Hey guys! It's me Dhamphir, back with Ch 4!!

Thanks to all who have reviewed this story so far! It's really helped my confidence!

I've gotten quite a few votes, and it seems that Sokka will be having the change of heart!

Disclaimer: Though I wish I did, I do not own Avatar: The Last Airbender. All recognizable characters and settings belong to someone else. The idea for this story, any original characters or settings all belong to me.

Warning: This chapter will contain Avatar Angst

Beta'd by my wonderful Grammar God, The Red Bird!

Hope you guys like!

Sokka felt deep into the corners of the burlap sack that, just a week prior, had been filled with food. Nothing. Not even a crumb was left of their supply. With a sigh, the warrior withdrew his hand and re-tied the bag to his belt. His right hand came up to brush gently against his forehead, just a bit above his right eyebrow, fingering the fine scar there. It was a habit he had when attempting to figure out a difficult problem.

"Katara," he called. No response from his sister. She was about five yards away, knee-deep in a slow moving stream that Sokka knew fed the rivers near Omashu, practicing her waterbending forms. She had been steadfastly ignoring him practically from the moment they had left. Again, Sokka sighed, fingers falling from his scar in defeat. There was no reasoning with her, he could see that; she held a grudge too strongly; but he didn't want to give up on his own sister, the only blood relation he had left. But at the same time:

The day after the siblings had started walking, Katara started on one of her now-familiar anti-Aang rants.

"He should be GRATEFUL we were willing to stay with him! What has he done for this world?! He was supposed to master the elements, but he could barely grasp water, which is by FAR the easiest. He was supposed to restore balance, but he hasn't. He was…he was supposed to save us. Has he?! NO!!" Katara threw her hands in the air and turned burning blue eyes to her brother. "Why are you being so quiet?!" She had demanded.

"Because," Sokka said in a tired voice, rubbing the scar on his forehead; evidence that he and Zuko had not always been friends; "because I think you're being too harsh, Katara." He flinched at her instant outcry.

"You're saying I'm wrong?! Sokka, you're my brother!! You're supposed to be on my side!"

"I am on your side Katara. Or at least, I was. But I can't agree with your attitude. We all failed on the day of the Black Sun. We all failed to find the Fire Lord. We all weren't strong enough to fight the entire Fire Nation Army. We failed together." Sokka said in as neutral a voice as he could manage.

"What are you getting at, Sokka?" Katara snapped.

"That it isn't fair to lay all of the blame on Aang's shoulders just because he's the Avatar! He's a kid, Katara! He's younger than you are! The life we've lived for the last year: the running, the hiding, the stealth training in the elements with whomever we had available to teach him: has been hard for all of us. Aang is only twelve, Katara, and living that life, on top of being the last of his nation." Sokka trailed off, seeing the stubborn look in Katara's eyes. It was clear he wasn't getting through to her.

"And what about our father, Sokka? The fact that he's been imprisoned yet again?" Katara's words were clipped, bitter.

"Dad is a warrior, Katara. He knew what might happen when he went into that battle, and he went even so. Clearly he doesn't fear imprisonment. And I see no reason to hold our father's capture against Aang. He didn't hand him to the Firebenders." Sokka answered. Silence reigned for a long time.

"And Suki? What about her, Sokka? What about what happened to her?" Katara's voice was a hair's breadth above a whisper. Her words had the intended effect; Sokka flinched.

"I don't know for sure that Suki went back to prison. But she's the same as Dad, or me, or Toph; she's a warrior. She knew what awaited her if we lost."

Katara let out a scream. "What has happened to you, Sokka?! Why are you suddenly sympathizing with the Avatar?!" She demanded.

"So he's the Avatar now? Not Aang any more?" His sister didn't answer, and Sokka didn't expect her to. "I sympathize with Aang because I know that if it were me in his place, he would hide his fear and his pain and do everything he could to comfort me. But I let my fear and my pain cloud my mind. I treated him in a way that is unforgivable, and because of it, I've lost more than a friend: I've lost a comrade and someone I considered to be a younger brother."

Katara glared at him, venom in her eyes. "Well apparently your 'younger brother' is more important than your own blood! You may be able to overlook what he's done, Sokka, but I can't. I will never forgive him." The last sentence was barely audible. Katara upped her stride, putting distance between herself and Sokka, who watched her go with sad eyes, but made no move to beg her forgiveness as he once would have.

-What happened to you, Katara? Once, you considered him a friend. I'm pretty sure you loved him too. How could one thing change all of that?- He asked her silently.

