A child's wish presented
On the sky, suspended yet higher;
The child does not seem to know
That the stars are flesh of fire.
- Me

Sorry about the implied Zutara in this chapter; I promise I will attempt to stay true to the ending but I couldn't resist. I mean, he throws himself in front of a lightning bolt for her, I almost had to say something. Anyway, welcome to what I call part two.


Stubborn clouds obscure Zuko's vision in the small, scarlet war balloon, and he eventually loses sight of the sky bison, even when the beast lands. This doesn't worry him, however. He knows where the Avatar and his friends are going, for he has been there himself, three years ago when his banishment was still as fresh as the scar on his face and he didn't much care at all for his uncle's love.

Uncle Iroh. Zuko wonders painfully how he is ever going to find the man, and, even if he does, how this same man will ever forgive him for what he has done.

The Western Air Temple beckons to him like a long-lost but vivid dream, misty and barely passing for the cellophane clear it once could; he used to see the ruins of the deceased people as a symbol of the power of the nation that would one day be his once more. Now it is only a reminder of the sick and twisted future the Fire Nation hopes to delve into in order to conquer every one of the four corners of the world, as well as the four elements that inhabit them. The temple, empty but still having the feeling of a strong, lingering presence, clings to the side of a jagged cliff face. The bottom of the canyon is almost unidentifiable; there is too much mist hanging in the air, making strange swirling shapes that ask Zuko what he wants by twisting into familiar objects.

Hoping to go unnoticed by the troop of miserable pedestrians that is the Avatar and his friends, Zuko bends the flickering fire in the air balloon down a bit so he can go lower. Maybe if I found them and offered them a ride… Zuko thinks, then shakes it off as a stupid idea. No. Definitely not. Maybe it's best if I just… approach them. Cautiously.

With each moment that passes Zuko questions his judgment more and more. What has he done? How could he have, with a crown and a wonderful girl and a maybe an acrobatic friend waiting for him back home, now gone forever, just like that? And what if the Avatar doesn't accept him, but doesn't kill him, either? For some reason, this is what Zuko dreads most, because he has absolutely nowhere else to go.

Carefully, the anxious teenager maneuvers the balloon down to the top of the cliff, knowing, that, to Team Avatar, he is just a dot in the distance- a rock, an animal, as they are to him.

The air, despite it being late summer, is chilly and unwelcoming as Zuko withdraws a rope and hook from the balloon's basket. The dots on the other side of the cliff are growing, and he knows he must get moving.

Clinging to the side of the cliff, Zuko propels downward into the unknown.


The rock is sharp beneath his bleeding and beaten hands, the dirt encrusted under the nails clutching desperate the evasive handholds. Zuko's sandals are worn so he can feel the height and point of each stone on his feet. He is only halfway down the cliff to the temple but is entirely ready to give up.

Suddenly, the mist in front of him dissolves momentarily and a colorful blur races past on gliding orange wings. Zuko presses himself further against the rock, praying the boy on the glider, his old quarry and now his only hope, does not notice him. Not yet. If things go wrong when he is suspended off a rock face by a fraying old rope, the consequences could be horrifying, even more so than the life he's left behind at the top of the cliff.

And in a flash, the Avatar is gone. Disappearing out of his grasp, just like he always seems to do for as long as Zuko can remember.

Zuko releases the laborious breath he hasn't realized he's been holding and continues clawing his way down, a dangerous and arduous trek, to the temple's overhangs. For the first time in his life the exhausted teen wishes he could bend something other than fire, could create rather than destroy. But then he sees his uncle's face in his mind and knows immediately what the old man would say if he ever voiced this shameful thought aloud. Zuko, he would say, fire is a source of light and life and warmth, and is only dangerous and wild when we let ourselves be. And with this thought in mind, one he concluded entirely by himself but still not be himself, Zuko finally has faith in his own fire. And maybe, just maybe, if he plays his cards right, the Avatar will as well.

Letting out a moan of exhaustion, the boy drops the last few feet between him and the overhang and lands heavily and painfully on his scraped hands and knees. He panics for a second; the Avatar is not far away, has he been too loud?

There is no sound of alarm or acknowledgment following his noisy landing, and he takes that as a good sign. Peering into the temple for any vigilant eyes, he clamors down to the concrete floor, breathing too heavily. The thought to cut the rope passes his mind fleetingly, but he brushes it off, considering an alternative if flight is necessary. Voices come from a few rooms away; this is it. The moment has come for him. It will either make him or break him, ignite a righteous fire in him or throw him on a pan over the flames to fry. He forces hopeful thoughts worthy of even Katara's standards to flood through him, soothe his screaming nerves and instinct that yells for escape, as he paces through hallways cast in shadow. Children's voices come from behind him, and he, ducking behind a door, sees the blur of a boy in a wheelchair, one in an oversize helmet, and another older one with a mustache race through a different room and out of sight. He knows those aren't the ones to follow; he can hear a stronger, more serious voice, clear as day, from the room adjacent. It shocks him how easily he recognizes Katara's voice, one he's heard only on occasion and on one day he yearns to free himself of.

