Note: This fic is based in an AU I'm writing called Another Brother where an amnesiac, burned, ten-year-old Zuko was found on a Fire Nation ship and eventually adopted by the Water Tribe. Yeah. Anyway, I wrote this drabble on request for RoachPatrol a month or so back, and randomly decided post it now. Enjoy!

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Zuko would always remember the day he first saw the dead husk of the Fire Nation ship.

He had been an adopted member of the tribe for perhaps just over six months, and sometimes he feared with some strange anxiety he couldn't quite place – that it was too good to be true, that it would end soon and that minds would be changed and that he would be cast off and abandoned to the Earth Kingdom. These were real, very vivid fears, and although he couldn't quite place where they were coming from… with each day they were fading. Sometimes he forgot to worry all together. And sometimes Zuko felt so settled into the routine of his family's life so well he caught himself calling Hakoda "Dad" without even thinking about it.

He was awoken one cold, bitter spring day by a touch to his shoulder. It was before dawn, the top of the sun not even to the horizon. Zuko shook his head and struggled to sit up, blinking in confusion and listening to sleepy complaints from Sokka as he, too was woken.

Hakoda knelt above them both, already dressed in parka and handing the boys two of their own. "Dress quickly," was all he said, although his voice was calm. This was no emergency. "We will eat on the way."

One of Sokka's eyes was glued shut from sleep, and he rubbed at it, asking in a thick voice, "Where are we going?"

"There is something you two need to see." And that was all Hakoda would say.

Shortly after, the two boys found themselves — still yawning and blinking in the dawning grey light — following Hakoda's trail as he led them from the village and out into the snowdrifts. Wherever they were going couldn't have been far, because Hakoda ignored the sled-dogs completely and instead gave Sokka and Zuko each a thick slice of jerky to chew: to warm their blood and wake them up.

Sokka had a natural gift with direction, but the sun was rising and Zuko had collected his wits about himself first. He dug an elbow into his brother's ribs. "We're heading to the south-west trail," he hissed.

"What?" Sokka asked, then blinked again and looked around. "Hey, yeah…"

The children were never allowed to go this way, for reasons the adults frustratingly refused to divulge. It was dangerous, Gran Gran had said. Not a place for little boys and girls. Of course that explanation had set their imaginations running wild with thoughts of sharp pitfalls, ferocious beasts and angry spirits. Sokka had tried to sneak off down this very path only a couple of months back. Katara had been terrified at the thought either of her brothers getting hurt and started crying, and Zuko had stood with her even as Sokka called them both chicken-moles. But eventually with both Katara and Zuko firmly against the plan, Sokka been forced to turn back, sulking.

And now they were heading down it.

"Dad?" Sokka asked, raising his voice and increasing his pace to a trot to catch up to the Chief. Zuko quickly followed.

But Hakoda only pointed to a sharp ridge not so far ahead. "We'll go to the top," he said. "I'll answer your questions once we are there."

The two boys exchanged a look. They weren't that far from the village at all.

Sokka and Zuko managed to reign their burning questions in — just barely. The air was so cold, steam was streaming from all three of them and freezing again on their eyelashes and cheeks. It was growing lighter with every moment, too. The light of false dawn stretched across the horizon — the shadows receding and the sea birds making sleepy calls to one another.

Then they reached the top of the ridge and looked down, and for a long, long moment neither Sokka or Zuko could think of anything to say.

Then Sokka spoke up, and if anything he was indignant. "What's that doing here?!"

It was a Fire Navy ship. Old and slightly rusted, it sat listing on one side upon a high shelf of ice. Yet it was at least a mile away from the ocean.

"That," Hakoda said, slightly amused at his son's reaction, "has been here since before I was born."

Zuko stared, his unburned eye round in surprise. A strange chill went down his spine and he looked away from the ship and back to Hakoda. "How did it get here?"

Hakoda gestured in answer, motioning for the boys to follow him down the other side of the ridge; they were going to see the ship up close. "After the Fire Nation wiped out the Air Nomads they set their sights on our tribe and to our cousins in the North. It was said that there was a fresh attack every month, right when the moon was at its newest, and when our waterbenders would have the least strength. Yes," he said to their startled looks, "we had our own waterbenders in those days. They were the ones who took this ship."