Sokka shook his head, snapping himself out of his memories of that day.

"Katara!!" He knew he had the right of it, and that Katara was wrong. But that didn't stop the pang of sadness he felt as she continued not to acknowledge him. Finally, he snapped, unknotting the empty supply bag from his waist and hurling it into the river. It drifted in front of Katara, who stopped bending and picked it up.

"We're out of food." Sokka snapped, fed up with her attitude.

She stood for a long moment, waist-deep in the water, holding the empty and sodden bag. "What does that mean?" She asked; her voice was soft, frightened, and for a moment, she was Sokka's sister again.

"It means we have no choice. We have to let ourselves be caught." Sokka answered, trying to sound like the brother she knew.

Her shoulders stiffened, he could see it from the bank. "It's that or we starve out here," He said, "because no game lives in the woods this far north."

She turned slowly to face him and, for a brief moment, he saw the old Katara in her scared expression. Then he blinked, and the new, hardhearted Katara was back. She waded to the bank, bending the water out of her clothing, and bent to retrieve her belongings. She set off without a word. With one last, lingering glance at her back, Sokka followed.

Sokka winced in pain as he was roughly slammed into the ground, feeling his lower lip split open as it was jammed into his teeth. Blood was filling his nose and mouth, staining the ground around his head crimson. He watched it slowly pool, his entire body aching.

They had made it to the borders of Omashu three days ago and taken up residence in one of the less-reputable inns. It hadn't taken long for the innkeeper to recognize and report them. When Fire Nation soldiers came bursting through the door to he and Katara's room, Sokka was tempted to give himself up without a fight. But that would have been more suspicious.

He had fought, but he was so hungry that he wasn't much of a threat. A skillful twist of one guard's wrist, and his sword was spinning across the room to be picked up by another guard. Katara was still fighting, battling two firebenders at once. Sokka, as mad at his sister as he was, couldn't help but appreciate her talent at bending.

His train of thought was cut short when he was hauled unceremoniously to his feet, hands now securely bound behind him. The guard who had tackled him stood behind him, gripping his forearms. The burly man reached one hand over Sokka's shoulder and created a flame in his palm, holding it very close to Sokka's face.

"Give up the fight, girl! Or your brother dies!" He yelled. Katara assessed the situation and, to Sokka's very real surprise, surrendered. She was subdued much less brutally than Sokka had been.

The guard holding him allowed the flame to flare up a bit brighter and Sokka flinched away from its heat. "Struggle, peasant, and you'll be eating this flame." He hissed in Sokka's ear, beginning to march him from the room.

Prince Zuko slowly made his way through the overcrowded dungeons of the palace. The newly reinstated royal did his best not to show recognition, though many of the faces now giving him contemptuous looks were familiar; they had fought together, these people and Zuko, not so very long ago.

The prince was relieved when he finished walking the last row of cells and began making his way back up to the palace proper. He couldn't stand going down into the dungeons now that they were overflowing with captured rebels: he couldn't stand the looks of hopelessness and betrayal on the faces of former friends. But he had no choice; one of the conditions of his return to the royal family had been unquestioned obedience in anything the Fire Lord asked of him.

His scar gave a painful throb, making him feeling for a moment like that horrific day was repeating itself. Zuko closed his eyes and clenched his jaws in a silent grimace of pain. These flares, though they had happened before, were happening more and more frequently now that he was back in the palace, forced to enter the war council room every single day: the very room where Zuko had spoken out of turn, out of compassion for his people being sent to die a senseless death.

That day had set off a chain of events in the young prince's life: being forced to face his own father in Agni Kai. Begging his father not to make him fight, that he was his loyal son, and a loyal son of the Fire Nation. His father, cast in shadow, sneering at him, telling him that he was weak. The pain of the blast connecting with his face. And, months later, standing scarred and shamed before the Fire Lord, receiving his sentence of exile with cool indifference. Zuko had turned and left the room without a backward glance and his shoulders squared, boarding the ship that would bear him away from home, perhaps forever, with all the dignity of a prince.

He had severed all ties with his emotions after that. Emotions had no place at sea, and they certainly had no use for Zuko. All they had done was get him into trouble. As the months and miles rolled by, the prince allowed himself to forget what it was to feel love…compassion…friendship. Anything but anger and bitterness, he believed he had forgotten.

