All These Things That I've Done
by: Kellah aka fuzzy-ninja
Genre: Redemption//unrequited "love" (ZK)//sarcastic humor//one-shot.
Rating: PG-16 (drugs, language).
Summary: a Zuko redemption-fic, post-Crossroads of Destiny, pre-Book 3, a mere speculation, and yes, a plot of sorts.
Copyrights: Avatar: the Last Airbender is copyright of Mike DiMartino, Bryan Konietzko and Nickelodeon.
Gradualism: n. The principle or practice of proceeding slowly, especially in regard to political or social change.
It had already been a week since the conquest of Ba Sing Se (and subsequentially, the Earth Kingdom) had happened. The people of the city were not alerted of this sudden change- if they hadn't realized that there was a hundred-year war going on outside their city walls, how would they realize the change in government? No, they went on, living their normal lives.
The fact that armored guards, Fire Nation guards, began walking through the city raised a few eyebrows and set off a few mouths.
The fact that the Dai Li still roamed the shadows and stalked the corners kept eyes to the ground and rumors discontinued.
It had already been a week since the apparent death of the Avatar. A week since he had last seen them.
Them. The enemy. And Uncle. A week since he had last seen him.
Uncle. He had helped them. Did that make him one of them? An enemy?
Or am I the enemy?
Azula was swift to dissolve these thoughts with promises of poison that he was quick to swallow. "Honestly, dear brother, Uncle was turning you against father. But now... Now father will be so proud of you when he hears how you helped in the grand conquest of the Earth Kingdom! He'll have no choice but to reward you with you position as Crown Prince again."
But was that true? Deep down, Zuko knew that it was all a lie. Azula's promises spelled nothing but trouble. When they would get back into the Fire Nation, he'd be arrested. Put into jail. Sentenced to execution.
At this thought, Prince Zuko snorted. Sitting at a lacquered wooden desk, and staring out at the adjacent window, the teenaged prince shifted uncomfortably in the wooden chair. Not that he had a problem with wood- it just burned so easily. He was so accustomed to metal everything.
The sun was slowly making its way down the sky. His people used to say that this was the most glorious time of day, when the sun was "low enough to touch the earth". He never understood that saying. The sunset meant the falling of the sun, would anyone ever consider that to be glorious?
Uncle would probably know. He knows a lot about these sorts of things.
But Uncle was in jail.
Oh... yeah.
Zuko cleared his throat and pushed the chair backwards to stand up. He had no time to be thinking silly thoughts of sunsets or of traitors. Nope. He had to prepare himself to be presented before his father. Pacing the room, he ran a scenario through his mind. 'Father, I am your loyal son... Please forgive me, for I have... no, I did, I did a foolish thing. I know that you are disappointed with the ill-fated siege on the Northern Water Tribe, but it was Uncle who ruined everything, not I! I know that my mission was to bring back the Avatar, but isn't the fall of the Earth Kingdom even better? I mean, who needs that silly Avatar anyway?'
'That "silly" Avatar has been eluding our country for a hundred years now! Do you take me for some sort of fool, boy?'
'N-no! Father, please try to understand-'
'Understand this!' And then a lovely burning blast of fire would erupt from his hands. Way to go, Zuko. You've really won your father over now.
Throughout his frantic thoughts and even more frantic pacing, Zuko found himself sitting back in the wooden chair and giving an absent gaze to the land and sky outside the window.
Despite his frustration at not producing any sort of good excuse as to why he could not capture a twelve-year old boy, Zuko felt some relief at the sight outside his window. Sure, it was the sunset (which he hated). But at least it was not the rising moon.
Because if Uncle didn't make me feel guilty enough, the water-witch's power source certainly would.
"He hated her. Yes, he did. He hated her. Love, too, but it was a hard, hating kind of love."
Zuko's thoughts ran from fathers and sunsets to caves and mothers. The connection that he and she had made a week ago was, even to him, touching. The fact that this girl, this nobody, was able to stir up a sliver of a reminder of a mother from long ago was astounding.
