6. THERE'S A SMALL TOWN, A COUPLE HOURS' WALK FROM OUR CAMP. In the morning, after a quick hunt that rewards him with a couple of rabbits, Sokka and Katara take some of the money and head off for it. Our hope is that, in times like these, no one will care whose face is stamped on a good coin, so long as it's real. We need clothes, basic supplies, a pot, some bowls, news, stuff, and we need these things too much to not take a chance. Toph and I, being in possession of Earth Kingdom clothes, strip down to undergarments and give our clothes to the others. The fits aren't right, but with some adjustments, they look enough like forlorn refugees to pass muster. Toph is severely hungover from the night before, the result of her not listening when I warned that Fire Nation spice wine isn't to be trifled with. Before they leave, Katara stitches another waterskin from the remains of the deer Sokka killed the other day, fills it with water. I'm to try to get water down Aang's throat at least hourly, and attempt to slide in some pieces of food from time to time. Sokka points out that Aang is a vegetarian, and thus not likely appreciate such fare, but Katara responds, with a bit of annoyance, that the boy needs protein more than he needs principles right now.

It's then that I decide that it's going to be really hard not to develop a thing for the girl.

I sit in the silence, resting my head against the lip of the saddle, watching Aang and Toph sleep. I smoke, taking the time to savor each puff, each inhale, each exhale. It's good to have nicotine back in my system again. It helps me think.

It keeps me awake.

It keeps my eyes open.

We'd decided, after last night's splurge, to ration the cigarettes out, the biggest portion going to me, over my objections. It's only fair, I suppose, but I'm not really comfortable with it. It's been a long time since I was accorded any kind of real privilege. I find my mind drifting, back to my years on the ship, wandering the seas, angry and confused. My crew shared everything equally; it was really the only way to prevent a mutiny. There were no class distinctions at all. I didn't want to follow such ideas at first, wanted to maintain Fire Nation tradition, discipline, run a form of my country in miniature. I felt, in some way, that this would convince my father that I could be allowed back into the fold. It was my uncle who taught me the error of my ways, explained things calmly, clearly, taught me how to make the most of my exile.

My uncle taught me so much…

So much…

The rocks fall…

NO…

Sokka and Katara leave late in the morning, return late in the evening. They carry big cloth sacks laden with goods. They climb into the saddle, empty the sacks, lay the contents. It turns out that all of our worry about the coins was for naught; no one even looked twice. Thus, there's quite a haul. The siblings have bought clothes, food (mostly fruits and vegetables, plus some bread), shoes, a simple dagger, a pot, a couple bowls, a wooden spoon to stir the pot. Sokka produces a bottle of liquor from his sack, something local and cheap, while Katara pulls out a bag of tobacco and some rolling papers, giving me a wink as she lays it before me.

The single most important item, saved for last and presented by Sokka with a dramatic flourish, is also the simplest: A bar of soap. As Katara explains it, that was actually the hardest thing to get. No one even blinked at the coins, but all balked at parting with a bar of soap. They had to put on a sobbing refugee act to get it. Sokka gives a highly entertaining and well-received impression of the performance.

We bathe in the stream, taking no effort to cover up from each other. Personal privacy seems of minor importance, and we get so comfortable that even have a brief water fight in the middle of it all. We toss the bar of soap back and forth, and Sokka and I even get in a bit of a wrestling match over it. After we're all scrubbed clean (I, for one, feel a good pound lighter), Sokka and I hop up on Appa and carry Aang down to the water, stripping him down and scrubbing him from head to toe while Katara makes a nice little supper. That night, we have a regular feast, dressed only in our small clothes, munching on vegetables and fruit (which Sokka grumbles about; it seems he wanted to buy a pig, but Katara put her foot down and forced him to load up on extra greens) while Katara and Sokka take turns telling us what they managed to learn on their little shopping excursion.

The news, it appears, is grave, in that it doesn't really exist. Confusion reigns in the countryside, and for every five people, you can apparently get six opinions. Ba Sing Se has fallen; Ba Sing Se has not fallen; Ba Sing Se is falling, but is currently a war zone. The countryside is rolling over for massive Fire Nation armies; the countryside is in full-on revolt. Resistance is nonexistent; resistance is strong and united. The nation has united against the invasion; the nation is as fragmented as it ever was. The Fire Nation is marching on us as we speak; the Fire Nation is in head-long retreat.

The Avatar is dead.

The Avatar is alive.

The Avatar has simply abandoned the fight.

No one really knows what's going on. In that, we appear to be part of a general trend, and in very good company. Even the village headman, whom Katara managed to speak to, could only shrug and repeat the same rumors as everyone else.

That night, while the others are dozing off, Katara and I head off into the woods. We find a random spot, sit down, smoke, talk. This will become a tradition for us, a routine. By unspoken agreement, we avoid serious topics as much as possible, outside of general discussions of where to next and what's to do about food for tomorrow and who's turn is it to take ass-wiping duty for Aang, if that should ever occur, but for the most part, we just kind of…talk. We talk about our childhoods, about funny jokes and stories, about random anecdotes. We continue the process of filling each other in about the parts of our stories that the other missed. I tell her things I'd never tell anyone else, and I get the feeling that she does the same.

I even tell her how I got my scar…

I don't know why, but I always feel like we're the only two grown-ups in the group, no matter who ends up being present. Before, she was the mother, cooking, cleaning, caring. Suddenly, I'm there, and I'm helping her do all of those things. She thanks me every chance she gets. Every time, I get flustered and tell her it's nothing, the least I can do. I always praise her strength, her drive, her compassion. Somehow, this makes her flustered in return.

We get flustered together.

Throughout the next few weeks, I embark into an unknown realm. Toph and I tease each other like siblings. Sokka and I tell each other dirty jokes (an exchange that I always lose, because his repertoire is truly epic) and act like silly boys; I even start helping him improve his swordsmanship. He's a natural, so it's not terribly difficult going. And all the while, Katara and I go on walks, talk, cook, clean, brush Appa, laugh, giggle…

I have a lot of difficulty handling this, I won't lie. It's all pretty strange, stranger than anything that's ever happened to me. Sometimes, I get so freaked out about it, that I can't sleep at night, I lay awake for hours and panic. I always calm down, but the confusion is still there, and all because of one simple fact:

I've never had friends before.

So, this one pretty much speaks for itself, too. Not all that much to add, other than to point out, to anyone who feels it's going too slow, that we're very much about filling in some of the big gaping holes that were left in the original series. The biggest one, I felt, was the time-skip from Book 2 to Book 3, which we're going to fill in, while also laying the ground work for stuff that happens later.

Also, to this hypothetical person who's impatient, let me assure you that your patience will be rewarded. One of the big things I'm going to address in this project is the simple fact that the series does its best to pretend that this is history's most bloodless war. This will not be the case in my little fanfic here. When there are battles, people will die. There will be blood, and there will actually be high stakes.

Second to last note, if you're impatient for Aang, well, chill. Aang is one of those characters who has a tendency to suck the air out of a room; thus, I'm spending time establishing everyone else before that can happen. Plus, he really was in a coma in Canon at this point, though here, Aang's coma is going to last a bit longer.

Final note, someone in the reviews pointed out that, in Canon, Sokka is younger than Zuko, by almost a year. I looked it up, and I stand corrected. That said, it's too late now, so we're going to roll with it. That one's my bad, and I apologize.

Otherwise, read on!