that was about all Zuko could stand before he got up and moved.

Like anyone touching him is terrifying for him now.

“Zuko,” Katara repeats softly, firmly.

He twitches. Flinches.

“You’re not stuck with your dad,” Sokka offers.

Katara scowls disapproving over her shoulder.

“What?!” Because he honestly doesn’t know what to say. He’s so, so bad with people, and he can’t keep on pretending otherwise. Zuko needs some actual, real help right now. Something he can’t give.

Katara scoots a little closer, hands raised. Zuko doesn’t attack, which is a plus, and Sokka finally very begrudgingly scoots back out, feeling mostly entirely uncomfortably and horribly out of place.

He sits outside the tent, sullenly. Watches the stars, lets himself somewhat, briefly doze off, wonders what the idiots back inside the tent are doing, because they still haven’t come out, but his sister seemed to have a much better idea what to do than he does, which is great. Everyone’s better at everything than him, aren’t they?

Katara crawls back out of the tent, finally, giving Sokka a worried, tight-lipped look that he honestly can’t read, and then Zuko comes outside.

He twitches and instantly looks away when he sees him, like it’s almost physically painful somehow. Sokka immediately sparks up with insult.

“Sorry I woke you,” Zuko says, like that’s the most average, normal thing to say after you wake up screaming from a my-dad-is-torturing-me nightmare.

“Sure,” Sokka grumbles, head hurting, because that’s the only coherent thing he can think of. He doesn’t know how to ask Zuko non-offensively if he has a clue how screwed up that is.

Zuko doesn’t say anything else, just curls up in on himself and sits like that, breathing disturbingly labored. Sokka makes an immediate mental note to ask Katara about this, because, honestly, what. Does the idiot have a broken rib and is walking like that? It sounds believable. He also doesn’t want to know – this is Zuko, the Fire Prince, and they’re supposed to hate him. Sokka wants to hate him, not sympathize, but when he looks at him now, he just sees a kid, and it’s vaguely horrifying. The kid – with the evilest dad in the world, who wasn’t just an awful person, but an absolute, horribly father.

To the point of being straight up inhumane.

Sokka doesn’t want to think about it. When he thinksdad, he thinks Hakoda, the man’s warmth and safety and always-present smile, and how desperately he yearns to have that again. Even far away, even if he knows his dad would be sorely disappointed by half the things he’s done, he would never, ever hurt him.

Zuko was tortured by his own dad. It’s sickening.

“You know,” Sokka ventures weakly, “We aren’t gonna let him get to you again, right?”

Zuko looks away. Sokka doesn’t actually think he’ll say anything, but then – “Don’t get yourselves killed for me.”

“You almost got yourself killed trying to get to Aang,” Sokka answers, and he means it, not to be sappy or sentimental, but it still means everything to him.

He flinches. “No, I didn’t. I was just going to recapture him and bring him home myself. The same thing would’ve happened, and I would’ve ignored it if I weren’t down there with him. I don’t deserve your loyalty.”

Yeah, and Sokka doesn’t deserve to be having this conversation in the middle of the night, he’s tired and cranky and wants to scream himself raw, and he understands Katara’s little worried look now – she’s worried about Zuko, and Sokka’s worried about him, hates that he is, and is mostly just confused.

What in the entire world are they supposed to say to this dumpster fire kid?

“You didn’t deserve your dad hurting you,” Sokka tells him with fierceness. “I knew my dad. He was amazing, and even if I know he’d be disappointed with me, he wouldn’t hurt me.”

Is Zuko crying?

Can Sokka go back to sleep? “Let’s bypass the tents and sleep out here,” he decides quickly, “I need to sleep, or I’m going to die.”

He has no clue if the resounding sound was agreement or vaguely amused or maybe just an I’m-trying-not-to-cry sound.

***

When he really, really wakes, still tired and cranky from the many sleepless nights, it’s to see Aang curled near Zuko, both of them still out. It’s as sweet as it is absolutely disturbing, and Sokka has to try really, really hard not to scream aloud when he sees them, because, honestly, what? “Seriously, what’s with that?” he asks hysterically.

“They’re sleeping,” Katara shrugs, “Shush.”

“Yeah,” Toph deadpans lazily, sprawled over a rock and mud caked.

Sokka’s about to pass, already thinking food, but stops and does a double-take of the twelve-year-old who literally just woke up. “What did you do to your clothes?”

“I don’t need clothes,” Toph says, like that’s the most natural thing in the universe, “I’m blindddd.” And waves a hand pointedly in front of her face. Which is not how clothes work.

“Okay, it’s clothes washing day,” Katara decides smugly, “Past time anyway. Anyone know if Zuko even has other clothes?”

“Hey, don’t ask me,” Sokka shrugs, “Prince Sparky over there is really freaking me out.”

“He’s afraid,” Toph says quietly, “He’s always afraid.”