She had a mother's touch. He recalled, touching his scar. Damn that Avatar! He had missed that touch so much.
He made a noise akin to a boyish giggle. Calling this girl (Well, she does have a name, but it's not like I can afford to get attached) a water-witch and a motherly figure was so contradictory. If I call her a water-witch, then that must mean that I hate her. Which is good. I should hate her. If I call her a motherly person, then that means that I believe that she is a loving, caring, and compassionate person. Which... she is. If I call her Katara (that is her name, right? I'm so sure it is), then that means that I have made some sort of connection to her, or that I've bothered with doing so. But does it still give me a right to hate her?
Propping his elbows on the desk and holding his head in his hands, Zuko tried to run another scenario through his mind.
If the Avatar and my uncle hadn't popped in at that precise moment... would that oasis water... would it have worked?
No, probably not.
It's best to just forget all that.
Because then where would that have led to? None of them could be friends. Never. Not the newest female addition to their group, not the Water Tribe buffoon, certainly not the Avatar (did you see that glare he threw at me in the cave?), and the waterbender...
He stopped. Maybe.
She tried to be friendly. She spoke of healing. She apologized. Apologized. For a few unkind words, when he owed her oh-so-much more. She was so quick to forgive and forget.
Foolish? Yes. So very.
"I thought you had changed!"
"I have changed."
And oh, how it came back to bite both of them in the ass!
'Forget it, dear brother,' Azula's poisonous voice came slithering back into his mind, 'You are fire and she is water. Two opposing forces. Water always consumes fire. You will never win.'
Another voice answered back sharply- 'Opposition is not same as unification, my dear nephew. There is nothing wrong with fighting alongside your opposite. Fire and water compliment each other. They cannot separate from each other. To do so would be to unravel the very fabric of our existence.'
A sharp knock on the wooden door absolved all the voices, and the thoughts they left behind.
"What!" Zuko yelled at the door, as if it were the reason for him feeling so down.
"We've got visitors of the... most hostable kind," a deadly honey voice answered back, "Do be a good host, Zuzu, and help me welcome them."
Zuko walked to the door and opened it to see Azula with a usual smirk on her face, and inspecting her claw-like nails.
"Who are we expecting?" Zuko asked, as they walked down the long palace hallway.
"It's a surprise."
"Who, Azula?"
"You'll see."
The fact that she carried no emotion in her tone frustrated Zuko because it gave no hint as to whom they were about to see.
Down the long hall they went, made a right, left, down the winding stairs, right, left, left, right, second- no, third right, and down another set of dark and dank stairs. The dungeon. The holding cells.
"You missed quite the fight, brother. Can you believe it? Not even a shot to the heart can stop that pesky Avatar. He and his little motley crew tried to sneak into the palace and liberate it. How silly." Azula said, as she recollected the events of two hours ago.
"How come no one alerted me?" The real question should be, "How come I didn't even realize?"
No answer.
Azula continued to walk down the row of cells, eventually stopping at the end of the row. Zuko followed, in perfect dread. All he wanted to do was to go back home, and not continue to deal with the Avatar and his annoying do-goody friends.
"Hello Uncle. I trust that you've been enjoying your stay in these luxurious Earth Kingdom jail cells." Azula said as she leaned towards the bars of one cell.
"Oh yes," a voice answered back, "the meals are rather nice, the fleece blankets are warm, the tea is excellent, and the guards are quite amusing to fool around with. They simply refuse to believe that I am the great Dragon."
"Oh Uncle," Azula answered back in a haughty tone, "It's so funny to see and hear how you've deluded yourself into believing that everything will be alright."
"And my new comrades are quite the conversationalists. Can you believe that this young Water Tribe warrior ran out of insults to call you? Ah, it reminds me of my younger years in the army."
Azula laughed her cold laugh. "Can't you see? We've succeeded where you have failed. Admit it, Uncle. You're a failure."
While this conversation carried on, Zuko noted all the details of the holding area.