It was his uncle: insane, lovable, powerful Uncle Iroh: who reminded him that he had not. One night aboard the ship, once more in pursuit of the Avatar and his friends, Iroh had said something that truly struck a chord in Zuko's heart:

"Your compassion and love for your people is not a weakness, Prince Zuko. Your father has placed our people on a road to destruction. If they survive, they will need a firm and fair leader to help them rebuild. They will need you, Nephew. You, and your compassion and ability to love."

The words had made Zuko take a step back from the unquestioning obedience to the Fire Nation he retained, though he was little more than a refugee and his own sister was trying to kill him. He had taken a step back, and seen that his uncle was right: his father was insane, and his lust for power which had already destroyed the Air Nomads would consume his own people as well. If he was not stopped, the Fire Nation would buckle under its own weight.

Shortly after he and his Uncle had joined the Avatar. And that was when, Zuko believed, he found his first real friend.

They were distrustful at first, and they had every right to be: he had chased them relentlessly for more than a year, and injured them several times. Therefore, he did not blame the siblings, or the blind earthbender, for their coldness to him at first.

The Avatar: -Aang, his name is Aang- Zuko corrected himself: had been a different matter. From the beginning, the cheerful airbender had accepted Zuko and Iroh wholeheartedly, willing to set the past aside with little protest. It was his unconditioned acceptance that eventually brought the others around.

"Why are you so willing to trust us, after all that we've done to you?" Zuko had asked him one night.

Aang had given him a rather rueful smile, sadness in his grey eyes, before answering: "Because you wouldn't have come to us if you didn't honestly want us to forgive you." He had said, and left it at that.

At first Zuko had clung to Aang like a lifeline, relying on him to help him through social situations. But eventually, it was Sokka he began to turn to.

It had begun one night when the two of them had been on their way to a nearby river to wash their clothes. They had to pass very close to a Fire Nation camp to get to it. Zuko had been terrified of being discovered the entire time. The next day, Sokka had taken him aside and began showing him the stealth techniques that were a hunter's means of success: how to time his breathing so that it matched his footsteps, how to scan the terrain in front of him for obstacles without really looking down, and most of all, how to transfer his weight silently from foot to foot.

"Do that, and you'll never get caught." Sokka had said with his lazy, crooked smile. Zuko had smiled back.

Just like that, their friendship was born. He and Sokka spent hours trading stories of their very different pasts: Zuko's as a Fire Nation noble, raised to believe his was the greatest of all the elements, and Sokka's as a warrior of the Southern Water Tribe, raised to know that no element could survive alone: and sparring when they had time. Sokka taught Zuko the basics of hunting and tracking, and Zuko and Iroh together taught the Water Tribe teen to play that most infamous of board games, Pai Sho. Sokka, as it turned out, was a brilliant strategist, outthinking Zuko in a matter of hours and very nearly besting Iroh:

"Told you to watch out for his Lotus Tile." Zuko said from the tree he had been leaning against, watching the two play.

"Yeah, yeah." Sokka had answered, sticking out his tongue. Zuko rolled his eyes.

He owed the Water Tribe teen so much. Without Sokka, he doubted he would have survived Boiling Rock, or even had the courage to go there in the first place. In Sokka he had found more than just a friend: he had found a comrade, a confidante, and a confessor. He told Sokka things he didn't dare tell the others, even the Avatar: how it had felt to be banished from his home, from his family, and sent on a seemingly impossible task. How he had known that Azula was his father's favorite before he could even speak. Sokka listened to his worries with a sympathetic ear, weaving advice in with humor. Always, Zuko walked away feeling both comforted and amused.

Boiling Rock had only strengthened their bond: the bond between warriors, who never knew when their last moment would be. Because they didn't know, the two had made a solemn vow following the escape from the prison to come to the other's aid, should he need it.

"I swear to you…"

Zuko snapped himself out of his musings and realized he had been standing in the middle of the lower hallway in a daze. With a quick shake of his head, the prince made his way towards the west wing and the sparring grounds.

"…that should you need me…"

He had nearly reached his destination when a page rounded the corner, stopping right in front of Zuko, effectively blocking his path. The boy was breathing heavily, sweat glistening on his brow. What once would have made flame come from the prince's nostrils now had him simply raising his un-burnt eyebrow.

"What is it?" He asked.

"…I will fight…"

"We've just captured two prisoners, Your Highness." The page reported. He scuffed the ground with his toe. "The siblings from the Water Tribe."

Zuko's blood turned to ice. "What?" He asked, hoping he had heard wrong.

"They're being held in the eastern parlor, Your Highness, awaiting interrogation by the General…"

"…thank you for telling me. Please tell the General he needn't bother. I will interrogate them myself." Zuko didn't wait for an answer, setting off full-tilt for the opposite side of the castle.