Sokka thinks about the nightmare and can say nothing. “I think he scared us a lot, too,” he protests.

“I’m not happy with any of what he did,” Katara replies, “But if this is a ruse, it’s an awfully good one. Aang told the truth about everything, and…” She turns away. “Zuko is hurt.”

“What happened to him?” Sokka asks through the knots of anxiety in his stomach. He has to know. If Zuko’s sticking around, he has to know, if he’s in charge and taking care of everyone like they all know he is, he has to know.

“Whatever Ozai did really did numbers,” Katara murmurs, “He’s struggling to firebend. I think he’s afraid of himself. And… he has a lot of burns. Small, but… there. And…”

“Does the burn on his face count as ‘small’?” Sokka asks, because, honestly, what does small mean?

“No,” Katara answers flatly, “Smaller than that. But they add up, and some of them are… messy.” She looks away and wraps her arms around herself. “Like they were, I don’t know, torn open a few times or…”

And, Sokka thinks tiredly, I’m betting the one on his face is from his very kind and considerate dad, right? He knows he should ask Zuko himself, but he doubts the boy would ever talk about it, and frankly doesn’t want to carry on a conversation with him that leaves him more traumatized than every last one. And thinks, dizzily, no wonder Aang was so shaken up.

“I could hear the screams and I couldn’t do anything –“

Because like telling the kid he meant nothing to him wasn’t enough, he had to go down there and hurt him all the time, too? “And what?” Sokka asks, before something else even worse comes up later down the line. If he has to cry, he’d rather do it at once, thank you, sis.

“A lot of bruising,” Katara settles on, “I think one of his ribs is broken, and he really needs to be more careful with that.”

Uh.

And they were saying he didn’t look hurt.

He swears and waits for the nearest person to smack him, but Aang’s still sound asleep.

Also, how was he not screaming when Aang hugged him?

Like he’s somehow earnestly come to believe he deserved all that pain. Sokka can’t even deal with it, because he’s gonna lose his mind if he does. He just feels stupid and wrong and…

And, what’s wrong with him?

Sokka can’t do anything useful, because Katara has to do all the healing and he’s no waterbender and of no help at all, and Aang is more important than Zuko and needs to keep learning bending, but… Zuko needs help, too.

“Is there, like, anything Ozai didn’t do to him?” Sokka demands. His entire stomach is twisted in knots again. Zuko’s still managing that even while he’s being good, isn’t he?

“No,” Katara says, really, really quietly, “Not really.”

“How’d nobody tell me Prince Sparkles had the most insane pain tolerance?” Sokka gripes, because that’s actually presently the easiest thing for him to contemplate. He was walking. The idiot had a broken rib and he was walking.

Did his dad hit him? Or – or –

His brain is unhelpfully wracking itself to search up all the breaking-rib methods, and he wishes it would stop.

(And then he remembers, again, that Zuko’s ridiculous-looking ponytail-thing that has actual cultural significance to the Fire Nation is gone, and wonders if he cut it off, or if someone did it too him. Wouldn’t be the worst thing Ozai did.)

“No idea,” Toph answers, serious.

Sokka isn’t laughing, either. “I’m gonna go to the town,” he says over his shoulder, “You can do whatever you want with my clothes, Katara. And hand a pair to Zuko if he needs one. I’m going to see if I can find anything.”

And all Zuko was asking, right after they got on Appa and flew off, was if Katara could help Aang.

He doesn’t know how he ever thought Zuko was evil – he’s the most self-sacrificing idiot Sokka’s ever known.

***

Three hours and one nice pillow-screaming later, he comes back with something that’s supposed to be enough to dull pain, and hovers and irritates Zuko until he drinks it.

Katara’s saying something about heading north.

“If there’re Water healers, they have to be North,” she says, “And I can’t do everything.”

“Then we fly north,” Sokka decides firmly, “We have Toph and Zuko for when Aang’s learned Earth.”

“You,” Zuko asks, actually confused, “Are keeping me?” Which is kinda a teeny bit too emotional for Sokka, but Zuko looks so confused and overwhelmed and almost hopeful that it gives him a migraine again.

“We’re not throwing you off Appa,” he replies seriously. The bison roars his agreement. “See? Even Appa agrees with me.”

“They mean it,” Aang offers, scooting closer to Zuko. He reaches out to lightly bump his arm, because they still can’t hold hands, and he must know that Zuko’s actually somewhere in the breakable range right now. The Fire Prince reaches back to pat his forearm, which should not be so sweet. How long were they actually in prison together? Sokka roughly calculates the timing going and coming – two, maybe three weeks? But it was enough to change them. Enough for Zuko to go from Prince Rageful to Traumatized Outcast. “See? They aren’t gonna get rid of you.”

Zuko smiles, actually a real, brief smile of relief, and Sokka wonders distantly if that’s the first he’s smiled in years.