They all had their own cells. There were no windows and no vents. The food trays were completely empty, and whatever was in the drinking cups was too dark to be water. He then noted the appearance of his sister's new prisoners.
They were wearing reddish-brown clothes that was common of the Fire Nation peasant class. Besides this change of clothing, their hairstyles had also changed. The Water-Tribe boy's hair was down, and his sister's hair was cut to a short crop, ending around her mid-neck. The Avatar was wearing a sort of disheveled black wig that resembled more of a dead animal than a hairpiece.
"Where's the other girl? The earthbender?" He said, cutting off the banter between his sister and uncle.
"Oh. She's getting her cell specially made. Can you believe it? The blind freak can actually bend metal."
Zuko wondered exactly what the cell would be made of, if not earth, or metal. Wood? The thought of someone whittling a wooden cage to hold a little blind girl amused him greatly, but he hid his amusement with a simply reply: "I see."
"Hey Azula," Katara- no, the waterbender, I can't get attached! began, "I came up with a little ditty about you. Want to hear?" Her voice was disorganized and slurred with what seemed to be delirium. She began to mumble out something in a childish, sing-song voice that sent a small chill up Zuko's spine.
"Did you use the Potosí herb on them?" He asked, as Azula stood triumphantly before her captives.
"Oh yes. I find the effects to be quite relishing."
The Potosí herb was a Fire Nation favorite in terms of torture. Usually hidden in food or drink, the herb was designed to temporarily stop the flow of bending ch'i, as well as to depress the muscle system of the body. The psychological effects were worse. Thoughts filled with delirium, paranoia, suicide, and mania would often plague the minds of prisoners. There were cases where these prisoners-of-war had developed schizophrenia and were deemed too unstable to be allowed access back into their home countries. It was a sad fact, really.
Herb was such a nice word. A word used to cover up what Potosí really was- a drug. Like opium. Herbs are supposed to help people, not hurt them.
"Zuzu," Azula's voice interrupted his thoughts, "I need you to do me a favor. It seems that the Earth King is missing. These brats must know where he is. I have some important business to attend to with the generals upstairs. Could you be a darling and find out where they've hidden the Earth King?" She didn't bother to wait for a response from him, she simply left.
A sudden wave of anger (or was it jealousy?) washed itself over the prince. He wanted to be upstairs attending important meetings with generals. He was the crown prince. He was the heir.
And he was also the one who was in exile.
I should be the one talking to those generals. I shouldn't be in a dungeon, interrogating prisoners. I should have been the one to capture the Avatar. I should have been the one to bring Ba Sing Se to its knees. But no. Little Miss Perfect Princess did it. All of it. And what am I to her? Another lackey? Screw this. She's not going to win this time.
"It was a kind of schizophrenia. A moral split. I couldn't make up my mind. I feared the war, yes, but I also feared exile. I was afraid of walking away from my own life, my friends and my family, my whole history, everything that mattered to me. I feared losing the respect of my parents. I feared the law. I feared ridicule and censure."
Zuko waited to hear the footsteps of Azula disappear completely and the sound of the heavy dungeon door being closed. He coughed loudly to (hopefully) ease the awkward silence. Katara had stopped singing and was now humming a tune that sounded a lot like a childrens lullaby. Aang stared into the crude semi-darkness of the dungeon hall, his eyes retaining no life. Sokka spoke in a low voice to his sister that I'll find us a way out of here and when I do, I'll get those bastards, those damn Fire Nation bastards, how could they do that to you, look at yourself Katara, you're a mess and oh, I'll kill 'em as soon as I get my hands on them, I swear I will. Iroh did nothing but sit in his cell and accept where the fates had dumped him.
Three words drilled themselves into the Fire Prince's mind: This. Is. Pathetic.
Zuko swiftly turned around and walked back down the dank hall and to the door of the dungeon. On the right of the door, there was a small, but noticeable hook. Hanging from the hook was a large key ring with all the keys to the holding cells attached to it. Shakily extending a hand and grasping the key ring, Zuko thought one final time about the action he was about to take.