They were nearly to the hull now and Hakoda reached out to lay a mittened hand on the smooth metal surface. When he spoke again, his voice was quiet, although neither Zuko or Sokka had to strain to hear him. "Inside this ship there are dark cells furnished with chains. The Fire Nation took our waterbenders, and some of our pretty women and young men."

A convulsive shudder ripped down Zuko's spine this time and he crossed his arms, looking high up to the bow of the ship, trying not to feel sick.

"B-but…" It wasn't usual for Sokka to stutter, but faced with this knowledge, and one of the vehicles that did it, he was shocked. "But what happened to them… after?"

Hakoda would never lie. Not to his son, and not at this lesson. "We think they were made as slaves, or perhaps killed. But it's only a guess. We never saw them again."

"Today," Hakoda continued, after a pause, "we will explore the top deck only. There are dangers below, and sights you two are too young to see. Later when you are older and about to become men you will each spend a night in the bowels of the ship, alone." His lips twisted into a small smile. "It has become a tradition; a way to show your bravery and to honor those who were taken."

Neither boy said anything more and they silently followed Hakoda up the rampart to the main deck. There wasn't much to see, really. Decades of harsh winter storms, sea salt, and ill-use had rusted most of the exposed areas of the deck into unrecognizable lumps. Sokka walked over to explore what remained of the catapult, and Zuko found himself sharing the deck with Hakoda.

"You're being very quiet," Hakoda remarked.

Zuko still had his arms crossed over his chest, but at the chief's words he struggled to loosen them. He gave a shrug. He still felt sick, and strangely angry. "I guess that means I must have done that too, doesn't it?" he asked.

"Done what?"

"Hurt people." Zuko answered, bluntly. "Kidnapped them from their homes and took 'em back to the Fire Nation." His arms were crossed again, and although he didn't know it, he looked small and fragile standing there in his parka.

"No, son." Hakoda put a hand to his shoulder, making Zuko look up at him. "We found you on a smaller battle cruiser than this. It was newer, I doubt it had seen any action at all… and you are young. You wouldn't have been in any of the fighting."

The words should have helped, but somehow they didn't. They were only a small bandage over the aching self doubt in his heart. "Then why was I there?" But of course, there was no answer. Zuko turned away, looking again at the rusted deck. "I hate the Fire Nation." There were hot points flickering behind his eyes, although he refused to acknowledge them.

"Zuko," Hakoda said and then paused. Sokka was now scrambling over the catapult and not paying them the slightest bit of attention, still Hakoda carefully directed the other boy away so they could talk more privately. "There has been something I've been wanting to talk to you about…. You do realize we found no other children on your ship?"

"And you found me in a life raft." Zuko said, with an air of someone repeating what he had been told. He had been too fevered with his wounds to remember, after all.

"That's right. With several-day-old wounds." Hakoda paused again, looking out over the deck and back to the village, a frown etching his features. "The ship's logs were thrown overboard and perhaps if I thought of them in time they could have been retrieved. But there is a possibility that one of the men on the ship was your father — I can't think of another reason why they would bring along a child your age." His eyes met Zuko's now. "And if that's the case then your father died by my orders, if not by my hand." Zuko looked at him, just looked at him, unsure what to say. And to his complete surprise Hakoda seemed to back down. His hand slid from Zuko's shoulder and he glanced away. "I'll understand if you resent me for that."

"N-no!" the boy blurted, causing Hakoda to glance sharply at him. "I mean… I don't remember him. I don't remember anything, and it's better anyway 'cause…" he trailed off, looking around the deck. The unspoken nightmares of the Fire Nation ship seemed to echo between them. But Zuko seemed to straighten up, and square his shoulders. "When I grow up, I'm going to be a really good warrior, and I'll help you and Bato and everyone else stop these kinds of things. Maybe I can infiltrate Fire Nation ships—" He paused and put a hand to the left side of his face, not quite touching his facial burn. It would be hard to be in disguise, with his scars.

Hakoda looked down at him, a mix of pride and amusement on his tanned features. The boy was so very young – and earnest. "I'm sure you will be a very strong warrior one day, Son."

"Thanks, Dad."

But now Sokka was calling to them, excited over a half-rusted sword he had found lying on the deck. Hakoda squeezed Zuko's shoulder again, and the two walked over to join him.