And this sound, this bell that is the fierce and beautiful waterbender's voice, is enough to make him want to flee all over again, because if things do not go his way, he knows she will be the last one to consider mercy. But he resists the urge, and slips into the room, using the bison's bulk for cover. The arguing group doesn't seem to notice him pressing himself against the animal's fur, rising and falling with its breathing. It doesn't mind him, since he rescued it in Ba Sing Se, just bleats in pleasant surprise.

"Aang," Katara is saying, "just hear me out for a minute before changing the subject."

"Fine," the Avatar replies, sounding reluctant and somewhat distracted, not himself.

Katara's brother, the one with the boomerang, picks up the conversation. For the life of him, Zuko cannot remember his name. "Aang, we need to think about how you're going to learn firebending. Who on earth is going to teach you?"

Zuko's eyes widen- it's too good to be true! The Avatar needs a fire bending teacher, and here he is, offering his services. How can they say no?

He risks a peek around the bison's hide, and immediately his gaze lands on Katara's eyes, looking at the Avatar with such a practical intensity both Zuko and Aang almost cringe.

"I don't know," the Avatar, Aang, replies quietly.

Katara's gaze softens considerably. "We could look for Jong-Jong again," she offers, gentler.

"Right," Aang scoffs, "like we're ever going to run into Jong-Jong again." "Actually," the blind earthbender- Tough? No, Toph- contributes, "I think there's someone here that might be able to help us out…"

These words send fear and panic coursing hot then freezing through Zuko's veins. How long has she known of his presence? Of course, the bison chooses that particular moment to grunt and shift, revealing Zuko's face, one the group recognizes immediately, a face full of scars and shame.

"Hi" is all he can think to say, then grimaces. "Zuko here," like that was any better.

"Zuko!" Katara shouts, and instantly they are all on their feet, ready to attack.

"What are you doing here?" Aang demands.

The answers stick in his throat; I was just here to apologize for trying to kill you before, and was wondering if you would let me teach you how to shoot fire out of your body and kill my father for me.

"He's here to capture us, obviously. There's probably a whole army out there," the boy- Sokka!- snarls.

"Maybe he just has a death wish," Toph offers, almost good-naturedly, and Katara shoots her a withering look before remembering she can't see it.

"Actually, I came here to…uh, well, listen. I know I used to be a bad person. I used to be bad, but now I'm good, I guess? Uh, I can firebend- but I guess you know that… you know, from when I was…attacking you? Yeah, I guess I should apologize for that." He smacks his forehead, knowing he is failing miserably. "Anyway. I can teach firebending. To, uh, to you." He sighs. "What I'm trying to say is… I think it's time I joined your group."

The group's eyes widen; they gape at him, and Zuko feels small and vulnerable. Sokka's face is one of disbelief, Toph's is one of wary interest, and Aang's is a mix of the two. Katara's, however, is one of absolute revulsion, hatred etched on her pretty features.

"You," she growls, skulking toward him with a slender finger outstretched. "You think you can just march in here and convince us you're different? After all you've done to us? After you attacked our village, tried to capture Aang? After you kidnapped me, and almost killed us all numerous times? After you used my mother's necklace to hunt us down and chase us around the world?" Her big blue eyes fill with hot, angry tears. "After…after Ba Sing Se?"

Zuko is filled with excruciating pain at the last memory. "Look, I know I've done some awful things, and I'm sorry. I'm sorry I tried to hurt you. I'm sorry I followed you around the world. I'm sorry about the North Pole, about Ba Sing Se, and I'm sorry I sent that assassin after you!"

"Wait!" Sokka screeches. "You sent Combustion Man after us?"

Zuko flinches. "Well, that's not his name, but…"

"GET OUT!" yells Katara, and Sokka nods vigorously.

With desperation, Zuko looks to Aang. "Please," he implores. "All I want is your acceptance."

"I'm sorry, Zuko," Aang replies coldly. "But there's no way we can trust you after all you've done."

Zuko gulps down his pain, the burning sensation in his throat and behind his eyes. "Fine," he manages. "If you won't accept me as a friend, maybe you'll accept me as a prisoner." He kneels submissively, offering his hands up to be bound.

"No!" Katara yells. "We won't!"

And before Zuko realizes what's happening, he is painfully knocked sideways by a strong jet of freezing water. Shivering and scraped, he glances up at the waterbender through dark dripping bangs.

She stands over him, beautiful and powerful and untamable and harsh, just like the sea, and it is a stormy ocean Zuko, a firebender drowning in it all, finds in her wide eyes. All of a sudden, wildly and impossibly, he feels his heart return to him again. It's timid and faint and scarred but still there, beating weakly but quickly beneath his bruised ribcage. It is back because of this strong and beautiful waterbender, but also because miles away in a warmongering land too blind to see the fire it's lit to itself, a girl he can no longer call his has released the broken pieces of it in disgust. The tears she will never let anyone see spill onto the parchment he sent for her, and this is almost enough to break Zuko's newly returned heart a second time, if this waterbender doesn't do it first.

"Get. Out." she hisses, and Zuko obeys, head bowed and despairing, wondering why the girl his struggling heart has decided to cling in order to recuperate has to be the one that wants to kill him.