"But daydreams were merely cobwebs, easily torn into shreds, and I'd quickly be dropped back into reality. And where was happiness? In the yesterdays? In the tomorrows? Not in this hour, this minute, this second. We had one thing, and only thing only, to give us a spark of joy. Hope."
Zuko steadily walked down the dark jail hallway until he reached Aang's cell. The two boys stared at each other, gazes unrelenting. Chk. Crrk. Click! The jail door swung open. Aang didn't budge, all the while thinking, it's a damned trap. Zuko stood for a moment in front of the cell before moving on to open the doors for Sokka and Katara.
None of them budged.
Zuko began to wonder in the Potosí herb was still in effect or if they were just being wary.
Someone finally shuffled out of their jail cell- Katara. She absent-mindedly gazed about the hall, before turning to look the prince straight in the eye. "Bastard, yo-you're tricks w-won't work on me-us. Not-not this time." She wagged a finger in his direction as if she were a parent scolding a child.
"It's no trick." He said hoarsely.
"We're not telling you where the Earth King is." Aang said as he came out of his cell to support Katara's swaggering stature.
"I don't care," Zuko replied slowly to the Avatar, "You can keep your Earth King. Just get out of here. Get out of Ba Sing Se, the Earth Kingdom, just get out."
Aang looked upon his old enemy defiantly. "Why are you doing this? Letting us go? Helping us?" Both boys thoughts drifted back to that fateful night in the forest, with the (un)masked vigilant and a young boy remembering an old friend.
Aang brushed away those thoughts, "Isn't this what you've always wanted?"
"Not anymore."
Silence followed.
"I need to get to the Fire Nation, specifically the capital city," Aang finally said, breaking the silence, "we have no maps, but could use the help of someone who knows the place. That, and... And I need someone to teach me firebending."
It was oddly comforting to Zuko to hear this boy place so much trust on him so soon, but he couldn't comply. Someone else was much better suited for this job. Someone like-
"Uncle," Zuko asked firmly, turning to the cell where Iroh complacently sat, "you should have the honor of guiding the Avatar through the Fire Nation and to teach him firebending." He unlocked the cell door, passing along the invite of freedom.
Iroh said nothing but cracked a smile and bowed to Aang. "Indeed, it would be an honor to help you along your quest, Avatar Aang."
"What about you?" Sokka suddenly chimed in, "Huh? Are you going to be chasing us around again, just like in the good ol' days? I mean, can't let your baby sister have all the glory, right?"
"I'll stall Azula to the best of my ability."
Katara let out a snort. The Potosí's effects on her seemed to be fading as she was able to stand upright without help, but her speech was still slurred. "She'll kill you."
"Probably."
Silence again.
Zuko took a deep breath. "I'm serious. You've all got to get out of here. Now. Who knows when Azula will be back. This is your chance to escape and continue on."
Aang nodded. "Come on, guys. We still have to find Toph. It's a long way to go and not a lot of time left." The others nodded in agreement.
Sokka, limping, led the way down the hall, with Aang and Iroh following close by. Iroh turned and offered the prince a sad smile and mouthed the words, "good luck". Katara stayed.
"I hate you. Did you know that? Hate you." Her voice was soft, wavering, but still filled with hidden reserves of strength, "You lied to me. I trusted you! I believed with all of my heart, that you had changed. That you wanted to be one of the good guys. That you could help us. But no. You chose to fight on her side. That bitch of a sister you've got. And you betrayed my trust. I was so angry at you. I wanted to kill you." Tears were forming in her eyes.
What could he say? He simply lowered his head in shame. There was nothing he could say.
But she continued. "But now... now you're helping us. And I'm so confused! Do I dare trust you again?" Her last statement came through in a whisper.
"Please do."
She shook her head 'no'. "I wish that I wasn't so naïve. That way, boys like you wouldn't be able to fool girls like me. I have emotions, in case you weren't aware. And I don't appreciate when people toy with them."