He skidded to a stop before the eastern parlor, being guarded by two fully armed firebenders. Zuko squared his shoulders, marching up to them regally.

"I'm to interrogate the new arrivals myself." He said with as much authority as he could muster. If they questioned him, they didn't say so. Their spears uncrossed, and Zuko nodded his thanks as he entered the small, dusty room.

"…by your side."

His eyes widened of their own accord, heart sinking into his boots. There before him was a familiar figure, bruised and battered.

"Sokka," he breathed, "what happened?" The Water Tribe warrior looked up and Zuko gasped. His face was a bloody mess, but it was his eyes that held the prince stunned. They held a profound regret that was not there when last they met.

Sokka managed a weak imitation of his usual smile. "Hey, Scarhead," he whispered.

The sun was rising in a blaze of oranges and reds. Aang watched the glowing ball of fire as it rose above the horizon with mixed emotions: the monks had taught him that the sun was to be respected, as it was the sun's heat and light that gave life to the planet. But seeing it; and the colors it painted the sky; reminded the Avatar all the more of his failure.

He could not see the sun now without thinking of the Fire Nation, and the benders who drew their power from the sun. He could not watch the sunrise without remembering that one chance: the day when the sun did not shine, when the firebenders were at their weakest: to restore balance to the elements and the world.

Tears stung the young man's eyes as he thought of his beloved mentor; Gyatso. One salty droplet made its way down Aang's cheek as his thoughts followed a path that was becoming more and more familiar to him.

My people never hurt anyone. Especially not Gyatso. Why? Why did the Fire Nation choose them? More tears fell as he remembered his friends…his tutors….

For the thousandth time, he felt the guilt: it was infinitely worse than the knowledge of his more recent failure. Because he knew all of the victims' names. He knew their faces. He could see it so clearly…

The monks moving as quickly as their aged limbs could carry them, trying to free the gentle herds of flying bison and lemurs. Waving their arms, yelling, doing all they could to get the large, loyal creatures to flee. Then they would turn themselves and run back into the temple, herding all of the students into the inner sanctuaries and placing themselves between the young and the ever approaching enemy.

And then they would wait. They would pray to the four gods: Kue'i-Hsing, of the west, for wisdom: Kuan Ti, of the east, for courage: Lei-Kung, of the North, for strength: and Fu-Hsing, of the South, to bless them with her strength.

At long last they would hear the footsteps of the soldiers, marching in lock-step. The acrid smell of their home burning would permeate the air. But the devout monks would not waiver. They would remain steady, palms and feet pressed together, chanting the prayer to Fu-Hsing.

Gyatso would speak just before the doors of the temple burst open. "They come looking for Aang. They must not know that he is no longer with us. We must protect the Avatar. That is our sacred duty."

They would fight: every last one of them: nine elderly men against an army. They would fight to the very end, defending the children in their care and the one trusted to their protection.

Then the children: friends, boys Aang had grown up with. Boys who considered him a friend. They would do what they could, but they, too, would fall before the Fire Nation's army.

In the end, silence would fall. Many Fire Nation soldiers would lie among the ranks of the dead, side by side with the peaceful nomads so brutally slaughtered. Their comrades would gather them and take them away: they would be lauded as heroes, and given the burial they deserve.

There would be no such burial for the men of the Southern Air Temple. By the time word reached the other temples it would be too late. The army would be on their doorstep. Like their brethren, the men and women of those temples would fight.

Meanwhile he, Aang, the Avatar…the reason for the bloodshed…the one who was supposed to save his people…he would already be languishing in the ice by then. Unaware that as he hung suspended in time, his people were dying.

Harsh sobs came from the Avatar now, and the tears flowed freely down his cheeks. Images of all four temples were playing behind his tightly closed eyelids: playing in the mountains, watched over by the careful eye of the monks. Choosing Appa, who was still just a baby then, by giving him an apple. Successfully gliding for the first time. He and Appa's first flight together. The kind voices of Gyatso and Sister Iio. Last of all he remembered Guru Pathik, the man who transcended time and helped him to master the Avatar State.

I failed as the Avatar from the start. I failed my own people and cost them their lives. Now I've condemned the world to the same fate.

Toph repressed a flinch: the closer she got to their resting place, the harder it got to bear.