He makes camp in the woods, lit afire with the sunset, near the cliffs, and tries to come up with what he can do, where he can possibly go, who would dare take him. He wastes away in agonized thought, sinking deeper and deeper into the depths of self-pity, as sepulchral night falls, lit only by the campfire he detests with all of his being.

It is late when he hears the crack of a branch.

"Hello?" he calls out loudly. No answer. "Who's there?" Still nothing. An alarm goes off in Zuko's head, and, just to be safe, he sends a low wall of fire in the direction of the noise.

"Ouch!" wails a familiar voice, and Zuko's mood, if possible, plummets. "You burned my feet!"

Toph, oh, Spirits, Toph. He races in the direction of her voice, calling a name foreign to his lips.

"Get away from me!" she snaps, clawing at the dirt in effort to get away.

"Please, let me help you! It was an accident, believe me! Please, come back! I have a salve that might help your burns!"

But she's gone, and so is his last chance.

In his anger, he snuffs the fire out in a wisp of smoke, and falls asleep to the deafening and unmistakable sound of his failure and the feel of his stinging tears behind his eyelids. For the guilty can always somehow find sleep, their escape from their consciences laying prey to them.


Dawn breaks, somehow, and he is grudgingly awoken by the sound of trouble. Isn't that always the case? This time, however, it is from the direction of the Western Air Temple-the sound of sonic booms, raw, explosive firepower, and guiltless assassination.

No matter how fast he runs, he can't seem to get there fast enough. The man Sokka calls Combustion Man blows up the relics of the Avatar's past, as well as ruining the boy's chance at a future. The truth crumbles down on Zuko as the stone does the same around the frantically fighting group, joined by the three boys Zuko had caught a glimpse of the previous day.

No, he thinks wildly, scanning his brain for any sort of plan. No!

Before he knows it, before he can even think up a prayer-less plan, he finds himself attempting to shove the unmovable and deadly assassin, screaming orders as if he is still a prince.

"Stop! I won't pay you if you don't stop attacking!" The assassin knocks him sideways, and Zuko grabs at his stomach as if his guts will spill out. "All right! I'll pay you double to stop!"

But Combustion Man is no longer taking orders from Zuko. For what is he to him but a boy chasing the ghosts of his fast and fleeing those of his failures?

"Please!" Zuko screams, his voice raw, as the man causes another column of fire to erupt through the air and take out a wall. "Please, stop!" The ex-prince stumbles forward desperately, punches the unyielding assassin in the side, the man swatting at him like he is a troublesome fly. With a yell, Zuko shoots a pathetic accuse for a flame from his fingertips, but it is enough to distract Combustion Man for a spit second, a second long enough for him to pause in his next assault, a second long enough for Sokka's boomerang to catapult through the air and hit the man square on the tattoo of the eye on his forehead. The assault is cut short, and the air around Zuko explodes in fire, as does the ground beneath his feet.

Suddenly free-falling through the air, Zuko frantically grabs at smoke for something, anything, to hold on to. He finds it, by some miracle, and collapses on what used to be the cliff, pain flowing steadily through him, knowing Combustion Man was not as lucky. He hears the shouts of the others below as he slips into unconsciousness, and the last thing he sees before he blacks out, that thing he happens to grasp onto, are Katara's shocked blue eyes.


"Is he okay? Did you heal him?" asks a voice as Zuko drifts back into his body, and, because of the pain, wishes he didn't.

"If you could call what he was before okay, then he is," responds a colder feminine voice, and Zuko opens his eyes to discover an indifferent Katara staring down at him, as well as the rest of the Avatar's group.

"Well," Sokka says uncertainly after Zuko stumbles through a painful speech and apology, as if hoping someone will shut him up before the slippery words spill out. No one does. "Welcome to the group, Zuko."


Zuko figures it must be the most awkward moment in history when Sokka shows him to his temporary room in the temple, and even more so when he catches the words the boy murmurs confidingly to Aang on the way out.

Which is why he wasn't expecting a furious Katara to be inches away from his face when he turns around.

"Spirits!" he hisses at her in shock, but she'll have none of it.

"Now you listen to me right now, Zuko. You may have everyone else fooled, but you and I both know just how hard your loyalties are to come by. So I will tell you this one time, and one time only. If you take even one step backward, give me just one reason to think you might hurt Aang, you won't have to worry about your destiny anymore. Because I will end it. Permanently."

For a moment, Zuko is unsure whether the furious pickup in speed of his heart is of sheer terror or just a reaction to the close proximity of their faces. Wildly, absurdly, Zuko realizes how perfect the shape of her lips are, spewing poison at him, and for a second he considers kissing her. However, that would be hurting Aang, and her killing him would not be a good way to end such a productive and surprising day. When she leaves, deadly and silent, it takes all he is to hold himself together as she disappears down the hall.

And when he falls asleep, it is the first time in a long time that he does not dream. The first night of a new era when he does not wake up in a cold sweat, the only thing preventing the dreams from burning him to ashes being the slightly wavering stability of his mind. But Zuko knew that was over now; he had chosen his path- you just had to look one room over, to where the Avatar sleeps soundly, to know that yourself.