"I... I'm sorry."
She said nothing, but continued giving him a hurtful stare. You should be. Taking in a deep breath, Katara walked past Zuko and down the hallway to where the others were waiting for her.
There were hushed whispers and the quiet slam of a metal door as they left the holding quarters, leaving Zuko alone in the quiet once more.
"... a man whose last thoughts are of love and wreckage, with no one there to whisper him gone."
Still not seeing his sister and hoping to all the great spirits that they made it out of the Earth palace in one piece, Zuko consolidated himself in his room.
It was night now.
What in the seven hells am I going to do? Murmuring prayers to Agni, Amaterasu, Lugh, Pele, Ushas, Fukurokuju, Lung Wang, Xi-He, and anyone else willing to listen, the seventeen-year old prince found himself not only in a state of hopeless devotion to the will of the spirits (since when had he become so religious?), but also in a state of ever-growing paranoia.
Insomnia eating away at the edges of his brain, Zuko recalled an old memory about his late paternal grandmother, Lady Ilah.
"There was once a great hero of our proud nation named Cúchulainn. He was the half-mortal son of Lugh. Since he was a child, Cúchulainn was always eager to fight and soon was able to outstrip other warriors with his skill in arms and might. So strong was he that he was able to defeat firebending masters without the use of his bending! But despite his strength, he had no power over his anger and this destroyed the lives of those he loved dearly. His anger made his lust for blood and battle and to die a good death grow exponentially. In the Great Civil Battle of 6191, Cúchulainn latched himself onto a rock and despite a mortal wound to the stomach, he fended off the enemies, for the sake of the independence of his country."
Ilah would then stroke his small and chubby five-year-old hand lovingly and smile.
"Dying for the sake of your country may be well and all, but not if your country is being run by imperialists. Do not be tempted, my dear grandson, to die for a war that thrives on chaos and disequilibrium for the world. If you must die for a cause, die for the freedom of others. They who call them our enemies, you will call friends. They who call you a disloyal traitor, will be called as a hero to others."
As a child, he could never understand what point the old woman was trying to make, and would just regard her as crazy. But now, as an adult, he understood. Before her passing, Ilah was an advocate for peace, as he remembered overhearing once. People of the lower class used to call her a hero for standing up to the generals and even to her husband, the Fire Lord, and make protests about absolving the war.
When people protested, they were usually put away. For good.
She did not falter. Ilah knew what the majority of her people wanted, and after nearly 90 years of unrelenting war, they wanted their husbands and sons to come back home. Even if they did not express it as exuberantly as she once did.
After her death, no one bothered to pick up where she had left off. No, they were all too frightened.
"Quand les riches se font la guerre, ce sont les pauvres qui meurent."
I want to be a hero. I want to die for independence. Maybe not for my country, but for the sake of others. I want grandmother's spirit to be proud of me. She can see her work carried on through me. I want mother to be proud of me, wherever she is. And... I want her, that girl, the nobody from the South Pole, that odd vision of faith, and the best friend of hope, to see that she can trust me, and maybe in the end, be proud of me too.
Gathering a few essentials from his earthen confines, Zuko made haste and came up with a quick plan to get out of the labyrinthine palace.
Once outside, the Fire Prince commended himself on escaping without setting any notice to any guard, general, or Angry Princess. It probably helped that he disguised himself as a noble girl from the Fire Nation, complete with a painted face, jingling hair trinkets, cute floral-print kimono, and a high-pitched, giggling, girlish voice.
Slyly shedding a rare grin, Zuko knew that he'd soon catch up to his favorite group of rouges- tea loving Uncle now included- soon, because Phase Two of his heroic plan was now beginning.
Track down the Avatar... and help him to defeat my father.
"He was a traveler now; the act of discovery is not merely the basis of travel but is also the quintessential revolutionary act. Every long journey overturns the established order of one's own life, and all revolutionaries must begin by transforming themselves."
-FIN.