The Avatar was the incarnation of the planet's energy. As such, he or she had a stronger link not only to the four elements, but to the planet's core. And vice versa. Aang was grieving: that much was clear. His grief was profound enough to affect the planet itself. With every step she took, Toph could feel that grief coming through the earth and traveling through her, feeling like a blade to her heart.

It had been nearly a week since they left Sokka and Katara in the woods of the northern Earth Kingdom. In that time they had been traveling sporadically, zigzagging and often doubling back to make sure no one pursued them. They had taken to sleeping during the day and traveling at night: two children as young as they were, traveling without adult supervision always drew attention. Not to mention their mode of transportation: not many flying bison could be seen these days.

There were few towns now willing or able to welcome the Avatar. So Aang and Toph had resorted to taking what they needed at night. Aang, ever honest, hated being forced to steal. Even if the only other option was starvation or possibly imprisonment. Toph, wanting to spare him further pain, had offered to go alone. She hadn't been able to get much, but it would be enough to last them a few weeks as long as they were careful. In one hand, she held a bundle of apples for Appa.

It was selfish, but she had felt a wicked stab of joy when Aang had done nothing more than clasped her arm and told her to be careful, and that he would see her when she came back. Had Katara been there, she would have insisted that Sokka escort Toph, "just in case." And she would bully her brother until he went along. He would walk too close for either of their comfort levels, vaguely embarrassed by his sister's attitude. But that embarrassment wouldn't stop him from holding Toph's arm, despite her protests, in crowded areas.

Part of the reason she preferred Aang's company to that of the Water Tribe siblings: Aang never referenced her blindness as a weakness: he saw it as strength. That was probably the influence of the Air Nomads, who had taught that all things could be seen in two ways, positively and negatively. Aang never coddled Toph, never offered to help her where he knew she didn't need it. And most importantly, there was no vaguely pitying note in his voice when he spoke to her. Just the same friendly acceptance he showed to everyone else.

Though Katara probably meant well, and Sokka too, their smothering behavior angered the Bei Fong warrior; it reminded her of her parents' attitudes, the ones that had led her to the underground bending tournaments and, later, to Aang and his friends.

-I guess this situation could be considered déjà vu- Toph thought, remembering the thrill she had felt sneaking out of the palace and taking flight on Appa. How exhilarated she had been to be able to live her own life. When she had fled with Aang from the campsite, that thrill had been there again, but it had been overshadowed by her overwhelming sympathy: sympathy for her friend that he felt it necessary to leave them behind, and how much it had taken to make that decision on top of everything he had been through. It seemed that all of those repressed emotions had finally come to a head.

Lost in thought, she had nearly reached the shadowed outcropping of rock where they would sleep for the day. Aang was just a few yards away. Toph's heart went out to her friend as the sounds of his sobs reached her ears. And she could tell when he heard her approach, because he silenced himself and rose to meet her.

"Were you able to get anything?" He asked, walking forward to take the apples that would be Appa's dinner. His footsteps were heavy: they felt like the steps of a man much older than he was, a man who had seen and lived through too much. Toph felt the weight of his steps as surely as the earth did and marveled at it: he was the same age as she herself was, and had been carrying the weight of the world for so long already.

She allowed him to take the apples from her, but stopped him from moving away with a hand on his wrist. "What is it that is making you so sad, Aang? You still have a chance to save the world." There was no hint of her usual teasing or sarcasm, only concern.

His trembling was strong enough that she felt it in her own legs, carried by the earth. "But not my people," he whispered, "how am I supposed to go back there, Toph? It was hard enough the first time, and then seeing what had become of the Northern Air Temple, and the Western one…I don't know if I can do it again."

"Oh, Aang," gently, Toph hugged her taller friend, feeling him clench her shirt as if he would drift away without her to anchor him. She could tell he was trying to be strong, to find something reassuring to say.

"Even the Avatar is allowed to be weak sometimes, Twinkle Toes. And if you happened to cry…I'd forget about it by tonight." She said quietly, a hint of her old humor in her voice.

There was a rough, barking sound, somewhere between a laugh and a sob. It quickly dissolved into sobs. Toph held him, allowing him to grieve for the airbenders as he had not yet had a chance to do.

This time there was no Avatar State, no panicked Sokka and Katara. There was just a boy who had experienced more than his fair share of tragedy.

Sorry for the sadness!! I just realized that Aang really never did get to grieve for his people. He deserved a chance.

Also, I hope Toph wasn't too OOC. The way I imagine her, I can see her having a whole other range of emotions that most people don't see because she's putting up a front. I tried to write her that way.

As always, guys, please review! It'll give me the confidence to update faster!

Until next time!